LONDON TABLE TALK.

Evening Star, Issue 8644, 12 October 1891, Page 4

LONDON TABLE TALK.

[From Oub Special Correspondent.]

London, August 21.

The unfortunate holiday-makers at the seaside and in the country are experiencing, as was the case last August, simply awful weather. Dayß of heavy rain and mist alternate with periods of delusive sunshine and sudden drenching showers. To rich folk, who cm afford the tumorous discomforts of "furnished apartments" or a "select family boarding-house," this state of- affairs is disappointing enough, but to the poor housewife, who has economised twelve weary months, denying herself countlesß small comforts in order that the children might have a revivifying week at Margate or Yarmouth, it must be simply maddening. London is full of country cousins, Frenchmen and Amerioans. Large droves of the latter (five women to'one man) are to be met careeiing along the queerest quarters, generally in search of some odd monument or antiquity, of the existence of which the Philistine cockney is profoundly ignorant. News just at present there is none, properly speaking, and the papers are in oonsequence chronicling the."smallest of small beer" at prodigious length. For example, the story of the far from the edifying amours of the Rev. St. John Dearsley, a middle-aged country vicar, with hia housemaid fills cotumnß. The young lady avers the vicar is

the father of an undesired infant she has brought into the world, and he indignantly diaolaima the honor. Mrs Dearsley, a colorless lady with a spine oomplaint, gave evidenoe in her husband's favor. She was pressed in cross-examination as to his demeanor towards the peooant domestic, and had to admit it was affectionate. "Ho was fond of her, but not fonder than he was of me," said the poor lady. " But did you not exclaim when informed by the girl's mother of her condition and that Mr D.arsley was the scduoer: • What, again ! Am I never to bo able to keep a servant ? ' " asked counsel. Mrs Dearsley equivocated, but Gill, Q. 0., who had her in hand, was merciless. Finally Mrs Dearsley wisely went into hysterics, crying out Bhe hadn't a notion what he was asking her about, but that she would never, never desert her dear husband. The case is still sub judics, Another affair attracting an absurd and disproportionate amount of attention just now is what Londoners cill the Strand abduction case. Some months ago the little daughter (barely sixteen) cf a Strand tobacconist was abducted by an old friend of her father's—a baldheaded old villain of sixty, with a wife and grown up children of his own. Last week the police traced the runaways to Hastings, where they were living as father and daughter. On behalf of the abductor, Edward Arthur Maurice Callender Newton, it is contended that the girl was unhappy at home, and asked him to adopt her, and that he did so, meaning no evil, though he knew his action in carrying her off was illegal. The Bench declined to swallow this fairy tale, and refused bail. The child Lucy Pearman exchanged sympathising and loving glances with the prisoner, to whom the certainly seems devotedly attached. Her tears, and her avoidance of her parents roused the ire of a number of matrons in oourt, and when Edward A. M. C. Newton was removed from the box they hissed him vigorously. The man turned round, and observing that his wife, Mrs Newton, was the noisest of the hissers, struck a theatrical attitude and spat significantly. THE LIMEnOCSE MYSTERY. What is known as the Limehouse tragedy promises to turn out a highly sensational mystery, At first this deplorable affair appeared only an ordinarily Eaßt End murder, arising from easily understood causes. Mrs Adams, wife of a sailor of drinking habits and general bad character, residing at Woolwich, " took up," during an unusually prolonged absence of her husband, with John Alexander Lewis, a carman. The pair lived together for some days, and on a certain morning (August 4) were amicably swilling beer in the bar of the Three Colts Tavern, Limehouse. They had been there about half an hour when the landlord, who had his back to them, and was buuy cleaning his pewters, heard & shrill cry. Turning he saw that Lewis and Emily Adams were stabbed; whilst hurrying out of the door was the letter's husband, William Alexander Adams. A hue and cry was promptly raised, but Adams disappeared as completely and mysteriously as he had appeared. Emily Adams died, but Lewis was fortunately only slightly hurt. At the inquest both he and the landlord swore to the assassin being Adams. Moreover other witnesses deposed to seeing the murderer in the district on the 46h. The coroner's jury found Adams guilty of wilful murder, and hia photo was advertised in every ' Police Gszjtte'in the three kingdoms. This has led to a very startling and disconcerting result. It seems that on the 11th of July William HeDry Adams was convicted of a felony at Cardiff, and ever since has been in gaol there. The identity of the prisoner i 3 indubitable. Not merely the police, but Lewis and the landlord of the Three Colls have