TABLE TALK.

Evening Star, Issue 7183, 11 April 1887, Page 4

TABLE TALK.

THU OOSMP e OF o AND

[EW, Or. Si’.riAL London, February 24. A strange story in connection with the foundering of the illfated Kapunda comes Midlands. Louisa Benn. a nicelooking girl of eighteen, residing with her mother in Queen street, Wednesbury, had much against the wishes of relatives and friends, resolved to emigrate to Western Australia, and went down to Plymouth to join the Kapunda, which picked up most of her passengers there. The night after the girl left Wednesbury Mrs Benn had a vivid and horrible dream, in which she saw a large ship sinking, and heard the screams of those on board. The vision seemed so realistic that it frightened the old lady seriously, and all next day she was a prey to distressing fears and forebodings. Evening caine,_ and with it a repetition of the nightmare, only on this occasion Mrs Benn distinctly heard her daughter cry “Oh, mother, save me ! ” The Kapunda was to sail the following afternoon, and Louisa Benn had already settled down on board, when she received an imploring message from her mother, begging her, in terms which could scarce y be disregarded, to return. The girl had to abandon her baggage, and was unmercifully chaffed by the doctor, who laughingly declared that all mothers had bad dreams when their children first went on the sea, and that it would be expensive work if people felt obliged to respect such omens. Louisa wavered, and had almost decided to stop, when another officer, who had been listening to the conversation, reminded her of the pain and anxiety the old mother would suffer if she persisted in going, and earnestly advised her to return. Very reluctantly the girl left the ship. She went back to Wednesbury feeling both foolish and angry, and, it is to be feared, led Mrs Benn “a life of it” till the astounding news of the Kapunda’s loss filled her at once with horror and devout thankfulness. In one of the recent memoirs of Lord Shaftesbury a story appears which aptly illustrates the crass fatuity and conceit of Government officials. Some years ago, when the Fenian scare was at its height, a costermonger whom the philanthropic peer had helped called upon him and related certain particulars of a conversation he had overheard in a public-house between three Irishmen. ’ It bore reference to a coming explosion at one of the metropolitan prisons; the coster could not say which. Still, bo rightly thought something might be done to prevent loss of life if the police were Alarmed. The fellow demurred, however, to his own name being revealed to anyone else. If it came out, he said, his life would be forfeited. Lord Shaftesbury pledged himself to secrecy on the point, and then event straight to Whitehall and told the Home Secretary the story. Will it be believed that the permanent officials advised -that no investigations should be entered on .miens Lord Shaftesbury’s informant would disclose his identity. They pronounced the whole business a hoax, and advised the Home Secretary to look on it in that light. He decided to do so. Lord Shaftesbury retired in a hopeless mood, and throe days later the famous Clerkenwell explosion took place. Jovial John Corlett, of the ‘Sporting Times,’ has, you may have seen, had to Apologise to a fair chorus girl at the Avenue Theatre for describing her in that journal as .a “tart.” Numerous more or less appropriate epigrams have in consequence resulted —as for instance : Poor old Corlett, his wit to whet, Forgot what he was alter : M when he called that girl a “ tart,” Ho should hare said a Tartar ! Are we going to have a servant-girl ‘“craze”? It looks horribly like it. Only the other day Sir Crichton Browne told the National Health Society that they “ could see more true loveliness in a morning’s walk engaged in cleaning down doorsteps than in fashionable drawing-rooms,” and now the ( erstwhile resthefcic Oscar Wilde pronounces “ the factory girl with her shawl over her head ” as infinitely more “ subtle and precious” than the high-heeled, tight-wasted damosels.” Perhaps so; still I fancy our Susans and our Janes will have to change a good bit before the masher of the period sees anything either subtle or precious in them. A certain odious class of man can’t walk upstairs behind a smart servant girl without trying to kiss or to tickle her. Thank heaven, however, very few of us e,r.e built that way. The temptation has always seemed to me a most difficult one to understand, for about even the prettiest of housemaids there hangs a suspicion of_ slops and washing-up the reverse of aromatic. * The Bitter Cry of Bankrupt Belgravia’ is the title of a brochure describing the sorrows of a professional beauty, who was fiighly favored by an esealted personage till ■one frolicsome evening she poured an ice cream down his neck. As a revelation of •“ how the rich live ” the volume fa most instructive. The “ Rupert of Divorce,” as the Duke of Marlborough is styled, in contradistinction to his brother Lord Randolph, the “ Rupert of Debate,” has started on his tour of the world. He way be away two years. St. Valentine’s Day is practically a thing of the past, save as regards the sending of floral valentines. These were this made of all shapes—shoulder-knots of lilies-, orchids, and lilies and camellias predominating. An immense number are made on the Riviera and sent over by parcel post. Orchids are the chic thing to wear nowadays as buttonholes. Having sharpened his wit with impunity opon Lords Ailesbury, Cairns, and Grey de Wilton, Mr James Davis, of ‘ The Bat,’ seems to have thought he could safely <‘ take ou” that astute turfite Robert Peck. There, however, he fell into a trifling error. Mr Peck has obtained the fiat from the public prosecutor, and proceeds criminally against Davis for libel. I fear, too, things will go hard with the frolicsome journalist. One may call a man (especially a turfite) many names in these free and easy days, but it is surely going dangerously far to describe biia as “ a rogue ” and “ hot as the hinges Hell.”

