The Day's Doing's (1870–1872)

[dem bones]

More from the British Newspaper Archive. Two anonymous stories from The Day's Doing's, the short-lived (1870–1872) London edition of Frank Reade's long-running New York publication. The House no one could live in is haunted by the ghosts of a murderer and his victims, while The Dead Resuscitated - a warning against the evils of drink - was evidently butchered at the last minute to fill space, or else the author couldn't be bothered explaining how poor Marie Vignon wound up on the slab in the first place.

From those issues browsed, The Day's Doing's shared the same magnificently morbid fixations as Illustrated Police News, though we should warn the coverage of unspeakable crime, human degradation and appalling tragedy is rarely quite as twisted and gloating as their feted contemporary (though they have their moments). Whatever, I seem to have transcribed more of this stuff than I realised, so will be posting sample news items for you to run screaming from over coming days.

Here's some to be getting on with.

Extraordinary Superstition in Somersetshire

OUR readers who have visited the Islington Cattle Show this week will be rather astonished to read the following incident, reported from a village near Ilchester, in Somersetshire. It seems a well-to-do farmer, who has always borne the reputation of a shrewd man of business, a few weeks since had the misfortune to find a strange fatality among his herd of cows. A veterinary surgeon was called in, and every precaution taken, and the remainder of the herd were in a fair way of recovery, when suddenly the farmer became suspicious, and insisted that he and his cows had been "overlooked," and immediately sought out a "wise woman" residing in an adjacent town. Acting upon the advice of the old hag, the farmer returned home, and shortly encircled with faggots the last bullock that died, ignited the pile, and burned the carcase, an incantation being pronounced over the burning beast. The remainder of the herd recovered, and their recovery is, of course, attributed by the farmer and his simple-minded neighbours, not to the skill of the veterinary surgeon, but to the success of the weird ceremonial prescribed by the fortune-teller.

— The Day's Doings, 9 Dec. 1871

An Unsubstantial Ghost

The Combined Effect of Imagination and Lime-light

A PROVINCIAL town which has, during the last ten years, acquired no inconsiderable notoriety for horrors and sensations, has now startled its inhabitants with a ghost.

It seems on one night lately, as four intoxicated fellows were proceeding down the High-street, a figure suddenly made its appearance before the front door of the United Presbyterian Church; one of the company, more venturesome than the other, scaled the railings and interviewed the ghost, and so enraptured was he with it that the efforts of his companions to get him away were unavailing, and the infatuated fellow remained with it till light, at which time the ghost incontinently departed. The report of his interview soon spread throughout the length and breadth of the borough, and the lower class of the inhabitants, fully alive to the importance of seeing the ghost, flocked to the place the next Sunday evening. They were not disappointed in their desire to see it, for shortly after nine o'clock the ghost made its appearance, and with occasional intermissions remained until a late hour of the night. The ghost was that of a female about seven feet in height, and clothed with the habiliments that ghosts are prone to wear. Clasped in its arms was a child, apparently of tender years, also clothed in white.

The whole figure had the appearance of just emerging from the church. Immediately upon its appearance there was a stampede of the crowd that had gathered, and their fears were not at all allayed by the announcement made by the driver of a passing fly, that it was running up the church steeple!" Gradually they became reassured, and begin to gather once more, and some of the boldest of them had the courage to advance to the iron fence surrounding the church-yard, and there they clung and waited, but the ghost did not walk in that night.

A few evening after it again made its appearance, and proved a greater excitement even than that of its former visit; and a large hooting, yelling mob of men, women, and children greeted its advent. The ghost was obstinate, however, and only appear fitfully for a minute or two at a time. An inhabitant of the town, who is evidently a sceptic as regards spiritual manifestations, suggests to us, that some person in the neighbourhood of the church has a lime-light magic lantern aparatus, and is making fools of the people for the delectation of himself and a choice circle of friends; and the ghost will probably be on exhibition every evening until farther notice, or until the police are able to find out the disturber of the peace when it will, no doubt, break out in another place. Meanwhile the inhabitants are delighted, with the exception of the respectable residents of the town.

— The Day's Doings, 28 Jan. 1871

Attachments:

The House no one could live in.pdf (147.69 KB)

The Dead Resusicated.pdf (126.33 KB)

[toff]

Love the old illustrations! Clip art and AI art these days is no substitution.

[dem bones]

Superb, aren't they? If only they'd credited the poor artists. Unfortunately, some of the scanned pages are pretty feint, and occasionally I found it difficult to decipher the text, as was the case with the report on the fire.

Fatal Accident on the Ice
Heartrending Scene.

A FATAL accident has occurred on the ice at Hobson's Pool, Macclesfield, which gave rise to an affecting scene. A number of boys were sliding when the ice gave way, and one of them, named Frederick Lowndes, was immersed in the water. He rose to the surface, and for some time supported himself by clutching at the ragged edge of the hole. A crowd of people were spectators of his struggles. Some made attempts to reach him, which were frustrated by the weakness of the ice, and the boy was unable to catch the rope which was thrown him. Amongst other eyewitnesses of the scene was the boy's mother, who made various daring but utterly fruitless endeavours to save her child. At last his strength gave way and he sank. The mother fainted and was carried home. The body was afterwards recovered.

— The Day's Doings, 16 Dec. 1872

Boxing-Night

THE festivities of the season have brought about their usual results at the various Police-courts in London. The magistrates one and all, when drunkenness only was charged, have discharged the offenders without being fined.
We have this week illustrated a Boxing-night event which has come under our notice, and which we fear is not a singular and solitary case. A gentleman returning home through Brooke-street, Holborn, at about one o'clock in the morning felt a handkerchief put round his throat from behind, in a very tight manner. He found himself securely held by three women, and his pockets turned inside out. Everything of value was taken from him, and he was left almost insensible upon the pavement. The women disappeared. What was, no doubt, considered a rich prize by the lady garrotters was, however, a watch manufactured of Pyke's Abyssinian gold. A constable, who found the unfortunate gentleman, informed his inspector "That the gent was not drunk, nor yet sober, for he could not be drunk as he could stand up!"

— The Day's Doings, 31 Dec. 1870

A Christmas Eve of Horror. The Burning of the Spottswood Hotel, Richmond, Virginia.

CHRISTMAS EVE at Richmond, Virginia, was the coldest for thirteen years. The ground was covered with hard frozen snow, and the thermometer indicated five degrees. At a quarter-past two o'clock that morning, just as the porter began waking passengers for the southern train, the Spottswood Hotel was discovered to be on fire on the lower floor. An effort was made to awaken the guests, and the scene was indescribable. Men were rushing about trying to save their baggage: and the women, nearly naked and barefooted, were fleeing into the snow-covered streets.
The water being frozen, it was some time before the steam engines could play on the building. In twenty minutes the flames spread to such an extent [indecipherable; the stairway?] was cut off. The guests had leapt from the windows. P. P. Chak, of Philadelphia, the steward of the hotel, leaped from the third story, and was fatally injured. The startling image of the disaster was the appearance of Mrs Emily Kinnerly, of Baltimore, who looked out at the window in the fifth story, with one or two other ladies, screaming for help. The fire engines' ladders were put up, but failed by two stories to reach the window. While the firemen were endeavouring to lengthen the ladders, the shrieking women disappeared in the blinding smoke, and were lost. Eight of the guests are supposed to have perished.
It is a notable fact that the only building on the block that escaped the flames is the corner store that stopped the conflagration at the time of the evacuation of Richmond by the Confederate troops.
It was so intensely cold that the telegraph wires in front of the burning buildings were covered with ice, and the fire steamers were encased in ice an inch thick.
Among the remarkable escapes was that of C. Chefter, attached to the order of the State printer, who was in the fourth story, and escaped by dropping from window cornice to window cornice until he retched the ground. He was badly burned, however.
Mr. A. R. Leth, a special agent of the Treasury Department, was a guest at the time of the fire. He states that soon after two am, on the third story, he heard a sound below is if someone was breaking kindling wood. He looked out of the window, but saw nothing unusual. The noise continuing, however, he commenced dressing himself leisurely, as he [indecipherable; prepared?] to take the next railroad train. Before leaving his room he turned off the gas, and, going towards the window, saw a light from the outside, which he soon discovered proceeded from flames bursting from the story under him. He then heard a women, whom he supposed to be the housekeeper, cry, in wild alarm: "My God! The house is on fire!
He called to her to dress herself; and, with the view of calming her excitement, said to her that there was no danger on her side, but that it was on his. He then proceeded to knock at all the doors in the third story, to awake the occupants of the rooms and urge them to dress themselves quickly as the house was on fire. Mr. Leth then descended to the second story, where he found Mr. Shure knocking at the doors, waking the guests, who were soon all up and alive to their danger. The utmost alarm now naturally prevailed, and in the general eagerness to escape, the passage-way of the private entrance was in a short time crowded, and owing to the pressure, the doors could not be opened until, by extraordinary force, the crowd was pushed back, and room was made for that purpose. The housekeeper, Mrs. Kinnerly, was the second person who awoke on that morning, but perished by being cut off by the flames, having delayed in order to look after her trunk. The man having it in his possession preceded her, and barely got beyond her when the flames impeded her progress, and the stairway fell.

