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â- â- mtHMiiVMiMIHHHP A Fairy Omnibus. I think «T«rybo<ly (reU % touch of romance aome time in hia life. The yreen glade of olden days is probably replaced by a busy street, your arm- or-clad knigrbt by a city man in a frock coat and silk bal, your distrefiaed dam- ael !a a practical, level-beaded, ener- getic little typewriter, jwrhape. The â- otors are changed, but, believe me the element of romance is just the same «s it was in the days of chivalry. Now I dare say you would not believe that » bald-headed, middle-aged, stout old solicitor like me â€" getting every day more engrossed in business, and more and more apt to be a trifle crusty In my temper, owing to a tiresome liverâ€" waa ever sufficiently "interesting" to play the part of a modern knight er- rant. Let me tell you all about it, and how it ended. It's commonplace enough, I know, and I dare say most of you Ivnve gone through something •imilar, but if it does nothing else it may perha{)s serve to stir up pleasant memories. I had nearly completed my articles, and was reading hard for my "final," when one morning the firm told me to go to a, client who was ill and take instructitHia for ber will. She waa an old maiden lady living ia Paddingtoo, and our people liad transacted all ber business for ber for â- omething like forty yeara It was la wet dayâ€" one of thcee days that we get tiom time to time in London, when 70U feel aa if you wvuld like to go to bed and not, get up again until things have changed. Holborn was like a lit- tle river, and tlie traffic slopped and â- plashed aiong in a way that made you feel damp even to watob. I stood on the curbstone waiting for a chance to cross without being smothered with mud, when X noticed a girl standing near me. She, too, was trying to cross. It was very funny to see her. She ^»as eridently from tbe country, and didn't at all underntand the London traffic. Three timea she started, and three times sbo turned back in despair. I watched her with interest. There was aa amusing expression of good tem- pered misery on her face. She was pret- tyâ€"very prettyâ€" and daintily dressed, andâ€" well, I seized my opportunity like *n articled clerk who is worth his salt is bound to do. "Eiouse me," I said, raising my bat, "but I think yott wajit to croos tbe road." She looked rather sUrtled, "I think I ahaJI got on all right," â- he answered "if you would kindly tell me wben to start." "Suppose we try togetberf Give Ise jour arm." She did not give me her arm. I took it, and we started on our pilgrimage. In and out the cabs and omnibuses 1 guided her safely until we got to about the middle of tbe road, wuich, as you know, is very wide opposite KurnivaJa Inn. Suddenly she lim.ped and nave a funny little hop. "vlVâ„¢,,''*'^, *"'â- 'â- '•" •^ â- *'<^ laughing, Witâ€" 1 m afraid my shoe Los come olf. M stuck in tbe mud. I looked around. Sure enough, a few yards beihind us waaa shoe lying in the mud, looking very lonely and get- ting horribly wet. "Can you stand heire for a moment," I said, "while I fetch itf" I left her there, standing on one foot, with the tip of a little stockinged toa just touching the ground to steady ber. A cab driver who happened to pass found the situation amusing and said so candidly, but I'm proud lo say that I manag.il to keep a grave face. The shoe was such a small one that I mar- veled how a human being could over fet It on, much less get it off again. .t last we were ready to start again. "It waa very kind of you not to Ja.ugh at me," she said, with a little blush. "I must have lookml very sil- IjTj^ standing there on one foot." 'You lookoxl very charming," I said, with a young man's bluntness. I land- ed her safely on the path, and she thanked me. 1 asked bor if I could Iw of any further service. She thought not. She only wanted to get into a Paddingtou auM, and then she would lie i|uito safe. Now, 1 wantM a Pttddington Iws, but I didn't say sa As soon as one came up 1 stopped it, put her insidi! and went on top myself. IVrhajis you will think me quixotic for going outside in such miserable weather. Well, I Ix-lieve you woiuJd have done the Home thing of- t«?r ttJl. You see, I was afraid she might think I was iieslering lier it I follow- ed her inside, ft looked rather like taking advantage of a trifling service, and 1. was ot that ago when a man would rather have rheumulic fever than sacrifice tbe good opinion of u pretty girl_ Things are different nowâ€" I'm a married man. nut, bless your heart, y<iu can't escaiie .lestiny by gutting outside an omnil/us. I luidn't l)oen up there three minutes, the rain had only just commenced to soak through the knees of my trou.sers and Iricklo down my legs, when the conductor ciiaua up with a significant grin on his face. "If yom please sir," he said, "there's a young lady insido wants to 8i>eak to you.'' I climlied down the ladder with which buses in those days were furnished. _ There she sat in the corner, half smil- ing, half bliL^hing. There was nobody else inside. "Won't ymi gelt wet if you go out- aidef" she said "1 WHS afraid you might think I was a nuisance," 1 aqswered. "I guessed as much," she said frank- ly. "But it would 1m» a very poor re- turn fi)r your kindness if I drove you into consumipil i«n.