A subscriber to Mudie’s lately wanted to borrow Eider Haggard’s last work. All available copies wore out at the moment, but a few days later he received the following Eost-card: —“‘She’ has come in, and will be ept for you till to-morrow evening, but no longer.” Unfortunately the poor fellow’s wife saw the card first, and, forming her «wn conclusions, kept it from him. He had on awful time of it till the lady (in a rage) produced what she called the “ proof of his perfidy !” And the worst of it was he never got ‘ She ’ after all. The run of luck against the bank at Monte Carlo continues unexampled. A young Englishman who started play with a five-franc piece converted it into nearly LI,OOO at roulette one afternoon last week. Many large winners are reported, especially Amongst the Russians. The publication of young Lady Brooke’s portrait, apparently without rhyme or reason, in ‘ Pump Court’ for February, has excited considerable amusement. It was expected, I suppose, that certain legal proceedings in which she may be concerned would have come to a head ere the Tern, plana’ monthly appeared. Lady Brooke was Miss Maynard the heiress before she married Lord Brooke. She is an exceedingly pretty And highly accomplished woman. The late Mrs Henry Wood is the only contemporary novelist o£ the first rank whose stories have never been published in « cheap form. Moat of them still sell well «t 6a. I told you last week that over 140,000 copies of the well-known green edition of ‘ East Lynne ’ had been disposed of by Bentley. I should have said over 150,000. The pirated American sale must be at least as large. Next to ‘ East Lynne,’ * The Channings’ is Mrs Wood’s most popular work. It appeals equally to growing and grown-up readers, and has for years been in consistent demand. The scene is laid in the cathedral city of Worcester, where the author lived till she married. Mrs Wood was unquestionably lucky in her generation. There are plenty of authors nowadays who write quite as good novels as 4 Dene Hollow,’ ‘Oswald Cray,’ etc., etc., without by any manner of means setting the Thames on fire. Perhaps Mrs Wood’s most genuine success of late years was the first series of stories published under the nom de plume of “Johnny Ludlow. ” They fell off after a year or so. but the idea and the execution were alike excellent to begin with. East Lynne,” the play, was even a greater success than ‘East Lynne’ the novel. There are upwards of ft dozen adaptations in existence, and it has been performed in every civilised language—even Hindostanee. None of the adaptors—not even the famous actress who travelled with the play for six years—paid Mrs Wood a cent. ’Tis reckoned that bad she received LI for each representation a fortune of over L 60,000 would have been realised. To this day, in the United States or the colonies, “JBast Dynpe ” continues a,

safe “ draw,” and will often attract a good audience where all else fails. Mrs Henry Wood leaves two complete novels ; one of them, * Lady Grace,’ now running in the ‘ Argosy.’ Her son, Charles W, Wood, will succeed to the management of the magazine. Fanny Leslie, a clever, sprightly girl belonging to the same school as Minnie Palmer, has just opened the Strand Theatre with “ Jack •in - the - Box,” which was specially written for her by George it. Sims, and obtained great popularity in the provinces. The piece is three parts melodrama and one part music-hall. The “ sensation ” scene shows us a country fair and affords opportunity for the hornpipe and stepdancing the gallery loves. The fair Fanny, as a pert little London fjam'n, who is everybody’s good genius, not only assumes countless disguises, but dances, sings, whistles, and turns cathcrine-wheels with unflagging vivacity, never omittmg to be on the spot at the right moment to baulky the villain or to rescue persecuted virtue. Young Arnold, who (as Tony, the Teutonic hero of “ My Sweetheart,”) for many years “spooned” the buxom Minnie Palmer nightly, enacts the part of a rascally Italian padrone in “ Jack-in-the-Box ” with great effect.