— The Day's Doings, 28 Jan. 1871

[toff]

To the extent that The Day's Doings might have been copying Harper's, which had its own different illustrations: 

the flames spread to such an extent that escape from the upper stories by means of the stairways was cut off
[...]
he commenced dressing humself leisurely, as he intended to take the next railroad train.
"Burning of the Spottswood House." Harper's Weekly. January 14, 1871: 29-30.

Feb 4, 2024 12:12:09 GMT dem bones said:

In twenty minutes the flames spread to such an extent [indecipherable; the stairway?] was cut off.
[...]
The noise continuing, however, he commenced dressing himself leisurely, as he [indecipherable; prepared?] to take the next railroad train. 

[𝘗rincess 𝘵uvstarr]

New York Herald (1870-12-27)

Feb 5, 2024 3:43:19 GMT toff said:

To the extent that The Day's Doings might have been copying Harper's, which had its own different illustrations: 

the flames spread to such an extent that escape from the upper stories by means of the stairways was cut off
[...]
he commenced dressing humself leisurely, as he intended to take the next railroad train.
"Burning of the Spottswood House." Harper's Weekly. January 14, 1871: 29-30.

Feb 4, 2024 12:12:09 GMT dem bones said:

In twenty minutes the flames spread to such an extent [indecipherable; the stairway?] was cut off.
[...]
The noise continuing, however, he commenced dressing himself leisurely, as he [indecipherable; prepared?] to take the next railroad train. 


New York Herald (1870-12-27) version (From Internet Archive):

[dem bones]

Thanks for filling in the blanks. From what I've seen of DD, it borrowed from all manner of publications, and, in fairness, often acknowledged the source, though not on this occasion. Maybe a syndicated story?

A Monster of the Deep.

A Cuttle-fish among the Bathers.

Now that the bathing season is at its full height, and so many of our readers are enjoying their morning dip, we feel almost reluctant to alarm them by illustrating an extraordinary scene which has recently transpired at a fashionable watering place in South America. But the incident and the illustration are both so strangely terrible that our scruples must be subdued.

Our artistic correspondent tells us that the other day a party of young ladies wended their way from the promenade to the beach in order to indulge in a mid-day bath. Dropping their pretty morning dresses, and donning their picturesque and piquant bathing robes, they plunged with joy and laughter into the placid waters of the ocean, which had never looked more temptingly, coolly, refreshingly beautiful.

One of the party, a girl of nineteen, ventured out into the surf somewhat beyond her companions, and announced her intention of sunning herself on a rock which jutted up near the shore. This intention, however, was not fulfilled, for as she approached the rock, suddenly and most unexpectedly a horrible living something, a terrible-looking, scaly centre, from which radiated on all sides long animated projections, which seemed to answer the purposes of arms and legs, rose to the surface of the water, and with great rapidity fastened itself upon the rock by a portion of its monstrous. "feelers," while with the remainder it enclosed the shrieking girl in its embrace. In vain did she strive to extricate herself from the abominable embrace of the enveloping demon of the sea. The cuttle-fish — for such it proved to be (similar to the devil fish, so powerfully described by Victor Hugo in his "Toilers of the Sea") — would not let go his grip, holding her by the shoulder, the waist, and the skirt of her bathing-dress, and had it not been for the opportune arrival of two men, who rushed into the water, armed, the one with a knife, the other with an iron bar, the young girl would have fallen a victim to the most horrible creature yet revealed to man by the mysterious ocean. As it was, the fish was only destroyed after a most vigorous resistance, and had to be literally hacked to pieces before it would unloose its hold.

— The Day's Doings, 5 August 1871

A Quadrille of Headless Men

WE translate the following grotesquely horrible story from the Paris Figaro :-

This day eight days a wedding was celebrated at A —. A merchant's clerk named Marius Crampin married a young girl of 18, called Anna R —. Anna R — was an orphan from childhood, and had been educated by an old priest dead six months ago. Though she was very attractive and had a dowry of fifty thousand francs — a respectable sum for a simple clerk — Crampin was far from jubilant when he left the church. Some of his friends, in fact, on hearing of his marriage had sneered at the matter in rather a singular manner, without offering any explanations, and had declined to be present at the wedding. Besides, when the sacrifice was consummated, Crampin felt tormented by suspicions which before marriage he repelled with contempt. In order to dispel them he drank deep, and towards midnight he was pretty mellow.

It was now time to retire to rest. The bride went first, and extinguished the taper. Five minutes afterwards Crampin in turn arrived. "Hallo!" he exclaimed, stumbling, "my wife pretends to be asleep. We must light the candle again." But just as he was about to strike a light with a match he heard a rustling of curtains, and a man appeared — a man of great height, wrapped in a white shroud that was spotted over with blood, and without a head. He carried a red lantern. Crampin uttered a stifled exclamation, the bride rose hastily, and the two remained spellbound by terror at the frightful spectacle before their eyes. For from the corners of the room emerged other three headless persons, all clothed in white, but blood-bespattered winding-sheets, each with a red lantern in the one hand, and his head in the other. They stationed themselves in front of the fireplace and saluted the young couple in a ceremonious manner. Then, strange to tell, they spoke. Crampin, in his terror, knew not whether the voice issued from the body or from the head. "Good day to you, Citizen Crampin," said one of the headless beings, "I am Joseph Grigois, a client of thy wife's great-great-grandfather." "Give me thy hand, Crampin," said the other, sneeringly, "Madame knows me too. I lost my head in 1838 at the hands of her grandfather." By this time Crampin was down on his knees, and his bride was moaning in a state of distraction from fear. But they were alone in the house, which was situated at the gates of the town, and nobody came near them. The third phantom then advanced. "Little one," he said, in an amiable tone, "thou canst boast of having had a grandfather who did his work admirably. I, too, passed through his hands." "Good God!" groaned Crampin in despair, "the man without a head speaks through his nose." "Step out, children," called out the fourth spectre; "the nuptial ball is about to begin. Forward both!" And the four guillotined persons, taking their places, broke into a dance, a supernatural can-can that froze the blood in the veins of the young couple. They leaped up and down, backwards and forwards, spread wide their winding-sheets like great white wings, and played like jugglers with their heads. It was frightful, and all the more when suddenly they burst out in chorus, and sang some staves of a horribly grotesque song. Then all at once, opening the door, they disappeared in the dark lobby, after having deposited the four heads on the knees of the bride." Merciful heavens!" gasped out the latter with horror, "the clients of my family!" "What family, Madame ?" yelled Crampin, horrified, in the midst of his terror, by the exclamation. "Forgive me," supplicated the bride, throwing herself on her knees before him. "Grandpapa was an executioner." The wretched Crampin sprang to his feet and then fell senseless. As soon as he returned to himself, without taking time to pack his trunk, he precipitately left the town, and has not again been seen. The investigations of the police into this mysterious affair resulted in the discovery that the four guillotined persons were none other than the friends of Crampin, who had learned, one knows not how, of the unfortunate connections of the bride. The four heads were four melons.

— The Day's Doings, 17 August 1872

A GHOST IN A COAL PIT.— The present tide of prosperity in the coal trade has been disturbed at the Broughton Colliery, near this town, by the appearance of a ghost in the underground workings, which has had the effect of frightening some of the colliers from the pit. None of the men profess to having had a sight of the spirit who appears to have taken up his abode in this "vasty deep," but they all confess to having heard at times the most unearthly sounds, and when they proceed to search for the cause, the same noises are heard in quite an opposite quarter. The fear that has taken hold of the men is such as to interfere considerably with the working of the colliery, and it shows that colliers, like sailors, are excessively superstitious on the ghost question. — Wrexham Advertiser.

— The Day's Doings, 17 Aug. 1872.

[dem bones]

A South London Ghost

THE ghost of a muffled burglar is to be seen every night in the Camberwell New-road. The phantom is perfectly harmless, the worst that is said of him by his detractors being that he goes through the form of picking a lock with invisible keys — skeleton, no doubt — from eve to dewy morn, trembling over his guilty performance in a weird and tremulous way, startling to behold. The idea of the spirit of a defunct burglar condemned to go through the operation of "cracking a crib" which is never cracked, is one which seizes hold of the popular imagination as one embodying a grim kind of poetic justice, and the result is perpetual crowds "snatching a fearful joy" from the exhibition. One very remarkable fact is, that the ghost does not appear on Sunday evenings until after divine service in the chapel adjoining the villa, the portico of which the spectre nightly haunts. Of course this is easily accounted for in a ghost; but some profane people attempt utterly inadmissible explanations of the whole affair. They point out that one of the private lamps at Mr. Tiddy's chapel gates is in a line between a public lamp on the opposite side of the way, and the portico of the villa. Hence the shadow, they say — but will unbelievers not say? — of the private lamp unlit falls on the door of the villa (which is reached by several steps) in such a manner as to give the appearance of a muffled human being tampering with the lock, the flickering gas supplying the motion. When the private lamp is lit, they further affirm, it throws no shadow, or rather it lights up the portico, and there is no ghost. Specious, but how much easier and more consonant with all experience to believe in the real ghost! It saves a world of trouble and speculation. — South London Press.