^' I think that upon the whole that wa.i the most delightful bus drive in my experionce. The conversation flowed iit A torrent, and I Itelievo we exchanged •a many coijfidcinoea and opinions in i>a.If an hour as some ix-iiple do in n lUf»l.i{n^.. It Wfis wj)nderf;i«l It was like! ttnicliing by accidi'nt llin hidden spring .^.aome secret door wjyah i)i)«»hed into â- ' f-rg'-'Wnv '«moHpbi'r«»,''-«'TiftW 'Tftiryland. We wa/e more like-<old friends thin' chance acquaintanoes, and it seemed as if neither could tell thtt other toojmuch. Points of agr<«(nent and d'isagreoment were noted eagerly. We had read the same books, visited the same places, and wherever we trtrned there waa new ground of syvupathy. Sh« had only been in London a wet'Jt and had not visited any place of ajnuaement. I wonder»d if I could find a chanoe here of pushing my advant- age and ai)proacihed the suliject with delicacy anil caution. But at this point it seemed that the mutual confidence stopped, for she declined to understand my tactics and remarked that her tima was too fully occupied to go about much. Only too soon we reached the place where I bad decided to alight. We shook hands wiu*mly and thanked each other rather vaguely and nerv- ously, and then I found myaeJf once more on a nasty, wet London nave- ment. I had had a glimpse of fairy- land, but it was only a glimpse. I was back again in tbe practical, uncomfort- able world, with a, living to be earn- ed and a wiU to make. The gates of fairyland were closed, for, like a don- key, I bad omitted to find out tbe fairy's name and where she lived. lit seemed impossible to bring one's mind back to the legal subtleties of will mak- ing, but it had to be done, and I trudg- ed heavily on my wa.y to our client's bouse, finding, to my infinite disgust, that I bad got out of the omnilnus much sooner than I need have done. Imagine my surprise when, on reach- ing the house and being shown into the dining room, I found there the hero- ine of the lost shoe. That settled it. I felt that heaven had decided I was to marry that young lady, and I form- ed the pious intention then and there of giving heaven every possible assist- ance and made such a beautiful hash of her aunt's will that it required some six or seven visits to put matters straight. Curiously enough, though, from the moment we melt in the boxisa ber friendliness ceased. Kvery time 1 came she was mure cold uud distant, and I was almost in despair. The con- versation which had flowed so merrily iu an uncomfortable omnibus seemed impossible over the dining room fire, and she refxiaed to go beyond the most common-jilaoe cLvilitiea. She calmly ig- nored that drive, which 1 bad found so delightful, and treated me with or- dinary politeness due to the representa- tive of her aunt's solicitors. The position grew desperate, because I couldn't continue to make blunders over tbe old lady's will forever. Al- ready the firm had reprimanded me for stupidity, though, to be sure, tbe old lady herself bore with me with won- derful patience and good temper. The crisis came. It was my last visit about tbe wiJI, which was now ready â€" atjso- lutely correct â€" and tbe dear old crea- ture bad approved of every word of il. Ct only required to be executed She said she wculd like her niece and me to be the witnesses, and as she was much better and able to get up we as- sembled solemnly in the library. But she was a funny old character and scouted tbe idea of solemnity, ringing the bell for the servant to bring up some champagne, so that we might drink "succe.ss to her will." I'm thank- ful to say that, though L was by this time hopelessly in love with the niece, I had sufficient presenis of mind to say, "Success to the will, and may it never have to be provedl" which pleas- ed ber immensely, and before I left I was invited to dinner the following Sunday. From that moment things went pretty smoothly, though it waa only last evening that in talking over our courting days in the far away pest my wife explained tbe meaning of ber extraordinary ixioinees to me. ft seems thot when, after the drive in what she is pleased to call the "fairy omnibus," I walked into her aunt's din- ing room, she quite recognized that I