recognised him. The lastnamed pair, however, still persist Adams was at Limehouse on August 4. The Cardiff authorities of course laugh at this. At the hour the crime was committed the alleged murderer was eating his dinuor in Cardiff G ioI. Here, therefore, is a very pretty coil, unlets, indeed, Adams is a theosophic adept, able occasionally to bo apparently in two places ut once. MILS BESANT. Mrs Besant explains her action in repudiating the gospel according to Malthus with much clearcesa and precision in the current number of ' Lucifer.' Her Malthusianism, she maiataiDS, sprang from her Materialism, and when the latter went by the board 6he had to reconsider her views as to the limiting of fami'ies. Mr Stead predicts that Mrs Besant will eventually finish up a devout Roman Catholic. 00. Sunday evening this extraordinary woman bade farewell to the Frecthought community, of which she and Mr Bradlaugh were for so long "shining lights." It was an unpleasant ceremony for both parties, and might well have been dispensed with, but Mrs Besant is the last person to blench a disagreeahle duty. All her life the has been suffering for some principle or another. Malthusianism, she frankly admits, cost her a husband's love and regard aid the custody of their children. She now pronounces it a delusion. Theosophy is the only true religion, and H. P. Blavatsky is its prophetess. Mrs Besant's shrewd common sense will not, however, stand the hocus-pocus of this fin dc sieck creed long, and then Stead's prophecy is likely to be fulfilled. THE NULLITY .SUIT. Mr Justice Collins, though sincerely Eorry for the foolish young American girl who, as I told you last week, allowtd herself to be rushed into a marriage with her scoundrel cousin, could not see his way to annul the tio. Miss Cooper swore she was dazed by fright when Crane forced her to go through the ceremony with him at St. Bride's Church. The vicar, however, deolared he saw nothing unusual in the lady's manner. She repeated the responses, held out her band for the ring to be slipped on, and signed the register, all without falter or protest. He had not ; the glimmer of a suspicion there was anything wrong. The judge held that Miss Cooper had been foolish, but it was not the law's business to protect young ladies from the consequence of their folly. He could not believe she had been forcibly coerced into the marriage, and, therefore, though it would please him to relieve her of a cynical scamp like Crane, he could not interfere. The plaitstiffs in this case relied strongly on the precedent of Scott v. Sebright; but I hear the bulk of the legal profession are of opinion that this was bad law, and that Miss Giddy Scott was extremely lucky to get free. The curious feature of the CooperCrane case is that both husband and wife arc equally desirous of severing the nominal bond and unable to do it. Crane, you remember, coolly told Misa Cooper's solicitor he only married his cousin for her money, and now he found she had none, or rather only a little, he desired to get rid of the tic as soon as possible. ceorge eliot's manuscripis. The George Eliot manuscripts have, in accordance with the wishes of the late owner, been presented to the British Museum, and are now on view there. Upon concluding a book it was this writer's custom to have the MS. (which she specially arranged with her printers should be kept clean) bound, and to present the volume to her husband, The inscriptions are all intensely loving. That in ' Adam Bede' runs thus : To my dear husband, George Henry Lewes, I give this MS. of a work which would never have been written but for the happiness which his love has conferred on my life. Marion Lbwes.

March 23rd, 18?0. In the front page of • Romola' is the following : To my husband, whose perfect ove hsa been the best eource of her insight and strength, the manuscript ia given by bis devoted wife, the Author. The manuscript was begun on the Ist of January, 1862, and finished on June 9,1863.

The inscription in the 'Spanish Gipsy' runs :

To my dear—every day dearer—husband,

October, 1868. The others are equally affectionate and loving. Will it be believed that a correspondent of the 'Fall Mall Gazette,' a dieciple (so the wretch boasts) of Stead's, writes to protest against the "nauseous hypocrisy" of these inscriptions. It ia (says this canting fiend) well known that George Henry Lewes had a wife living, and that he and Marion Evana were " living in sin."

That anyone who knows the facta and has read • Adam Bede' can use such an expression as " living in sin" concerning an incomparable woman like Marion Evana only shows the sickening depths to whioh bigotry may bring an apparently sane human being.

AMUSEMENTS. * Arrah-na-Pogue,' whioh is almost as safe a card to play in London as the * Streets of London,' will be revived at the Princess's early next mouth. It was originally produced at this house twenty-five years ago, with Mr and Mrs Bouoieault, George Vining, Dominick Murray, Miss M. Oliver, and John Brougham in the leading parts. Mrs Bouoieault alone survives.

