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NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
Military Studies Begun in the School of
Brieiiue.
His War Genius Foreshadowed-Defiant in Manner, He Incurred the
Animosity of His Fellows—Arrested for Challenging a
Schoolinate-Battle of the Snow Fort Desired
to Lead, .Not Follow.
Copyright, 1895. by,
III.—AUTUN AND BKHSNNE.
The old town of Autun lies on the left
har.K of the Arroux, 164 miles southeast
of Paris. Here the boys Buonaparte were
jjt to school, in January, 1779. The town
■q an epitome of European history. It was
the capital of the brave Aeduans, whom
Caesar overcame in the first year of the
Gallic war. The place, from being a Ro
n?; iji oppidum, became barbarian again.
The Vandals had it; then the Burgundians;
ch n the Huns; then the Franks; then the
Saracens; then the Normans; and once,
the English. Of these vicissitudes, the
monumental traces remained when Na
poleon, in his tenth year, arrived at the
fcatts. He was put under charge of the
Abbe Chardon, nephew of the Gen. Mar
boeuf. The latter devoted himself to the
interests of the Buonaparte family, and
paid a part of the expenses.
The plan of Carlo Buonaparte and his
friend, the general, was to give to both
the boys a military education. It wxs
deemed expedient that they should first
learn French in the school of the Abbe, at
Autun. To this work they were put, on
their arrival; and in about three months
they were reckoned sutliciently advanced
to begin a tegular course of instruction in
some military establishment.
Meanwhile the father and Marboeuf had
gone to Versailles, and were assiduous in
their efforts to get the boys established
as pensioners. The solicitation was that
the young fellows should be educated at
the expense of the state. Marboeuf invent
ed a fiction, flecked with fact, about the
nobility of his wards; and the petition was
granted finally as to Napoleon. But Joseph
had now passed the limit of his eleventh
year, and was no longer eligible—unless by
violation of law. He must, therefore, be
diverted to the priesthood, while the
younger brother was assigned, at the pub
lic charge, to the military academy at
Brienno-la-Chapelle, on the right bank of
artment of the same
name, a hundred ami eighteen miles from
Paris. Thither he was transferred in the
latter part of April, 1779, and was ad
mitted as a cadet.
At Autun. the chief business had been
to teach him French. He applied himself
closely to this task, but not very success
fully. He learned to speak French, bro
kenly, with an Italian accent. To the end
of his life he never acquired a nice knowl
edge of the adopted tongue. His gram
mar was broken, his composition thun
derstruck. and his spelling heretical. His,
practical knowledge of the language
which he was destined to use for fdrty
two years in his intercourse with men
was sufficient; but his mind was never
NAPOLEON AT TWENTY-TWO.
tolerant ot technlcalltes. These he
slurred over with impetuous impatience,
as though they were insignificant details
tit lor children.
This trait of neglecting the exactitudes
was strongly manifested from Napoleon’s
childhood. He Went as far as the prac
tical in whatever subject he touched; but
having seized thus much, he cared for
nothing else. He desired correctness in
others, for that was useful to him; but
as for himself, he wanted only aggregate
results and a knowledge of their prac
tical advantage. All authors have com
mented On the Inaccuracies and lapses In
'hr Napoleonic correspondence and man
uscripts. it became his habit to slur over,
in liis rapid way, the errors in his writ
ing; and his arrogance seemed to con
'in him that, while correct spelling was
an accomplishment in pedagogues, it was
rather a fault In great men.
His teacher, the Abbe, has left a sketch
of the lad, as he was at Autun, entirely
consistent with what we know of his an
tecedent and gubsetJEfent character. The
young Bonaparte is described by his mas
ter as being of solemn demeanor; rarely
laughing; never happy or mirthful; no
disposition for playing; proud and soli
tary; easily wounded; always resentful;
learning with lightning-like rapidity, but
stopping short of correctness; vain of Ills
faculties; patriotism utmost morbid; dls
bking the powerful foreign race with
which his lot had been cast; looking back
regretfully to Corsica, and (most unboy
bkei thinking more of his country than
be did of his home and mother.