— The Day's Doings, 21 September 1872


The Peckham Ghost

THE more timid portion of the inhabitants of Honor Oak, Lordship-lane, Dulwich, Streatham, and Peckham, have for the past month been annoyed and alarmed by the vagaries of some brainless fool, who, apparently, has been endeavouring to revive the terror caused many years ago by "Spring-heeled Jack." This ghostly visitor first made its appearance near Honor Oak Church, and has the reputation for performing wonderful feats in vaulting over walls and fences. Those who have seen this mysterious figure describe it as that of a tall man upwards of six feet high, dressed in the conventional white, and making his approach with outstretched arms. Of course women and children are particularly favoured by this rascal, several of whom he has succeeded in frightening; but the other night he appeared to one of the sterner sex — the carrier from Camberwell to Peckham, Honor Oak, and Dulwich. This man, who is a big stalwart fellow, had reached Mr. Dawson's field at Lordship-lane, when his ghostship suddenly started forward. Here was an opportunity for the carrier to have distinguished himself; but instead of giving the miscreant a good thrashing, as one would naturally have anticipated, he became so terrified that he immediately lashed his horses into a gallop, thus in his fright breaking the law, which says that a stage waggon shall only travel four miles an hour. Some say he was afterwards found insensible at the bottom of his waggon.
On Sunday week, two of Dr. Carver's daughters (young girls from 14 to 16 years of age) were on the point of starting for church with their governess, a little before 7 p.m. The younger of the two happened to be in advance, and had just passed through the open door on to the step, when she saw moving rapidly towards her across the carriage drive, at about eight or ten yards distance, a figure enveloped in white, and with arms extended. Startled and alarmed, the young lady screamed out, and sprang hastily back into the porch, communicating her fright to her companions. They, meanwhile, had caught sight of the miscreant; but in the alarm and confusion which ensued—the door being only partly open—they were unable to observe in which direction the contemptible fellow made his escape. The night was dark, and the gas-lamp opposite the door (whether by accident or design) was extinguished, so that a careful search of the garden and grounds a few minutes afterwards failed to reveal the culprit, who had no doubt in the interim doffed or covered up his disguise, and got clear off. Distinct traces were, however, discovered in the morning in the crashed and downtrodden grass of some one having stationed himself behind a small shrubbery on the front lawn, from which he would command a full view of the approach without being seen himself.
In addition to the above, there are innumerable cases of people who have been frightened, and there is considerable discrepancy as to the dress and appearance of the man. It was rumoured that he had been arrested by the police, the report, however, being without foundation. We believe the true solution of the mystery is that this knave wears a long coat, something like an Ulster overcoat, which is lined with white; and this being suddenly thrown open and extended, gives to him, with the addition of a vest or underclothing of white, this ghostly appearance —nothing of course being easier than to button his coat and walk off undiscovered. We hope, however, shortly to chronicle his capture, and also that the punishment he so richly merits has been given to him.— South London Press.

— The Day's Doings, 16 Nov. 1872.

THERE is a ghost at work in Georgia, who, to judge by the account given of his proceedings by the Macon Enterprise, seems to be quite as troublesome as the Peckham ghost. The Georgia ghost has taken possession of a house, No. 6, Macon and Brunswick Railroad, and its atrocities excite wide-spread sensation. The ghost broke nearly all the crookery and glass-ware in the house, and scattered nearly all the furniture and contents of the wardrobes about the floors, and set an old family clock going at the rate of five hours a minute, although its works were in perfect order. Having finished with the clock, the ghost set a pair of scissors jumping about the floor; it then threw a red-hot brickbat at a reporter, and incited a hot smoothing-iron to jump at him. The reporter by this time needing refreshment, dinner was served, but was disturbed by a shower of corn from the ceiling and the smashing of glass. In the meantime horrible occurrences were going on in the kitchen, where knives, pots, skillets, and crockery were falling around the cook, to her intense horror and disgust. The house, it seems, is occupied by a quiet old gentleman, M. Guenency, but it is to be feared his quietness must be rather disturbed, for by the latest accounts there were at least three hundred or four hundred persons surrounding his dwelling, and the Macon and Brunswick Railway had despatched an extra train to the spot filled with excited passengers. It is also stated that people were "coming in from all directions."

— The Day's Doings, 30 Nov. 1872.

On Friday, Joseph Monday, 43, described as a labourer, was charged at Lambeth police-court, with loitering in Bath place, Peckham, and also by menaces and gestures frightening Arthur Radgrave, Matilda Ayres, and others, whereby they went in bodily fear— This case causal considerable commotion from the fact that for weeks past the inhabitants of Peckham have been, nightly alarmed by the pranks played by an individual describe as the "Peckham Ghost." Dozens of persons have been startled by the appearance of a figure clothed in white suddenly confronting them in some lonely spot, and children and females particularly have been greatly alarmed. For weeks the police have been endeavouring to catch this "Ghost," but without effect, until Thursday night when the prisoner was captured. Inspector Gedge of the P division, deposed that several complaints had been lodged at the station of persons being alarmed by the "Ghost." Thursday night, after the prisoner was captured, it was ascertained that a person carrying a half gallon of beer in a stone bottle was passing along, when a man suddenly confronted him, and throwing up his arms and uttering some dismal cries so alarmed him that he dropped the vessel containing the beer, and ran off in the utmost dismay. Several other persons had been frightened by the proceedings of the "ghost," and females and children in many instances were afraid to come out after dark. Matilda Ayres, aged 13, said, on Thursday night, about eight, she was in the Sumner-road, when she saw a man whom she afterwards identified as the prisoner. He suddenly confronted her, threw up his arm, uttered some strange sound, and greatly alarmed her. She ran home, and shortly afterwards heard that the "ghost" was captured. She had before seen. him, and he then alarmed her. Inspector Gedge mentioned that there were other witnesses, not in attendance, who could speak as to the fright they had received by the operations of the prisoner. It further appeared that, after the alarm was given that the "Peckham Ghost" was in the neighbourhood of Sumner-road, a large number of the inhabitants turned out for the purpose of capturing him, and ultimately he was followed and run down to a house where he had taken refuge. Upon him was found a quantity of peas, which he was said to use in throwing at the windows of houses, and greatly alarming the inmates late at night. The prisoner denied the charge, and said, "I am as innocent as a new-born babe." He also said he had no home. He was remanded for a week. If any of our readers can find consolation in the fact, we may state, from personal observation, that the "ghost" has neither springs to his feet nor wings on his back. He was not dressed in a white sheet, neither did he have a mask on his face, nor bore out in any way the descriptions which from time to time have been given. He is a ragged and dirty-looking individual, of at least 45 years of age, and apparently a most unlikely person to jump over fences and hedges, which the "ghost" of Dulwich, if we may believe report, appears to be able to do. He has a somewhat sinister expression of countenance. His complexion is unhealthy looking; he has dark hair, while his moustache and the fringe of hair round his chin are of a lighter colour. He was dressed, when caught, in an old brown coat, under which he wore a dirty white jacket, and he carried on his arm a long brown great-coat. In his pocket were found a quantity of peas, and this fact seems to implicate him somewhat in the transaction; for one of the complaints made against the ghost is, that he is addicted to throwing peas against people's shutters.

— The Day's Doings, 7 Dec. 1872.

A Night with the Dulwich Ghost.

A CORRESPONDENT of the South London Press gives the following interesting account of a meeting with the now notorious "ghost' that has been infesting the neighbourhood of Peckham and Dulwich of late:-

"Take one, take two, three, any number of thousands of pounds but go and capture the Ghost," Such, Mr. Editor, I thought were the words you had uttered to me, as I awoke from a sound sleep, into which I had fallen after reading "How I Discovered Livingstone." Springing from my couch, I exclaimed "I will do it." Of course when my scattered senses were collected, I was more than disappointed to find that "twas all a dream." However, in the interest of your widely-circulated journal I determined to act on the idea suggested.

Having made up my mind on the course to pursue, I engaged the services of two companions, and on the following evening we started on our journey, and in a very short time reached the wilds of Lordship-lane. Some hours were spent in scouring the country, but without meeting anything more formidable than a yelping dog. And so, wet, hungry, and tired, we returned to our respective homes disconsolate, and my companions vowed that they would have nothing more to do with any such Quixotic expeditions. However, nothing daunted, on the following evening I started off alone. It was a fearful night, and when I reached the open country of Dulwich I half repented me of my rashness, and wished myself at home before the cosy fire; for the wind howled in fitful gusts, and piped amongst the branches of the trees in a most ghostly manner, and every now and then the wild blast took up heaps of dead leaves and hurled them in my face, as if trying to turn me from my purpose. But I had "screwed my courage to the sticking post," and though chilled with the rain, and beaten with the wind, I pressed forward, and determined that my search for the villainous ghost should be thorough. So I wandered about for hours without success, and began to despair of a "meeting," and made up my mind to return to the bosom of my family.