Everybody is talking of the fracaa at the Gaiety Theatm last Thursday evening between a notable, not to say notorious, peer of sporting and theatrical tastes, and the son of a brand-new earl. The cause was “ a lady friend ” of the former’s, to whom tho latter had been lacking in respect. Before tho combatants could bo separated considerable execution had been done. One of them, in fact, got “a lovely black eye.” The death of Mr Felix Pryor recalls a sensational afternoon at Newmarket during the “ Hastings era.” This was at the first spring meeting of 18C7, when the young Lord Hastings put down a cool tivenly thottsand pound* on Athena (who had never before run in public, and was therefore quite green) for the Maiden Plate. The scene in the Ring before this race will never be forgotten by those who witnessed it. It had got about that the Danebury filly was a certainty, and bar a colt called Lord Palmerston nothing else was backed in earnest, though there were twenty runners. Lord Hastings's commission was executed at an average of evens (f.e., he laid L 20.000 on Athena beating the nineteen others), but so great was th o furore that much longer odds were at last betted on the favorite. Turning to ‘ Ruff’s Guide ’ for ISO" I find tho starting prices retailed : 2 to 1 on Athena, 6 to 1 against Lord Palmerston, 25 to 1 any other. Fordham rode for the Marquis, and Athena won in a canter by three lengths. The Ring “ squirmed ” over their losses, as they always do; but plucked up a bit when it transpired that the reckless Marquis, of tho severe race already in his young filly, had engaged to match her for LI,OOO a-sidc only two hours later against Mr Felix Pryor’s famous flyer Giimstone. It seemed sheer madness, and tho bookmakers naturally fielded strongly for Pryor's colt. _ As for the Marquis, be put down bis winnings like a man, laying LIO.OOO to LB.OOO, L 5,000 to L 4,000, and LGOO to L4OO on Athena. Again Fordham rode, hut this time it was no exercise gallop. Fortunately Athena proved a veritable flyer, and, after a desperate race, just got homo by half a length. Thus, in a single afternoon, Lord Hastings cleared the ring of close on L 40,000. People who talk of the “poor young Marquis's heavy losses ” sometimes forget these little incidents, which were tolerably numerous in 186fi-C7. “Women and cards, not horses, ruined Hastings,” says the Duke of Beaufort j and he, of all men, should know. The Waterloo Cup was divided by Mr Hornby's dog pnppy Herschel (by Mac-pherson—Star-gazing II.) and Mr Gladstone’s black dog Greater Scott (by Macpherson—Madge). Both greyhounds were highly fancied ; in fact, started favorites, bar, of course, Miss Glendyne. About the latter bitch the absurd price of 3 to 1 was taken on the night of the draw. She ran through the first two rounds brilliantly, and might have proved victrix a third year in succession, but for meeting with an accident in her tussle with Hermes. Mr Hibbert promptly sent for Jlutton, the bone-setter, but the latter could not get to Liverpool in time, and Evan Thomas, the local man, pronounced Miss Glendyne suffering from a sprain. Hardly, however, had Mr Hibbert reluctantly withdrawn his famous bitch from the contest than Hutton appeared on tho scene, and, after a moment’s manipulation, set her down perfectly well. A toe had got out of joint, that was all. This was aggravating, and as a stroke of bad luck seldom comes alone, it naturally followed that the kennel’s second string, the Kcnipton winner Hum Hulloa, should be put out in the fourth round after an undecided. The last four leit in were Clamor, Greater Scott, Herschel, and Jenny .Jones. Clamor will be remembered starting first favorite for the Waterloo Cup of 1885 and 1886. This year the old dog was supposed to have lost all form, and was not backed for sixpence. The Waterloo Plate fell to Mr Alexander’s Alec Ruby (by Alex Halliday out of Rubia), whilst Mr Hale’s Happy Omen (by Millington—Radiant), and Mr Graham’s Harpstring (by Glenlivet out of Polly) divided the purse. The Ring lose heavily over ifie Waterloo Cup, as the nominations of Mr Hornby and Mr Gladstone were the only ones really backed for money. Herschel became a public fancy after winning over Altcar some months back, and Greater Scott had a large following all through the winter.