must be her destiny, and so, with fem- inine jjerversity, she felt called ui>on to struggle against fate as much as pos- sible. "Hut vou ougbt to !» very thankful to me for one thing," she added. "It was I whoâ€" but never mind." "Nomsensel"' I said. "Go on. We are too old fashioned to be romantic any longer." "Well," she said, "it was t who sug- gested you should be invited to din- ner." Which just shows what contradic- tory creatures women are. HER ANXIOUS l-'ACE. In lookingg up a word in the diction- ary several days ago my eyes fell on the definition of " emulation " â€" " the act of attempting to equal or excel In qual- ities or actions ; rivalry, desires of su- periority, attended with an effort to attain it." Only the evening Iwfore we hod been talking aliout a little woman whb was once pretty, Init now bus a liarrassed and anxious expression of countenance. " What is the matter with her ?" ask- ed one. It waa a physician who ans- wered : " She has no disease. She is wearing herself to death by emulation of oth- er people. The strain will kill her if she keeps it up. Nobody in this world can stay first." His words and the dictionary defini- tion set me thinking. Are not many wo- men killing theni.selves by this same pr<KM«sf And how drearily uiiprofilahle it all is, when one con.siders the truth of the physician's statement, tli.it "no- liody in IJiis world can slay first I" " Nobody,! For strive as we may, there is always some one wilih a little mure money, a handsomer him.se, more influ- ence, or perliBi>s more brains. There is merit in lilie desire to iimkn the liest of ourselves and of t,lie lalents given us. There is no credit due licr, who, because of "a<le.sire for superiority" over another, wears herself out in at- tempting to do tihlat which she cjin not perform. Is this not one reason for the nervous, anxiou.s look on the (iwes of our American women? TJiey strive to (Irejw as well as neiB'li)l)ors with double their income; tlicy give enterlainment,s thai empty the never t(Ki full purse, and they Iniy furniture for which they can only pay by rigid self-denial. Were we only content as women to do just that which we can easily af- ford, how much morn peaceful our lives would lie, Iwiw much lietler our chil- dren, how much more care free and youtvhfiil our men â€" these American hus- iinnils the liojit.ln the world, who can- not Ix'ar lo liave their. wives long for thinifs that bv an .additional strain I hey iniKht giv.e 'thorn. Ami would not our llveA he 16nger in tb^ land! A PUBLIC EXECUTIONER M. DEIBLER, OF PARIS, HAS GUIL- LOTINED 602 CRIMINALS. Hometblag Abest the HeadsnaB of Franec -Baa Held the PotltloB ThIrtj-NInc Yean-Wlll Smb Belire to Pritate Lire. Tbe man in France who has probably killed more human beings than any oth- er person in tbe world, unless those 2,000 rebellious Mussulmans who were executed in the Northwestern province of China a few months ago were decap- itated by one man, which is not like- ly, is 8000 to renounce his trade of blood and retire to private life. In oth- er words, M. Deibler, popular known as " Monsieur de Paris," is to resign from bis office as the public execution- er of France with a record of 502 of- ficial deaths to bis credit. Speaking of his retirenoent the Fi- garo says editorially: " He is very old, bis band trembles, and bis extensive services should give him the right to rest. His achievements are known to all ; be has dealt more than 500 wounds, all of which have been fatal, but not for him. Lately it was noticed that he has become enfeebled ; be bad no long- er tbe skill ,tbc vim of bis youth. " At this S02d execution at Nancy tbe other day he came near bungling tbe ceremony ; and tbe people of that pro- vince are very particular. In a few days, possibly even to-morrow, the gruesome identity of ' Monsieur de Far- is ' will have fallen upon another than M. Deibler, who will retire from the world, knows only as ' M. Moresu,' a good, honest citizen, living on a small, yet sufficient income." A HEADSMAN THIRTY-NINE YEARS M. Deibler has been an executioner for thirty-nine years, Froua 1858 to 1863 he assisted Roch, his predecessor, in eighty-two executions, and then became "executeur des hautes oeuvres" him- self. He is now seventy-three years of age. If such a term be permissible, it may be said that he is the most popu- lar " Ixjurreau " that France has ever bad, and he has very seldom been plac- ed in an emiiarrassing position at the scaffold. He carefully tests the guillotine be- forehand, and even again at tbe last moment, just before the execution. 