I reached West Dulwich station, and was chagrined to find that the last train my way had just gone. So, as there was help for it, I buttoned my coat up closer, grasped my good stick tighter, and started to walk to Herne Hill across the fields which run parallel with the railway. On a dry moonlight night it is by no means a disagreeable walk; but after heavy rain this path is one huge mud swamp, while the most careful navigation is needed to avoid stumbling into the holes that abound on either side. I had proceeded some distance, my mind intent on picking my way, when I became conscious of something being in my path a few yards ahead. It was too dark to discern what that "something" was, but I judged from the outline it was the stump of a tree. A moment's reflection, however, served to dispel this idea, for the thing was nearly in the centre of the path; and, as I had travelled the road some hundreds of times before, I felt sure I should have seen it if a tree. I went forward a few paces, and then felt convinced that the "something" was a tall human figure, enveloped in a long cloak. It was perfectly motionless, and the head and face seemed to be hidden in a hood. I hesitated to advance as I thought of footpads, garotters, &c., and fancied there might be confederates hidden behind the hedge; and the place being so lovely and far removed from the habitations, any deeds of violence might have been committed before assistance could arrive. My first impulse was to turn back; my second that, having faced danger in a thousand forms in various parts of the world, it would be cowardly to quail now. My only weapon was a stout oak stick, with a formidable knob. So, tightly grasping the thin end of the stick so as to use the knob as a life preserver, I advanced. As I did so, I became aware that two or more men were creeping behind the hedge. Feeling convinced from this that I had been waylaid, and that robbery was the object, I stopped and in a determined voice said I was fully prepared to resist any attempt at violence. Of course all thought of the ghost had left me, and so I was not prepared for the horrid apparition that suddenly appeared before me. The "something" that I had at first taken for a broken, branchless tree, changed into a huge white spectre. The face was ghastly and phosphorescent, and rendered still more hideous by large teeth, which seemed to show in the same way as the old sulphur matches when rubbed against a wall in a dark room. I must confess that for a moment I was startled. And had I not been blessed with particularly strong nerves, the consequences might have been serious. When this apparition disclosed itself, I could dimly discern two or three men in a crouching position walking off across the field. The feeling produced by the sudden start passed away in a very few moments, as I realised that the very thing I had come in search of stood before me. I rushed towards the sheeted figure, which was, as near as I could judge, about thirty yards away. My whole frame was quivering with rage at the silly idiot who could indulge in such a dangerous practical joke. And if I could but have got within arms length, my trusty stick should have cracked his empty skull. However, he was as quick as I was: the flaps of his cloak shut to, as it were, like the doors of a cupboard, the hood came down over the face, and the fellow bounded off in a manner that convinced me he had on a pair of spring boots. I gave chase, splashing and squelching through the slush until I was bespattered from head to foot. A wild chase of about five minutes terminated disastrously to myself. The ghost personifier, with a tremendous, bound cleared a wooden railing that was backed by a quick-set hedge, and, mounting the railway embankment, disappeared on the other side, as I plunged into a muddy ditch. Half suffocated, I dragged myself out, and shiveringly wended my way home-wards, feeling that I had come to grief in a good cause.

From what I could judge, the fellow was attired in an Ulster coat lined with white, the hood serving to cover the face, which was disguised with a net mask, rendered luminous by being rubbed with phosphor oil, which of course can be conveniently carried in a small bottle in the pocket, and used as occasion requires. He wears a pair of spring boots, such as are used sometimes by circus clowns, so that when once an impetus has been gained, such obstacles as the ordinary hedge or gate can be easily cleared. He is a tall man, probably a little over six feet, though I fancy the boots add a few inches to the ordinary height. The figures I saw moving away I feel convinced were his confederates, and this quiet lonely spot had been chosen as a rendezvous, either before or after the night's sport; and my appearance in the lane was as much a surprise to them as the ghost was to me. As his ghostship no doubt peruses your journal, and in reading this account will feel highly delighted to think how I came to grief, I take this means of informing him that he had a very narrow escape, for a small two barrel "shooting iron" I was to have taken with me had been forgotten. Had it been in my possession at the moment the spectre discovered itself to me, I venture to say he would have had a bad account to give of himself to his kindred spirits."

In another column we give the examination of an individual charged at the Lambeth police court with being the ghost in question, but whose description by no means tallies with that given above, We fear the real offender is still at large.

— The Day's Doings, 7 Dec. 1872

The Supposed "Peckham Ghost."

On Friday, at Lambeth police-court, Joseph Munday, 43, a singular-looking man, was charged on remand with loitering in Bath-place, and also, by menaces and gestures, frightening Arthur Ridgeway, Matilda Eyres, and others, whereby they went in bodily fear. The prisoner was supposed to be the "ghost" who has frightened a number of persons, particularly children, in the neighbourhood. Part of his performance also was the throwing of peas at shutters and windows late at night, alarming the inmates of houses. On the evening of Thursday week a little girl named Eyres was passing along Cator-street, Peckham, and when near a dark spot the prisoner suddenly darted out, threw open his coat, and displayed a white slop underneath. He threw up his arms and uttered some strange sounds, which greatly alarmed the child. Arthur Ridgeway, a lad, shortly afterwards was passing along with a stone bottle containing beer, when the prisoner acted in a somewhat similar manner. The lad was very much startled, and dropped his vessel of beer, which he, however, recovered, and then made off. He had been frightened by him before. This witness believed the prisoner had on a curly wig. On the news spreading that the "Camberwell ghost" had been seen a number of lads collected, and ran down the prisoner, who bolted into a house, where he was taken into custody by a constable. It also appeared that the witness Eyres saw the prisoner throw peas at the shutters of a house. — Prisoner denied the charge, and said the peas found upon him he had bought to eat, and it would also be a caution to him in future not to wear a "white slop" and be taken for a ghost.

A man in court, who had been remanded, but had been discharged, said prisoner told him, when they were looked up together, that he had been in the country to get work. He had also written a letter to persons there, from whom he expected an answer that day, so as to prove the truth of his story.

Arthur Ridgway was then recalled, and said he was sure prisoner had a wig on when he saw him. Mr. Chance said that from the evidence of the children there was no doubt prisoner had frightened them. There was also strong confirmation in the fact that peas had been found in his pocket, and it looked very much as if he had used them in the way named. If there had been any other case against prisoner he should have felt it his duty to send him for trial at the sessions, to be dealt with as a common nuisance. As it was, however, the evidence was scarcely sufficient, and he should therefore call upon him to find sureties for his good behaviour. It was a most reprehensible practice of which prisoner had been charged. It might be a joke to silly people like himself to frighten children; but it might turn out a very serious matter. He should require him to find sureties in £10 for his good behaviour during the next six months.

— The Day's Doings, 14 December 1872.

[andydecker]

Great stuff. I am currently hearing some Sherlock Holmes again on Audiobooks, and this reads exactly like the newspaper items featured in those stories.

[dem bones]

Feb 6, 2024 11:27:02 GMT andydecker said:

Great stuff. I am currently hearing some Sherlock Holmes again on Audiobooks, and this reads exactly like the newspaper items featured in those stories.

Glad they're of interest.

A Headless Horseman at Metz

DURING a calm in the iron hail at Gravelotte, a fearful incident was witnessed by the German artillerymen stationed on a rising ground about the valley. A mounted Cuirassier of the French army had his head clean removed by a shot. The body, awfully rigid in death, continued sitting in an upright position, till the horse had carried its ghastly load far towards the rear.

— The Day's Doings, 3 September 1870

A Rare Chance

A FRENCH mother-in-law, less prudent than most of her kind in the selection of methods of annoyance, foolishly laid in wait for her daughter's husband in ghostly apparel, expecting by this clumsy expedient to give him a fright — as if a nervous system rendered callous to mother-in-law in the flesh would be likely to quail before a disembodied apparition. The shrewd fellow had the presence of mind to pretend that he didn't recognise her, and gave the supposed spectre a sound drubbing. Lucky dog! there are few sons-in-law to whom such a golden opportunity has ever offered itself.

— The Day's Doings, 5 October 1872

***

At the Wandsworth police-court Druscilla Skarratt, alias Mrs. Smith, a gipsy hawker, was brought up on a warrant, charged under the Vagrant Act, with pretending to tell fortunes.

Jane Davis, a young woman, said she was a domestic servant, and left her situation on Friday night last. She received £3 16s., which was all the money she possessed. She first saw the prisoner at her master's house, Sunnycroft, Old Farthing-lane, Wandsworth, in the afternoon before she left. Prisoner wanted to tell her fortune, and said she charged 6d. She began to tell, and stated that complainant was not going to stop at her situation, and was leaving through a man who came there.