Already, before leaving Autun, the pale
little Bonaparte fell into frequent quarrels
with his French schoolmates about the
Corsican revolution! They Insulted him
with the charge that his countrymen had
been cowards—else 'they would have won
their independence. To this he answered
angrily that if the French had outnum
bered his people only four to one, the in
vaders would have beetr defeated. Mili
tary calculation already! In his child
hood he had made Paoll a god; a.nd It Is
recorded of him that he said In one of
bis playground disputes; “Paoll was a
great general, and I should much like to
emulate him!”
fhe military academy at Brienne was
one of ten of like kind recently estab
lished In the kingdom. Besides these,
■here wero two higher schools, one at
Haris and the other at La Fleche. This
system had superseded another which had
"ailed on account of Its unpopularity. The
military education and the right thereto
was a plum for the nobles. Boys of the
I bird estate had therein no part or lot.
in the schools were gathered the weaken
ed reproductions of a moribund nobility.
The governors of the schools were even
as the cadets. The Institutions degener
ated, until there was a popular reaction
against them. There was a reform,
a aded by the church. New schools were
Ps tabllshed, and monks were put In charge
°f them!
At the time when the boy Napoleon
wAnt to Brienne, the remarkable condl
"on was presented of a sj'stem of military
schools In charge of the monastic fathers,
who condition was as if West Point and
•anapolis should be put under the ad
fohn Clark Ridpath.
ministration of a general conference! The
lirlenne academy was conducted by the
Minim Fathers, good men in their way,
but as sources of inspiration to lads with
the gleam of military glory in their brains
they were mere dullness and obfuscation!
The courses of study were in mathematics
geography, history, Latin, modem lan
guages, philosophy, and such poor mis
named science as might be squeexed from
the sponge of clerical dogmatism in the
eighteenth century.
Such was tiie disciplinary fare which
was offered to the boy Napoleon. He was
now far removed from friends and kins
•
schoolmates; admired one of them—Bou
rienne—and seemed to love another—Dos
Maxis; but his character and manner were
rocks of offense to the rest of the hundred
and fifty. Nothing more striking has been
presented in personal annals than the con
trast which the poor Corsican lad, with his
solemn face, long stiff, blac* hair, f aug ty
expression, close-shut Italian mouth, soli
tary pride of bearing, and unfashionable
insular suit, afforded to the throng of
noble, mocking effeminates among whom
he was washed up as from the sea.
On his entrance into the academy—which
was a clean, well ordered place—Napoleon
brought from the Abbe Chardon certifi
cates of moderate proficiency and the us
ual character sketch of himself as a pupil.
But nothing protected him from the in
ane animosity of his fellows. They jeered
at him in a manner that would have driven
a less resolute spirit to despair. Had he
been complaisant, he might easily have
won peace, if not popularity; hut his de
fiant air seemed to challenge the attacks
of the contemptuous crowd.
Deep down in the situation lay the pro
vocation of poverty. The boy perceived
the disparagement to which he was sub
jected on this score; and it maddened
him not a little. His most troublesome
characteristic was this— that he would not
follow in anything. He would lead. He
would b© first or nothing. Assumption of
leadership and the air of it brought on
him still greater contumely. The bitter
ness of the situation sometimes came to
the verge of bloodshed. Once he got him
self arrested for challenging another to
fight him on account of an insulting re
mark about his father. The sullen boy
went muttering to the guard house. Nor
was restored to condition until Marboeuf
had interceded in person with the authori
ties.
Gettlng his liberty, Napoleon sought
his own company more than never. For
exercise he cultivated a small piece of
ground as a garden. There was a hedge
round about, and here he could be alone
In his keep. All the while he applied him
self, with great diligence and concentra
tion of mind, to those studies which he
preferred. Such was his willfulness that
he virtually made his own curriculum.
While becoming proficient In geography,
history and mathematics, he neglected
the languages, giving indeed to all the
politer branches only such modicum of at
tention as was absolutely demanded.