The part whioh young Henry Irving (who is to be known on the stage as H. B, Irving) will play in < School' at the Garriok Theatre is not Jaok Poynts, but Lord Beaufoy, whioh handsome Harry Montague originally created. I fancy the last Lord Beaufoy of the Bancroft revivals' was also a Harry—viz., H. B. Conway, According to report, Mr Bancroft returns to the stage to play Poyntz, LITERARY NOTES. The long-promised and much-delayed new volume of fiction by Budyard Kipling was published last Friday, and is a great improvement on the American piracies stolen from Eaglieh magazines. It contains altogether twenty-seven tales, and has finally been christened ' Life's Handicap: Being Stories of Mine Own People.' Three of Mulvaney's yarns (' The Inoarnation of Krishna Mulvaney,'' The Courting of Dinah Shadd,' and 'On Greenhow Hill') lead off. Then come 3 the tragio and powerful • Man Who Was,' 'The Head of the Distriot,' and 'At the Ead of the Passage,' which I cao never think of even now without shuddering. ' The Mark of the Beast' moßt of you have read in the colonial papers,' but' Beltran and Bimi,'«The Finances of the Gods,' and ' The City of Dreadful Night' are quite new. There are also several short pieces—probably resurrected from Indian papers—whioh I have not had time to go through yet. The price of ' Life's Handicap' is six shillings. Tho second series of 'Modern Men,' from the ' National Observer,' is not as entertaining and instructive as the first. Mr Henley has gone mad on what he calls "style." This really means his own mannerisms, whioh are grafted on to his contributors' articles, often with disastrous effect. Moreover, the matter of this second series is really poor compared to that of the first. George R. Sims, for example, gets a singularly indiacriminating castigation; whilst Walt Whitman is pronounced a prince of poets. The analyses of Archdeacon Farrar, George Lewis, and De Blowitz must, however, be pronounced distinctly clever.

t Messrs Bentley are adding Miss Fothergill's 'Aldyth' to their green 6a serioß. This was almost the Manchester authoress's first book. Miss Coreili's nightmare novel 'Wormwood,' which has been translated into French, German, and Swedish, is likewise a recent addition to Bentley's favorite series.

Mr Barry Pain does batter when imitating J. M. Barrie than when trying to hit off Jerome K. Jerome's broad Cockney humor. Hia ' In a Canadian Canoe,' just published, is poor Btuff. ' Two Girls in a Barge,' by Violet Cotes, describes the serio - comic adventures of two maidens who fit up an ordinary barge habitably, and investigate life on the canals of old England. I have only glanced at this so far, but thought it promieed well, Caspar Brooke's Daughter' is the story of a love match between an earl's daughter and a poor but proud Socialist journalist. The pair really adore each other, but their trainings have been very different, and mis understandings (carefully fostered by mischief makers) arise, and create unhappiness. Finally the wife, believing Caspar Brooke false in thought (if not in deed) to her, leaves him for ever, taking their little daughter with her. Brooke, mystified and deeply hurt, agrees to a separation, but stipulates that when the girl turns nineteen she shall come to him for a long visit. The greater part of the three volumes deals with the history of this visit, which rcsultp, as the perspicuous reader suspects it will from thejbeginning, in the Brookes' reconciliation. There is a sub-plot of seme iuterebt, and altogether 'Caspar Brooke's Daughter,' it not up to a high standard, must be pronounced readable, TURF CHAT. The Yorkshire circuit commenced at Stockton on Tuesday in splendid weather. The Stockton Handicap of one mile and three-quarters was the principal event, and looked well within the reach of Houndsditch, notwithstanding his 9st burden, On being seen, however, Mr Lowther's horse quickly went back in the betting, and of the five other runners Sir B, Jardine's St. Benedict (4 yrs, Bst 31b) seemed the pick, The colt was well backed down to 6 to 4, and a little went on Lord Rosslyn's Martenhurst at 3 to 1, 7 to 2 being laid Houndsditch and 11 to 2 Risebery Despatch. The latter is the property of J, Glover, a wellknown travelling tipster, who loses racing the handsome income ho makes, providing the public with "all today's winners for one shilling." On Tuesday Glover was in luck, as Rosebery Despatch (4 yrs, 7st lib) fairly slipped the field, and, making all the running, won in a canter by five lengths from the favorite, with Martenhurst third.