Mr. Ingham: That was true; she found that out ? — Witness: Yes, sir. (Laughter.) She could not tell me more, and said she must have all the money I had got.

Mr. Ingham: To tell you about the man ? — Witness: Yes, sir. (Renewed laughter.) She took all my money and tied it up in her apron. She said she would come back at half-past five o'clock to tell my fortune. She did not come back, and I have not got a farthing of my own.

Detective-sergeant James said he apprehended the prisoner in a tent on some ground at the Waterside, Wandsworth, on Saturday night, when she denied having seen the complainant before. At the station she said, "If I have done it I shall have to suffer for it, and no one else. If she was fool enough to give it to me I was fool enough to take it. If there were no fools there would be no living." (Laughter.)

Mr. Ingham ordered the accused to be imprisoned for three months, with hard labour.

— The Day's Doings, 30 November 1872

A Live Dead Man.

A LITTLE more than thirty-three years ago there dwelt, in one of the rural districts of Georgia, an old codger by the name of Butt-Cutt Kaylor, who had formerly enjoyed the honours and emoluments pertaining to the office of Justice of the Peace, the duties of which he discharged with acknowledged ability and dignity; and so far as his neighbours were capable of judging, appeared to be a very honest man. He had, however, acquired the habit of "trumping up" accounts against the estates of those who were so unfortunate as to "shuffle off their mortal coils" within the bounds of his bailiwick. He had carried this practice on to such an extent as to arouse a suspicion in the minds of some of his meddlesome neighbours that there might be "something dead" somewhere in the "seat of his" — financial operations. Bob Crogan, who lived in the neighbourhood, and "run" the post-office at the cross-roads, being something of a wag, and having an idea that the Squire's honesty should be quoted below par, concluded, with the connivance and assistance of a few comrades, to "unearth the sly old fox," and expose his rascalities. Accordingly, Bob pretended to die, was regularly shrouded and laid on the cooling board in the most approved fashion, and sorrowing friends proceeded to spread the news of his demise, which soon reached the ears of old Butt-Cutt. He lost no time in repairing to the house of mourning, carrying with him a "full and complete assortment" of first-class condolence and sympathy, for gratuitous distribution among the members of the bereaved family and many sorrowing friends of the supposed deceased who were present when he arrived.

After he had relieved his heart of its burden of healing words, and had succeeded in a tolerable effort at crying, and was about to leave the scene, he tenderly spoke as follows:
"Ah, poor Bob; I'm sorry he died; he was good feller, and I allus liked him. When him and me went to the races at Augusta — now nigh on two years ago, I loaned him a hundred dollars to bet onto a bay mar, and he lost and as never paid me a cent of that money from that day to this. Poor fellow, he forgot it I reckon, but it's an honest debt; of course I can get it out of his estate, and —"

Butt-Cutt didn't finish the sentence, for just at this point Bob, the corpse, slowly raised up in his shroud and stretching out his arms towards the old rogue, as if to clutch him, yelled:
"You are an infernal old liar, and if — "

The din and roar drowned the rest. Butt-Cutt didn't wait to see or hear anything more, but with the hurried exclamination, "God-lemighty!" he shot through the door, hurried to his home, "packed his traps," and not only left the neighbourhood, but the state of Georgia, for ever.

— The Day's Doings, 30 November 1872.

A Ghost Runs Foul of a Sleep-walker

A PARTY of distinguished fishermen, numbering five in all, went up the river the other day to indulge in their favourite sport, and have a few days' holiday.

There was one in the party who was in with Morpheus, and he slept like a log until nearly daylight, when he was seen by his comrades to assume a sitting posture in the bed. In a few minutes he sprang to the floor, and began wandering about the room. His companions, not knowing that he was subject to somnambulistic excursions, thought he was trying to play a joke on them, and they watched every motion he made. He continued to stumble about the room, until the others concluded he was out of his head, and told him to go to bed, or they would throw him out of the house. But the sleep-walker said never a word, but kept right on feeling about the room. Finally he opened the door which led to the stairway, and went out.

The occupants of the beds then got up and wrapped the bed-clothes about them, and continued to watch the movements of their companion, who, after going down stairs, unbolted the door, and stepped out into the cold air in his night-shirt, and walked round the house to the pump, where he halted. He soon seized the pump handle, and began to work it up and down very rapidly until the water spattered on his bare feet, awakening him from his sleep, bewildered and half frozen.

Not knowing which way to turn, or where he was, he began to cry out for help, and one of his piscatorial friends, who had been watching him from the corner of the house, made his appearance with a white blanket wrapped about his towering form, and was mistaken by the sleep-walker for a real ghost.

With one wild look of horror he bolted across the country. The friend, firmly believing in insanity, went after him. The chase was short. The somnambulist attempted to climb a telegraph post, and was captured and returned to the house.

— The Day's Doings, 17 June 1871.

The Dead Alive

A MAN named James Hickey has very narrowly escaped being buried alive, the other day, in a country village. He had small-pox of a very bad type, and, becoming worse and worse, he finally, as his friends supposed, expired. The remains were not kept long, the friends being afraid of the disease. Arrangements were made for the funeral, and the coffin was placed in the hearse. On reaching the cemetery the attention of the driver of the hearse was attracted by a noise in the coffin, and he made it known to the pall-bearers. The coffin was taken out, and the lid was taken off, and Hickey immediately raised himself up terrified, as were all those around. He was taken home, and the last accounts report him recovering.

— The Day's Doings, 13 January 1872

[dem bones]

A "When Animals Attack" selection.

A Fearful Menagerie Horror.
A Brass Band Precipitated into the Lions' Cage

THE sensation caused in the public mind by the awful death of Mr. Carthy, the lion-tamer, has induced a correspondent to send us the story of an awful circus horror that occurred some time ago near Cincinnati.

The narrative is accompanied by a drawing, which we have engraved.

The deplorable accident occurred to the brass band employed by James Robinson & Co.'s menagerie and circus, the leader being Professor Sexton.

Upon starting out from Cincinnati, the management determined to produce something novel in the way of a band chariot, and conceived the idea of mounting the band upon the colossal den of performing Namibian lions, and which would form one of the principal and most imposing features of the show.

Although repeatedly warned by Professor Sexton that he deemed the cage insecure and dangerous in the extreme, the managers still persisted in compelling the band to ride upon it. The band took their places, and the procession commenced to move through the village of Middletown, amid the shouts of the multitude of rustics who had assembled to witness the grand pageant, and hear the enlivening strains of music.

As the driver endeavoured to make a turn in the streets, the leaders became entangled, and threw the entire team into confusion, and he lost control of them, and becoming frightened they broke into a violent run. Upon the opposite side of the street the fore wheel of the cage came in contact with a large rock with such force as to cause the braces and stanchions which supported the roof to give way, thereby precipitating the entire band into the awful pit below.

For an instant the vast crowd were paralyzed with fear, but for a moment only, and then arose such a shriek of agony as has been scarcely heard before. The awful groans of terror and agony which arose from the poor victims who were being torn and lacerated by the frightful monsters below was heart rending and sickening to a terrible degree.

Every moment some of the band would extricate themselves from the debris and leap over the sides of the cage to the ground with a wild spring of fear, and faint away upon striking the earth, so great was their terror. But human nature could not stand there and see men literally devoured before their very eyes, for there were willing hearts and strong arms ready to render every assistance necessary to rescue the unfortunate victims of this shocking calamity. A hardware store which happened to stand opposite was invaded by the re quest of the proprietor, and pitchforks, crowbars, and long bars of iron, and, in fact, every available weapon was brought into requisition, the side doors of the cage were quickly torn from their fastenings, and then a horrible sight was presented to view. Mingled among the brilliant uniform of the poor unfortunates, lay legs and arms torn from their sockets and half devoured, while the savage brutes glared ferociously with their sickly green colour of eyes upon the petrified crowd.

One of the proprietors arriving at this moment, gave orders in regard to extricating the dead and wounded, he well knowing it would be a difficult and dangerous undertaking to remove them from the infuriated monsters.

Stationing men with forks and bars at every available point, he sprang fearlessly into the den amid the savage monsters, and commenced raising the wounded, and passing them upon the outside to their friends. He had succeeded in removing the wounded, and was proceeding to gather up the remains of the lifeless, when the mammoth lion, known to showmen as old Nero, sprang with a frightful roar upon his keeper, fastening his teeth and claws in his neck and shoulders, lacerating him in a horrible manner. The tamer made three Herculean efforts to shake the monster off, but without avail, and then gave orders to fire upon him.

The contents of four pistols were immediately poured into the carcase of the ferocious animal, and he fell dead; and the brave fellow, notwithstanding the fearful manner in which he was wounded, never left the cage until every vestige of the dead were carefully gathered together and placed upon a sheet, preparatory to burial.