Out of this epoch come some well-known
stories of the student Bonaparte at Bri
enne. In course of time his fellow-cadets,
understanding him better, became first
tolerant, and then friendly. Friendship
In the case of the proud and arbitrary
cadet meant subjection to his will. While
he could not be companionable In sports,
he could and would command. The exist
ence of the tradition about his dividing
his fellows into two armies, building a
fort in winter out of snow (building It,
too, according to the principles of good
engineering!), making a seige, with snow
balls for bombs, and with all the serious
ness of Genghis Khan carrying the place
by storm, may well attest his disposition
and growing ascendancy at the academy.
The young Napoleon remained at Bri
enne from April of 1779 to the year J 784.
The inspector Kerallo, coming from Paris
to the military school, discerned in the
slender cadet from Ajaccio the hints of
promise. The method was in such cases to
send up students from the minor acade
mies to the military school of Paris.
Sometimes promotion was made directly
to the navy; and this was considered a
great honor. It appears that the inspec
tor would have had CJadet Bonaparte
sent to the fleet; but the officer died be
fore his wish could be fulfilled.
Accordingly, at the end of Napoleon’s
course ot Brienne, he was recommended
for promotion to the military school in
Paris. At this time, namely, In 1784,
when Napoleon was in his sixteenth year,
he was personally described by the in
spector In the following terms: “M. de
Bonaparte (Napoleon), born August 15,
1769. Height, 4 pieds, 10 pouces, 10 lignes
( metre, 57 centimeters, 3 millimeters—
-5 feet, 2.7 inches), is in the fourth class;
of good constitution, excellent health,
mild disposition (mistake there. Inspect
or!) Is upright, grateful; conduct very
regular; has always been distinguished
for his application to mathematics; Is fair
ly acquainted with history and geography;
Is weak in all accomplishments (very true,
Monsieur de Keralio!) and Latin. He
tvill make an excellent sailor; deserves
promotion to the military school In Paris.”
The character of the young Napoleon at
this period of his career reveals In one
thing a depth and far-off sight that might
well have belonged to the forceful years
of his maturity. The thing related to
Joseph, his brother. From his childhood
he had discerned his own natural superi
ority. Usually the elder subordinates the
younger. As early as the coming to Au
tun, Napoleon excogitated the scheme to
lodge his brother on the safe ledge of the
priesthood. Thus would he have him out of
his way! Given a military career for both,
and Joseph must be, by seniority, before
him. But nothing shall be before him.
Arguments fit for Richelieu are found why
Joseph shall enter the church, rise to dis
tinction, be a Monseigneur, and by that
way defend, support and advance the pros
pects of the family of Buonaparte. As for
me, I will accept the hardships of the mili
tary life. and may be something
bpyond! There are on record several sub
tle communications written by the young
casuist, strongly urging the priestly office
as the one thing suitable and advantag
eous for Joseph. Our future king of Na
ples or Spain or both, willingly obedient to
the imperial scepter, shall testify to our
prescience and brotherly wisdom!
John Clark Rldpath.
Alleged Trick In tlie Art Trade.
From the Philadelphia Press.
•'lt is a curious thing,” remarked an art
ist, screwing up his eyelids until they
looked like slits, as he scrutinized a small
painting, “that people in this country pre
fer foreign subjects to those taken from
their midst. This gives rise to a peculiar
industry, very harmful to native talent.
Agents of American dealers collect in Eu
rope students’ sketches from all parts,
co3tume sketches, I mean, showing a
toreador smoking in the sunlight or a
fisherman mending his nets. They buy
these sketches for a mere song, and then
turn them over to someone else to paint
In a fake background. If you are a
connoisseur you can tell them at a glance,
but there is a market for them, never
theless.” - ‘
THE MORXIXG XEWS: SUXDAY. MARCH :t. 13fT>.
VERSATILITY OF THE FRENCH.
PARIS IMCTATINfi THE UW9 OF
FASHION.
Fashion With All lt Frivolities Has
••Raison d’Ktre” Need of
Change* to Enhance Women's
Iteant > France Faithful for Cent
uries to Her Form of Government.