'The knife he keeps in his own possession at bis home. The different places in France appointed for executions have each their own scaffolds. In journey- ing to and from an execution M.Deibler carries the knife with him in a small black case of leather made fur the pur- pose. This case once seen is never for- gotten. The memory of its deeds seem to hiunt one. M. Deibler seemed to have a strange almost supernatural power over his in- tended victims, and it rarely happens that he meets with any resistance. When be does tbe police are there to do his bidding, hit he usually insists on managing the refractory criminal himself. In personal appearance M. Deibler has Iwen an ideal " Monsieur de Paris," with hU black l)eard, iron gray hair, dark mournful eyes and pale visage. He always dresses in black, with long frock coat and tall silk hat. His do- mestic life has been quiet, as might naturally be supposed and his wife, who died a few months ago, was a delicate, refined and well-read woman, hardly the sjiouso that one would expect to find in the home of " Monsieur de Par- is." It has lieen reported that she was a descend.int of the f:unous .Samson. who lieheaded I,<mis XVI. That is a mis- take, Siunson bad but one son, who was named Henri, and who was Rnch's pre- decessor until 1848, when he retired from office, with rather an unenviable name. About fifteen or twenty years .igo he published the famous " Memoirs de Sanwon." Mme. Deibler was the daughter of the executioner of Algiers. SNOWBALL. RITNAWAY. SUICIDE. Peter Joseph Dreis waa the oldest druggist in St. Paul, Minn., and one of the city's leading politicians. His son, 13 years old, threw a snowball at a man in a cutter the other day, and it struck the horse, causing it to run away. This runaway resulted directly in three other runaways, in which much damage was done. Two of the injured Fer.Hons calleil at the drug store, !ind demanded dania{?e.i. Without iiiiiking any an.swer Mr. Drels w.alked directly into the office at the rear of the store, put a revolver behind his right ear, and fired. De.ith was in.ilantaneiius. Mr. Drei.s has been in the drug business here forty years. LIGHTHOUSE - KEEPER'S RETURN Bravery of lllit Wife Nnve<l Him From a Watery (arnve. The lonely life of a lighthouse- keeper calls for stern, unswerving de- votion to duly, and aonielUnes for real heroism. A story is told of the wife of a lighthouse-keeper of Chicago which shows that t he lieroi.sm is not always confined to the keeper himself. The light which this keeper tended ia at a (ilace called the "Crib," two miles out in the lake, and surmounts the massive masonry at the entrance of the iliinnel which receiv{^s the water supply of the city. One day in early winter the keeper went a.shoro for supplies. Night came, and he did net return. A wild sloriu liad swept suddenly down, and it was imiKissible ftn n Iniat to cross the lake; but though the keeper was not there, the light burned steadily and the wife kept her limely watch, tending the light and looiking for her husband. It waa two or three days before he ciune, and even then the waves ran high and the wind roared. She stood at the window of the t«>v.'er wailing for him, with a rope reauy to draw up the >â- â- â€¢ small cargo. It was soon safely hoiised, and the rupe descended for the keeper. Just as he grasped it the waves swept his boat from under him, and carried it away beyond bis reach. His safety depended on the strength of hia (wife's arm, and he trusted himself to it. Slow- ly, very slowly, he was drawn: up, till he reached the window's edge, but be- fore he could grasp it a heavy gust of wind struuk him, and he was hurl- ed back into the water. Once more the rope was thrown with- in his reach, and inch by inch he felt himself ascending tbe rough wall of the stone tower tossed to and fro by the force oif the wind. ' Would the strength of the wife bold out till the final effort was made, or would the wind triumph and send him book into the raging water? It seemed impossible that the woman could sustain such a weight so long, yet he slowly ascended till tbe critical spot was reached, and with a long, brave pull the ledge was passed, and be climb- ed in at the window. Then, and not till then, did tbe brave woman's endurance give away. As ber husband touched the floor she fainted. It was no wonder. He found her clothes worn through where she had braced her knees against tbe stone wall, and her left arm was torn and bleeding. The sudden jerk when bci fell had wounded her arm and disabled it, yet she had not given un. "I knew there was no time to faint," she said, when she opened ber eyes and looked in his face. "You were at tbe other end, and so I drew that rope up with my right bond and my teeth." VALUE OF PUBUC PLAYGROUNDS. The lireat Beacat Which They Coafer •â-  Old sad I'asBc. Among tbe many plans which have been suggested in England for com- memorating worthily the sixtieth