It was found that three of the ten who mounted the cage a short time before were killed outright, and four others terribly lacerated.

It was a melancholy day for Middletown, and a sadder day for the friends and companions of the deceased.

Of all that vast number who started out in the morning with anticipations of a glad holiday, few left for their homes with dry eyes after the triple funeral; for the entire community followed the remains to the quiet little village cemetery. At midnight the carcase of the slain beast was quietly buried on the lot where was intended to be given the exhibition, but which was never accomplished.

— The Day's Doings, 13 October 1872

Furious Attack Upon a Cripple by a Mad Dog

A LAMENTABLE incident has taken place in Scotland. A poor bed-ridden cripple was startled by a furious barking round the house where he was lying. Suddenly a dog burst into the room, and, barking wildly, flew at the aged man. Defending himself as best he could with his crutch, the poor cripple was fast losing his strength, when some neighbours burst into the room, drove off the dog, and killed it, as there was no doubt the animal was mad.

It was some days before the poor old man recovered from the shock his nerves had sustained.

— The Day's Doings, 13 August 1870

***

A MAN has been bitten to death by his own horse, near Waterford. Twenty minutes after he had left his own house he was found quite dead, lying in a pool of blood, and fearfully mangled. The horse was grazing quietly near deceased.

— The Day's Doings, 13 August 1870

A Rat Pit in Liverpool

No one will probably be shocked to learn that 200 rats were killed in Liverpool in one day, says the Mercury of that town. The rat is not by any means an amiable quadruped. He is the dread of the householder, the pest of the farmer, and a nuisance to the sailor. The best that the natural history book anecdotes can say about him is that sometimes he has relieved the loneliness of dark dungeons in which prisoners were immured for life. But, altogether, the rat has got a bad character, and perhaps deserves it. Therefore, the fate of the 200 rats whose slaughter we record will in itself excite no sympathy. Yet the manner of their death was not pleasant for any man with much humanity in him to witness; despite which, there is the fact that the butchery was witnessed, and witnessed with evident pleasure, by some 300 or 400 men, some of whom elsewhere might have been taken for humane men, and others of whom carried in their faces unmistakable evidences of a brutal disposition.

— The Day's Doings, 3 September 1870


A Boy Killed by an Elephant at Hanley

A BOY has been killed at Hanley by, incautiously perhaps, insulting an elephant. It seems a menagerie was passing through the town the other day, and among the animals was an elephant, which was taken to an inn stable. A number of children gathered in the inn-yard, and amused themselves by giving the elephant nuts and other things. Some of them are said to have given it stones, at which the animal was so irritated that he seized the deceased child with his trunk, and raised him to his mouth; a keeper, seeing what was occurring, called out, and the animal dropped the child. He was picked up and at once taken to a doctor, and although every effort was made to restore him, he died from wounds in the head and severe internal injuries.

— The Day's Doings, 27 April 1872

[dem bones]

Murder, torture etc.

A Gang of Robbers Poisoned

A BRAVE woman, living in Nebraska, has just done the State some service by ridding it of a gang of desperadoes, by which it has been infested. It seems that one night, during her husband's absence from home, she was aroused by a violent knocking at the door and at once opened it. Three men, masked and armed, entered, and having commanded her to prepare supper, set about ransacking the premises. Profiting by their being engaged in this pleasing occupation, she contrived to slip a quantity of poison into a demi-john of whisky, and, in a short time, had the satisfaction of seeing them all three writhing in a helpless state of torture upon the floor.

She at once darted off to the nearest village, some three miles away, roused the inhabitants, and returned with some of them to find two of the sufferers dead, and the third just about to give up the ghost. All three were identified as notorious desperadoes who had long been a terror to the locality.

— The Day's Doings, 26 October 1872

THE New York Herald of the 7th inst. reports a terrible tragedy from Boston. A large barrel had been discovered floating in Charles River, and it was found to contain a human head and two legs. The head was bald, and, from its appearance, the victim appeared to be about fifty years old. The blood that was still dripping from these remnants of the body proved that the butchery had taken place within a very few hours of the time of the discovery. Shortly afterwards a second barrel was seen in the stream, and this on being brought to shore was found to contain the rest of the body. Indications were apparent that decapitation and amputation had been performed with a sharp knife, for when the remains were placed together they fitted perfectly. None of the clothing was missing except the hat, and beyond a flesh wound on the face of the dead man, there was nothing to indicate a struggle. Upon the back, between the outside and under shirt, there was a gold chain that had been secreted there. The clothing was of the best quality. No clue to the identity of the man had been obtained.

— The Day's Doings, 23 November 1872

IN the little town of Minnelinsk, in Russia, there lived a miller with his family. A few weeks ago three Tartars surprised the miller, his wife, and a young girl whilst they were asleep. The malefactors, after binding them, subjected the miller and his wife to the most cruel tortures until they told them the place where the money and other valuables were. The monsters then killed the poor miller and his wife with their axes, sparing the young girl, who had to witness the fearful scene. After they had packed the goods the murderers sat down to prepare tea in a Russian self-boiling tea-kettle (called samovar), and whilst doing so one of the ruffians, feeling annoyed by the lamentations of the poor girl, poured seething hot water over her. Meanwhile the son, a sturdy young peasant, returned home from the neighbouring village, and whilst crossing the garden stumbled against the corpses of his parents, which had been thrown out by the assassins, and perceiving them through the window, he at once resolved to avenge the monstrous deed. He therefore went to fetch a crowbar from the shed next to the mill, and, thus armed, stood before the door waiting for the malefactors to come out. The darkness of the night favoured his undertaking. Two of the murderers were killed outright by one vigorous blow. The third Tartar tried to resist, but the miller's son stunned and then killed him. The recovery of the poor little girl is despaired of.

— The Day's Doings, 23 November 1872

Corporal Shlague, or the New Way of the Knout

"Germany is fighting the cause of European liberty and progress."- P. A. TAYLOR, M.P. for Leicester.

It will scarcely be believed, but we have received a letter from a Captain in the French army, who signs himself "De Bre la," who certifies that Count de Bredow, a Prussian major commanding at Rheims, lately inflicted the punishment of the schlague upon thirty-eight French citizens. This punishment he thus describes :-"The victim was brought into a room in the Hotel de Ville, stripped naked by soldiers, and strapped down upon a table. Then twenty-five blows of the schlague were inflicted upon his back, and when release he was kicked out by the soldiery. You must have heard, as I have heard, the screams of these unfortunates, and seen, as I have seen, the great surface of scarified purple flesh on their backs, to form an idea of the extent of the cruelty practised upon them. I raise up my voice to Heaven for justice and vengeance, and above all do not forget to gibbet the name of Count de Bredow."

— The Day's Doings, 28 Jan. 1871

A Hideous Meal

Famished French Women Feeding off a Dead Horse near Belfort

HERR VON WICKEDE, that pleasant Teuton chronicler of the doings of his countrymen, narrates horrors piled upon ghastly horrors on the road from Belfort to Pontarlier; and amongst them, seeing a "bevy of famished women throw themselves upon a dead horse like a pack of wolves, and, tearing it with all sorts of instruments, swallow morsels quite raw." He also mentions cannibalism, but does not vouch for that. But he concludes as follows:-"This is the eighth campaign I have been through, but neither in Algeria, nor in Italy, nor in Bohemia, not even in Schleswig, have I seen sights so horrible." This "not even in Schleswig" is wonderfully suggestive. We are carried back to the fierce denunciations in The Times of that period of the cruelties practised upon the Holsteiners, Danes, and Jutlanders, by the very people whom that journal has covered with laudation, and encouraged, aided, and abetted throughout this last most unhappy war.

— The Day's Doings, 4 March 1871

Execution of a Chinese Murderer

WE have already had occasion to mention that the murderer of the Viceroy Ma was executed a short time ago at Nankin, China, by being "cut into ten thousand pieces," which means being cut to pieces gradually until he died. He bore this as stoically as he had supported the horrible tortures. We now give an illustration which represents one of the tortures he was subjected to in the course of the judicial investigation.

The assassin declared his enmity against Ma to have been caused by his rejection of a petition for justice against a man who had carried off his wife and some money. He had got his wife back, but not the money, and when he appealed to Ma for help, the latter refused to entertain his request. An Englishman has also been executed in China; but in his case the punishment was in the orthodox English fashion. We read that the murderer's name was Williams, and the execution took place at Shanghai. The spectators were limited to those officially called on to be present. The scaffold had been erected by a Chinese carpenter, in the vacant ground within the outer wall on the west side of the prison. To this spot prisoner walked calmly, accompanied by his spiritual adviser, and took his place on the scaffold. When various arrangements were completed, he shortly addressed those present, acknowledging the justice of his sentence, and asking them to forgive him as he hoped God had forgiven him. He then prayed aloud with wonderful calmness and propriety. When he had finished he turned to the executioner and said, "I am ready." The final arrangements were then made, and when at length the bolt was drawn, death must have been all but instantaneous. In due time the statutory medical inspection was made, and the body has since been buried within the precincts of the prison.