She Respected Christian l nit)
Louger Tliau England and Ger
many—She l*ossrses the Spring*
of Moral Progreso— She Experi
ments, Suffers and Fights for the
Welfare of the Unman ilaee.
Although it ha* been said that the only
is the one who never changes, it
is always more or provoking to
hear it said that the French are fickle,
unsteady and versatile. How many times
have we heard that stereotyped sentence
since th© resignation of Casimir-Perier!
The truth is that many Anu-goans, and
especially women of the “Four Hun
! dred’s set,” who think the republic good
enough for them, would not be displeased
at all to see France come back once more
to the monarchy. They have, of course,
their own reasons for thinking thus, and
though they wisely conceal them, they
are easy to understand. We willingly ad
mit that there was more fun at the Tuile
ries receptions than in kissing the hand ef
j an old decrepit queen. But to comply with
| the tastes of few gay women, France Is
| not going to change a form of government
\ under which she has recuperated her
| strength and her wealth and won the ad
| miration of the world.
When Francis I. wrote on a window
pane of his favorite castle of Chambord:
'Often woman changes her mind\
A great fool is he who trusts her.”
He surely never thought of paying a
compliment to the better half of man
kind. Those who say that the French
are the most versatile people in the
world do not either Intend it as a flattery'
to our race. The artist who was commis
sioned to paint the costumes of the va
rious nations of the earth, represented
the French dressed in the old fashion of a
I fig leaf, and this just at the time when
: the leaves begin to fall, giving as his rea
-! sons that they changed styles so often
l that it would be impossible to indicate
their national dress, doubtless intending
this as a smart epigram.
It is true that there are abuses of these
changes as of every thing else, and that
the French in particular sometimes go to
extremes In this respect. But it should
not harshly be determined that the
changes, though frequent, are necessa
rily wrong, or that versatility is a vice.
Animals remain always the same, that
is, within the limit of our short observa
tions. Whenever a change takes place
among them it is to be attributed to our
influence and not to their own wishes.
Nature has clothed each species of ani
mals with a costume which It retains
without alterations, unless it comes un
der the domination of man. Each species
also inherits by nature? a certain calling
which it follows, without, however, ever
thinking of improving it. Man alone can
in certain cases train it to do better or
to act otherwise. Man alone has the fac
ulty of modifying other beings as well as
himself. He only has been able to create
those arts which give a varia
ble appearance to the secondary
conditions of his existence so as
sometimes to change them almost
completely. It Is a prerogative he cannot
well renounce without denying the supe
riority of his nature. He has therefore
i no more reason to blush at versatility
| than at curiosity, at love or at ambition,
which ah*) contribute to distinguish him
from the‘.lnferior species. Let him not,
however, become vain, for it is by conceit
that man falls into ridicule and compro
mises his superiority.
France to-day is in a position to dictate
the laws of fashion to other nations. This
is an indisputable fact, upon which, how
ever, she should not flatter herself too
much-
She may have been beaten, over
whelmed, devastated, and even put within
an Inch of complete ruin, but she has
never been despoiled of that strange su
premacy which consists In imposing new
styles of dress and coiffure on all other
civilized countries. Why these continual
changes? Ask a woman, for to her alone
belongs the sovereignty of fashion.
Women will answer that they have need
of changes to enhance the value of their
beauty. It is not only in France that
they manifest such a want, it has been
and is still so in all countries, and under
all degrees of civilization. But the French
woman is the only one who Is capable
of creating such conceptions aB will sat
isfy the feminine caprices of the entire
world. The fruit of these conceptions may
often seem absurd, fantastic and extrav
agant, especially in the eyes of the poor
husband who has to meet the bills. They
are, nevertheless, accepted, and the de
crees promulgated in Paris, in the “Monj
teur de la mode,” receive a more prompt
obedience in London, St. Petersburg, Lis
bon, New York and even Savannah, than a
bull of Pope Leo XIII. would from the
most fervent Catholic.