an- niversary of the coronation of Queen Victoria in June next, none seems to find more favor than tbe proposition for a concerted movement for setting aside plots of groimd or places of his- toric interest to be dediicated to tbe common use and enjoyment of the peo- ple. It is pointed out that this is a plan which will m'lvo the people of eacb towrn and country a persoual interest in tbe celebration, while it will give them also tbe feeling that they are shar- ing in tbe great national movement. Should this plan be adopted, hundreds of "Queen Victoria" gardens, parks/ playgrounds and fields, dotted over tbe kingdom, may express the popular ap- preciation of Queen Victoria's benefi- cent reign, and at tbe same time con- fer a great and lasting benefit upon tbe people. There are One or two errors which should be guarded against, however. For one thing, places set apart for the public use suosild not De too good lo play in. Meat paths, closely trim- med sods and signs of "Keep off tbe gra^" do not meet tbe need. These are all well, but somewhere in the park there should be grass which one can stretch out upon, and ground that tbe boys can truuiple over. Another -misiake is that communi- ties do not begin soon enough lo set aside land for commons and publiu grounds. They wait until the pressure of population makes breaibing-space absolutely essential Xo the general health, iBy that time land commands a large price, and the difficulty of se- curing enough of it within easy reach of the [leojile is considerable. iPlay grounds, too, ore needed in the country as well as in cities. It is often a.ssuined in the country that boys and girls have all outdoors in which to play, and that special provision for them is not necessary ; but it often happens in rural communities that there is no place iu which children may romp freely.. They either play iu the roads or trespass in private fields and pas- tures. Rural ooiimiunities which move in season to secure open grounds for the public use not only provide fur the children of to-day, but save large ex- penditure later, when population pres- ses upon them, and land comes to be reckoned at so much tbe square foot. PRUSSIAN SABLE, Ten thousand dollars seems a big price to pay for a second-hand garment, but the members of tbe Royal house of Kurope do not hesitate to spend this .imount frequently to obtain one for winter wear. The first owners of tbe costly drees are endowed by nature with a precedenc«^ In the matter of wearing that no amount of money can overcome. and the millionaire or titled representa- tive of a European monarchy must be content to purch.ise the garments after threy have lieen worn for years. But the Russian salute is not a hum.Tn being and, no matter how mucJi the animu! may drag the fur through tbe mire and dirt, no one will consider it a dishonor to wear it. In Russia, apd many of the Northern countries a s Iwo coat or cloak is Worn us a mark of distinction, and Svengali, in his exprei.ied ambition to wear "ze big fur coat," undoubtedly re- ferred to the fine Hii3sm.n sable that i« seen so c««nmonly at the courts of Burojw. While the fashion in most fur changes year by year, sable invariably holds its own, and the possessor of a rich gar- ment of this material can well feel the pride that cx>mes from owning some- thimg not coimmonly worn. 'I'he de- mand for salilc has never been so ex- ten.sive here as in Kurope, and very few Uinderstand the dLftereiico l)etwpx!ii the reJati.ve value of the American and Rus- sian furs. At the court of Russia every inemlter must have his sable furs for state occa-siojis, luid it is estimated that this eqiii|«nioiit must cost each one not far from $J5.000. In Germany the maids of honor arn coiiii>©'ilod to hav«< theu' garments trihirawl with sable tails and clippings, whit.i in tbe court dresses of severai other ICiiropeau nations the sabie figures in viirious ways. N0TWINU~SKRIOUS. Doctor (examining an applicant for life insurance)â€" Niiw what - did your father and mother die off Applicant â€" Well, .sir I can't ««y a.s I "xactly remember; but 'twarn't notJu- ing serious. ' BMDITS LED_BY A WOMAN TERRIFYING THE PEOPLE OF BEL- GIUM'S; RIG CITIES. A Darlsc Womaa Uick Tarpiaâ€" People Afraid t« I,eave their Huasei Atler Night- railâ€" The Pcllce Are Cowpletelr Bafll- ed. Delgium has a gang of bandits the- atrical enough in their methods and make-up to warrant their appearance on the stage in melodrama without so much as adding a feather to their bats or a daub of grease paint to tbeiv cheeks. To begin with, the leader is a wo- man, and the woman is apparently young and graceful, £is well as relenk- less and determined in operations. Sha always wears a mask wheoa she is o^tl conducting a business enterprise, so