— The Day's Doings, 16 Sept. 1871

The Heathen Chinee

THE trial of Ah Cha, Lee Jung, Wang Kung, Ab Yoke, and Ah Ohn, charged with cruelty, torturing and burning a Chinese woman, at San Bernadino, California, closed by the jury returning a verdict of guilty, as to four of the party, of assault to do great bodily harm, and not guilty as to Ah Ohn.

The four found guilty, by their counsel, moved the court for a new trial, and also a motion in arrest of judgment, both of which were overruled by the Court, after which they were sentenced respectively to two years in the State Prison, or to pay a fine of five hundred dollars each, and two weeks were given them in which to pay the fine.

The most important witness examined in court was a young man, named Georg Wilshire, from the fact of his being the only witness to the whipping and burning of the woman. Other testimony, however, went to corroborate the evidence of this witness. We merely give in substance his testimony in the case, to wit:

Started to town between twelve and one o'clock p.m.; met Chinamen just this side of Mr. Margetson's; four men and one woman; identifies the men; one was leading her, and one behind holding her hair and punching her! the woman was barefooted; saw her tracks through water and swamp, all the way down; got back home about two o'clock; heard an awful noise; heard blows of sticks, ballooing and talking; from first position saw them all whipping her; her bands tied behind her; tied up to the walnut tree so she could just touch her toes to the ground; the men whipping her were the same four met with, the other he took to be Scald Neck (Ah Ohn); know the men well; and Scald Neck (Ah Ohn) as well as any; they were all engaged in whipping her; one got up in the tree and tied the rope, and whipped her a quarter of an hour after he got there; while whipping her they lit a match and some paper, applied fire to the woman about her breast; after whipping and burning they took her down and untied her and put on her dress; could hear her breathe; could tell her voice as she talked; it seemed hard for her to talk; after talking quite a while, they started off like they were going to leave her; she acted like she wanted one of the men to lead her; she was crying; could hardly walk; she caught hold of one of the men. The men then tied her up by the hair of her head, and began to burn her with lighted sticks, also lighting a fire under her. After they had burned her awhile, they put more sticks on the fire, then returned; she kicked and twisted around, pulling on her hair; could see the limb move when she jerked; was looking at them one and a half or two hours; they untied her before he left; she was sitting down, leaning back; never tried to walk; the fire still blazed when he left, and the men were sitting around, talking and laughing.

— The Day's Doings, 31 August. 1872

[dem bones]

Narrow escapes;

A Spanish Lady saved by an Umbrella during a Republican Insurrection in Bannia

THE parasol and umbrella, prosaic as they appear in their daily attributes, have each their romantic and legendary annals. We have just heard of an umbrella adventure which has taken place in Bannia, in the province of Grenada, in Spain. During a Republican insurrection which broke out in that district a few days ago, an attack was made by some ruffianly bandits on the house of the Marquis de la S —, who was absent at the time attending the funeral of Prim, and welcoming the new Sovereign of Spain, in Madrid. His daughter, the widowed Countess F— alone with the servants in the château. At the first onset, she and the few servants in the house barricaded the doors and windows; but, after being driven from room to room by the ruffians, the poor young Countess at last took refuge in a small closet which had been for years used as a lumber-room; but she was soon tracked to her hiding place amid the brutal threats and still more frightful jests of the assailants.

In her despair she looked around for some weapon of defence, which would enable her to keep off the attack until she could reach the window, resolving at once to perish rather than fall into the hands of that lawless band of ruffians. Her eye fell upon an old cast-off umbrella. She seized it in triumph, and rushed to the window just as the fiercest of her pursuers had succeeded in forcing the frail barrier at the door. In an instant the Countess sprang upon the sill of the open window, and disappeared through the casement. A cry of horror burst from the group of brigands as they rushed forward to the window, fully expecting to see the form of the fair Countess dashed to pieces on the pavement of the courtyard. But the umbrella, which she still held in a firm grasp, had saved her from death and dishonour. It had opened in her descent, and, catching the breeze as she fell, was bearing her gently to the ground, where she alighted unharmed, and, reaching the gate before her pursuers had even thought of descending the stairs, found refuge at the cottage of one of the peasants of the estate.

— The Day's Doings, 14 January 1871

An Incident of the Bombardment of Paris
A Sister of Mercy Leaps from an Hospital Window.

THE bombardment of Paris continues. Almost the first victim of "Prussian barbarity," as the besieged term it, has been a Sister of Mercy, attending an hospital on the left bank of the Seine. The poor girl was attending the wounded in an upper story of the temporary hospital, but as the building was surrounded by higher houses, it was believed pretty secure. The death-dealing bomb, however, passed over the roof of the neighbouring habitations and fell on the ill-starred hospital entering the top room, where the wounded were lying in fancied security.

Several of the patients were killed instantaneously and many seriously hurt. The poor affrighted Sister of Mercy rushed to the window and jumped out a height of from thirty to forty feet. She suffered severe injuries, a portion of her left side and one of her arms having become paralyzed; but no bones broken.

— The Day's Doings, 21 January 1871

Extraordinary Escape from Hydrophobia in Saratoga

WE this week represent an exciting incident lately enacted at this fashionable watering-place. A young lady staying at the Hotel Marienbourg, her dinner toilet nearly completed, and attended by her maid, was startled by an outcry in the street; and in an instant, before either her maid or herself could prevent his entrance, a gigantic and rabid dog burst through the casement. Inflicting a flesh wound on the lady's arm, the animal, in his feverish hunt, dashed through the neighbouring boudoir; and, smashing the glass walls of the conservatory he gained the open country, where, after some days, in the shaft of a disused well, his body was discovered. In the meantime, the lady, with a presence of mind so seldom met with, and remembering an incident in the works of a lamented novelist, instructed her maid to procure an Italian iron for the assumed purpose of ironing the lace-work of her dress. When the iron was produced, she coolly withdrew the red-hot metal heater, and with firmness burnt out the flesh both in and about the wound. Having then bandaged her arm, and substituted a high dress for the low evening dress she was previously wearing, she took her accustomed place at the table d'hôte, and threw herself with unusual energy into the conversation of the evening. Next morning her over-taxed nerves gave way; but up to the present time there have been no more serious results than the effects of a slight fever, which the medical men in consultation believe would have developed themselves into a fatal case of mania with a patient who had not so promptly taken the case into her own hands, and by her wonderful fortitude kept her mind in a state of active excitement, so as, in a great measure, to counteract the bodily injury.

— The Day's Doings, 6 August 1870.

A Race on a Railway

A Drive for Life.

AN extraordinary circumstance has lately occurred on the line of railway between Thirsk and Malton.

Just as the train left Pillmoor Junction, a woman, driving a horse and cart, was seen crossing the line. The animal set off between the rails and galloped for several miles. The driver of the train could not get on, and had to pull up twice. Eventually the horse was got rid of at a gate-house crossing. We give an illustration of what was, in reality, to the Yorkshire woman, a drive for life.

— The Day's Doings, 4 March 1871

Singular and Startling Incident near Manchester

An extraordinary incident has taken place on the Manchester, South Junction, and Altrincham Railway. The other afternoon a carriage with two horses was standing in the grounds of Mr. Sedgley, of Homefield, between Brooklands and Sale, when the animals were startled, and set off at a rapid pace towards the railway. They leaped a high hedge separating the line from the turnpike road, which is nearly on the same level, dragging the carriage after them. On reaching the line they swerved round in the direction of Manchester, and continued their journey, dashing through Sale station at a furious rate, and to the consternation of a number of persons awaiting the arrival of trains from opposite points. The officials at Stretford were communicated with by telegraph, and the animals were stopped just before rushing a train brought up in that station. The most singular part of the story is that neither the carriage nor the animals were injured, and a little boy who got into the vehicle just before the horses started also made the perilous journey unharmed.

— The Day's Doings, 29 July 1871

Saved From A Quicksand Near Yarmouth

WE have to record yet another bathing accident, attended by a gallant and successful rescue.

A young lady, at a watering-place on the east coast, an adept in the art of swimming, tempted by the late mildness of the weather, has been in the habit of swimming away from her companions, a merry, motley, oriental-looking crew, diving, splashing, swimming, and floating—in every coloured costume. All at once there arose a murmur, then a shriek, a universal cry of terror. The girl was over some well-known, fatal quicksands. A young gentleman, standing on the beach, realised the danger, and, with swift, steady strokes, he dashed towards her. The waters parted right and left before the nervous energy of his sinewy arm. It was a great test of strength for both. The girl was well-nigh exhausted when he reached her; she would never have had strength to stem the rapid current that set in against the cliff, that hemmed in on one side the dangerous quicksands. Her preserver, however, held her tightly, buffeting the waves with one hand, as he moved quickly from the deadly spot. He reached the shore, and sank exhausted by her side.

The gallant rescue was witnessed by an excited crowd on the beach.

— The Day's Doings, 8 October 1870

[andydecker]

Feb 10, 2024 14:12:21 GMT dem bones said:

Narrow escapes;

A Spanish Lady saved by an Umbrella during a Republican Insurrection in Bannia

No, I don't believe it for a minute.

[jamesdoig]

Feb 10, 2024 15:25:34 GMT andydecker said:

Feb 10, 2024 14:12:21 GMT dem bones said:

Narrow escapes;

These are brilliant! A couple more for Animals Attack, from Victorian penny dreadfuls:

[dem bones]

Thanks James - particularly like the sea serpent.

Today's selection; hooligans.

A Row on the Knife-board of a Hampstead Omnibus

ALFRED BEW, riding on the knife-board of an Adelaide omnibus last week, made use of disgusting language, and otherwise misconducted himself. The driver requested him to desist, as he could not hear his conductor. Alfred abused the driver, swore he would smash his hat over his eyes, and kept shouting in the ear of a respectable solicitor, one Edwin Greenfield, who was sitting on the box-seat. Mr. Greenfield turned round to expostulate, when Bew seized him by the collar of his coat, gave him a good shaking, and struck him a violent blow on the nose. A free fight then took place on the knife-board, which was ended by the arrival of a policeman. The magistrate thought it was a gross outrage; and, although Richard said he had been to a cricket match and had taken too much, he was fined 50s., and 12s. cost, or fourteen days hard labour.

— The Day's Doings, 3 September 1870

It is scarcely possible to conceive a more distressing sight to an average Englishman, desirous of pointing out the beauties of his capital to an intelligent foreigner, than the present ghastly and abominable spectacle of Leicester-square. We return from beautiful cities, from neatly-arranged gardens, from towns of palaces, and from something like system, to a scene of filth and disorder in the centre of our capital unheard of in any other city in Europe. The dreary and stupid jest is surely played out. We have had enough of the rowdy tomfoolery which makes Leicester-square an eye-sore to the West End and an insult to sensible citizens. Whether rightly or wrongly, the majority of our foreign visitors flock to this distressing centre, and take away from it an impression which we are not willing to convey. Let not the public imagine that foreigners do not travel. Ask the steamboat companies, and learn for certain that, in nearly the same proportion that holiday-makers of England go abroad, the holiday makers of France, Belgium, Germany, and Holland come to see and to study England. What do they see from their windows in Leicester-square hotels? A space given over to rowdyism, ruffianism, and blasphemy; trampled upon by foul feet, the grass obliterated, the arena taken possession of by the lowest of wandering jugglers; the statue is daubed over with ridiculous polychrome, and is used as a sign-post to guide the youth of London to the most depraved and abominable exhibition it possesses. House property around is being ruined in consequence of this disgraceful state of affairs. The very neighbourhood itself is becoming pestilential, owing to the abominable orgies in the deserted square. Carry on the stupid jest much farther, and it will be necessary for ladies and all respectable people to avoid the neighbourhood as they would a dead. house. Will no one speak? The Government, prompt to act on other occasions, is torpid and stupid; the cry of the householders has been beaten down, and the Press take up Leicester-square with the same hopeless energy as is devoted to the abolition of quacks or the extreme weakness of the unpaid Magistracy. Is speaking to be never followed by acting? Is our much-vaunted liberality to land us in the quagmire of ridicule ? At the present moment Leicester-square, with its forlorn and dirty tone, and its preachers and acrobats, with its absurdly painted statue, and its insulting direction to the lowest life, is not only a temporary disaster, but a positive national disgrace. We all hate it; but we are not allowed to raise a finger to save the insults which Leicester-square affords.

— The Day's Doings, 31 August 1872

Outrage on the Great Eastern Railway

OUTRAGES on females in railway carriages are becoming so terribly common that every effort to repress an assault of the kind deserves to be placed upon record. In a third-class carriage on the Great Eastern Railway, on a recent night, a ruffian assaulted a young woman, and in the course of a violent struggle endeavoured to throw her out of the carriage. A railway policeman in another carriage of the train heard cries, and saw a door banging to and fro. With great pluck, Constable 31 clambered along the foot-board to the carriage in which the young woman was contending with her assailant, and just succeeded in preventing the man from pushing her out at the open doorway. The consequence of such a fall must have been fatal, as the train was going at great speed. The young woman, from motives of mistaken modesty, we presume, did not prosecute, and the magistrate only fined the scoundrel, who was within an ace of committing murder, 20s. A more inadequate punishment it is difficult to imagine. Meanwhile, the railway policeman deserves a marked recognition of his opportune and courageous assistance.

— The Day's Doings, 6 August 1870.

Outrages on the River Thames.
A Man Shot, and a Woman Pushed into the River.

ABOUT half-past two o'clock the other morning a police-constable on duty on the Thames Embankment heard the report of a pistol-shot, and upon proceeding towards Westminster bridge to the spot from whence the report came he found a respectably-dressed man of about thirty years of age, lying upon his back on the pavement. Blood was flowing from the left side of his chest, and on the ground near his right hand lay a recently-discharged pistol. Assistance was instantly procured, and the man was carried to the Westminster Hospital, when the surgeons discovered that a bullet had passed through his body, and that his lungs were wounded. His injuries are of so serious a character that there is no chance of his recovery. He has been identified as being a shopkeeper named Thomas Jones, living at 20, Chapter-street, Westminster. He has recently been very much depressed through losses in business.

We also hear that at a late hour the other night a woman, dressed in a waterproof plaid woollen shawl, brown calico dress, woollen socks, and lace boots, was thrown into the river near Greenwich by some unknown ruffians, who succeeded in making their escape: it was found that the woman, owing to the high tide, had floated upon some timber, and her cries of distress could be plainly heard. When recovered she was quite exhausted and unconscious. It is impossible to learn her name or residence; no doubt we shall hear more of this occurrence.

— The Day's Doings, 5 October 1872

A Young Lady Mobbed while Skating on the Serpentine

WE have to record an incident that came under the eye of our artist while visiting Hyde Park during the late frost.

A young lady, a foreign visitor to our shores, while skating on the Serpentine, had the misfortune to fall, and, in so doing, her dress was torn. Some noble specimens of the British "Roughs" at once took advantage of her mishap, and not only grossly insulted her, but actually proceeded to hustle her about, and succeeded in almost entirely destroying her dress, which had only previously been torn.

The girl, who was unprotected at the time, was only rescued by the bystanders when she had but little of her outer clothing left. She was so much disfigured and frightened that it was found necessary to remove her to her residence in a cab.

A policeman arrived on the ice shortly after she had gone home.

— The Day's Doings, 21 January 1871

The Islington Vigilance Committee

IT is an old saying "Tread on a worm and he will turn again," but is a very true one and has just received a curious illustration in Islington. For some time past Sunday has been anything but a day of rest to the orderly dwellers in that district; swarms of young roughs have congregated in the thoroughfares and insulted every respectable person, man or woman, who might happen to pass by.

The police have in vain attempted to put down the nuisance by arresting some of the prominent offenders. A "suitable admonition," or a nominal fine, was considered by the worthy magistrates quite sufficient punishment for the ruffians who rolled elderly ladies into the gutter and otherwise disported themselves with the gaiety of "dolphins, in a tropic sea." Indeed, sometimes the police got into trouble for interfering with these amusements of the lower classes; until at last the inhabitants of Islington, driven to desperation, determined to take the law into their own hands.

They have therefore formed a Vigilance Committee, whose intention it is to administer summary justice in every case where the offenders are caught in the art of annoying street passengers.

On Sunday evening about twenty members of the committee, armed with stout canes sallied forth on their noble mission to Upper-street, Islington; and, to the surprise of the roughs, each insult to any passer-by was avenged by a severe thwack with a cane. The police, it is stated, were delighted with this new state of things; and in about two hours the roughs, finding that they were no longer in the hands of worthy magistrates, but face to face with a determined body of men who would stand no nonsense, left the street in disgust.

The news of this admirable movement spread from one gang to another; and, for the first time for many a Sunday, people returning from their respective places of worship were able to reach their homes unmolested. It is to be hoped that the Vigilance Committee will continue the good work they have begun, and that their example will be followed in many other districts which are on Sundays under a reign of terror.

The magistrates, of course, will be terribly disgusted; but even if one of the members of these Vigilance Committees is charged with assaulting a rough who has just assaulted a lady, it will be a glorious opportunity for "suitably admonishing" his worship by pointing out that his work is taken out of his hands simply because he has failed to perform it, and that it is not until life becomes almost unbearable, owing to the tenderness shown to ruffians, that London adopts Lynch law.

***

THE practice of fining aldermen and others in the City 40s. when they overeat themselves might with advantage be revived, and might be a great assistance to the funds for the relief of the sick and wounded, or by sending it to the unhappy peasants in Alsace and Lorraine.

— The Day's Doings, 12 November 1870