hes face has never been seen by any of her. numerous victims. But the assiuup- Uon is that she is beautiful. As for tbe gang, which she seems to rule witb a rod or iron, it is made up of as inter- estingly villainous an assortment ot scoundrels as the heart could desirej To add to their natural piratical cut/ they wear slouched bats and are maak-> ed like their leader. < Tbe gang has been operating of later in the vicintiy U Brussels and Ant- werp, and, in addition to a great uubif' ber of petty robbers in farm-houses and farm-yards, they have waylaid and pillaged belated travellers 00 the high- ways. THEIR LAST EXPLOIT. One of their last exploits was neafl the vilUge of Thlsselt. It was Ute.at, night, and two men who live in tbsi village were returning home. Their road lay along the border of the WU- lebrocck Oanal, and at a place where great trees grew so close together that they casL a deep shadow, even tbougb It was winter and they were stripped! of their leaves. At tbis point four dusky figures sud-* denly loomed up before them, and they had just time lo notice that one ot them was a masked woman when lhey> were seized, thrown violently to the ground and gagged. The woman her- self shared in the attack, leaping oa one of the men like a panther and bearing him down witb a strength and *"aaenneas that seemed 'incredible. When the men were beyond the power to move or make an outcry the wo- man stood aloof, while the rest of the gang did tbe pillaging. 'Wben tbis was accomplished the woman joined hejt subordinatea in giving the unbappy! burghers sucij a pounding and kicking as left them barely able lo move. Then the gang got into a boat that wa* moored to the bank of tbe canal near by and, with muffled oars, disappeared in the darkness. The whole transac- uon did not take more than five min- utes, but it was an hoar before tbe battered and bruised victims got intc* the village and told their tale. POLICE HAVE NO CLUE. Tbe gendarmes turned out in force, and tbe whole country for miles aboutt was ransacked, but not a trace of the robbers was found. It wa* as though tbe mist havering over the canal had swallowed them up and they had melt- ex away with it when the sun came in the morning. .The result ot this and a number ol similar robberies which have occurred and are still occurring is that there IS a sort of reign of terror existing among the people who live in the in-' tested district. Women are afraid lo leave their bouses after nightfall, and even men will not venture after dark along the country unle-ss in sufficient numbers to be safe from attack. THE SKELETON DANCB. Vrotetqnc Amsurmrut ut the Nstlvei at New Mvulh naleii. Dancing "as she is taught" by Frencb masters is little in vogue with the na- tives of New South Wales, but they do something far more original and in teresting, in their own way â€" though rather too violent and eccentric to be introduced into the civilized ball room^ It is not a religious exercise like the) whirling antics of the dancing dervishes and the grotesque ajntortions of our. American Indians celebrating a good harvest or a victory over foes. It is rather a iribal social event, and a source of amusement, indulged in tor the purpose of .Stirling ihe blood and getting up a little pleasurable ex- citement. When lime hangs heavily on the hands of the young savages I hey decide, much like their more civilized lirotliers, to liven up things by a dance. , A level spot edged by a forest some- where nesir their huts is chosen. Then, when night falls, a huge fire is built by the wojiieii and youngesters. while Ihe young men who are lo honor Terp- sichoreâ€"or whoever I i.eir 'goddess of (lancing may beâ€" relire lo arrange iheir toilet. This is done by chalking their liiire. broun liotiies with pipe clay ill lines to rejiresent tiones ; broad lines for the aruLs and legs, and narrower ones for the libs. Thtj orchestra con- sists ot a lot of shields vigorously beat- en, and accoiiiiiauied by voices, the re- verse of tuneful. When the fire burns brightly, throw- ing the surrounding landscape into deeper gloom, and the hideous din o£ the warshielcbi reiuls Ihe sky, there sud- denly emerges from the shadows of the wiwd that appears to the horror-struck spectator to be a coiiipauy of skelelons. They execute contort inns of t he arms and legs, much rcMUiil liu^ the perform- ances of a pasteboard jumping- jack, keeping time to the rhytluaic dashing of the shields; then they suddenly van- ish from view as if by magic. 'I'his disappearance so suiprising to see, is, reiilly very simple in execution; since the botlies of the dancers are only chalked in front, they have <mly to turn around to cayap their dusky forms to vanish iu tbe giuom of tbe baok^ grounil. ' » . .. - .