Can wo reproach France or French
women for extravagance and excessive
versatility In fashions? If the prevailing
taste which presides over the variations
of costumes is not always very chaste,
might ft not as well be said that it is at
least proportionate to the fancy of those
who seek it and receive its prescribed
rules with blind eagerness? Fashion, with
all Its frivolities, has a ‘raison d’etre.’
However wo may consider this, the na
tions who voluntarily submit to Its reign
have no right to criticise the one which
alone knows how to make it acceptable
A much more serious contention Is the
versatility of ideas, or in other words, the
fashion of thought. There Is no harm In
the mere fact of change. We have ad
mitted It In principle, since progress Is
necessary to man, and that no progress
Is possible without change*. But the
French are accused of changing their
Ideas, opinions and systems without suf
ficient causes. What must we think of
this assertion? Let us consider It from a
religious and political point of view,
that is to say under the most serious as
pect it may bear. There is always a
measure of truth In the reputation which
is given to a people. Only it is necessary
to separate that truth from the exaggera
tions which surround It.
It is indisputable that French philoso
phy acquired In the XVIIth century a
strong rationalistic character. That is. it
proclaimed In the most absolute terms
through the organ of Descartes the sover
eignty of reason. Although Descartes and
his immediate successors did not direct
ly attack the authority of the Church and
of the revealed religion, It Is certain that
this authority had to succumb, sooner or
later, to the all-power of rationalism,
but It would be absurd to maintain that
this contest was engaged in without fore
thought, and that France had beefome In
fidel In the opinion of Protestants, im
pious according to the language of Home,
or simply free-thinking in the ordinary
sense of speech, without serious and suffi
cient reasons.
That which has given a plausible ap
pearance to this opinion, was the boasting
or jesting policy of Voltaire, which oc
cupied the attention of the world dur- j
ing half ot the eighteenth century, and \
created considerable havoc In the old be
lief*. But If c only reflect that this
great writer and the philosophim of his
school, have simply pm into practice the
abstract rationalism of Descartes, we are
forced to recognise that France was a long
time before giving way to the revolution
ary spirit of modem times, and that she
respected Christian unity longer than Ger
many and Knpland. which had been tom
up since the sixteenth century by their
various Protestant sects. Moreover, it is
France, who in the age of blind faith.
IfUlded Europe to the conquest of the
tomb of our Saviour, and, up to this day.
she severs herself only with hesitation
from the theocracy which she has upheld
during so many centuries.
In political matters fickleness Is a com
plaint as untenable as the one to which
we have just rendered justice. More than
a century after England, revolutionized
by Protestantism, had decapitated its old
monarchy in the person of Charles 1..
France retained hers and endured the
regime of the courtiers and the infamous
manipulators who fattened on its main
tenance.
Is it the great revolution which is ad
vanced as a proof of France's versatility?
I'oeo not this tet'rlblo fight of the new
tendencies against the ancient dogmas
demonstrate, on the contrary, how diffi
cult it was for France to efTect a change
of system? What also must we think of
the various attempts to restore the mon
archy which have been made during our
century, unless it be that they are an
evidence of the attachment which a too
largo number of her sons have for the
politics of the past? Taking all this into
consideration, we are more disposed to
complain of the spirit of routine of the na
tion than to tax her with frivolity.
Her philosophical genius’, as manifested
by her great thinkers, has discovered the
radical error of all monarchies as well
as that of all theocracies.
Without stopping at the middle phase
of constitutional rule and Protestantism,
she went in straight for the republic us
the only form of government compatible
with the rights of man, hnd for rational
ism as the religion worthy of rea
son. It is true that the distance between
the old regime and the new is very great.
It Is true that in order to crocs it, the
lumbersome baggage of old Ideas must be
abandoned. This can bo done without
levity, without caprice, not with a ridicu
lous Infatuation for w hat is new, but for
ths love of truth and the sincere desire
to assure the triumph of justice and of
liberty. This is what France Is now doing.
If, to superficial minds, she appears to be
more fickle and more versatile than other
nations, her detractors do not imagine
that with tlie frivolity of their Judgment
is mixed the crime of Ingratitude. If
France is really given up to the torments
of perpetual fluctuations, if her life la
composed of an alternation of successes
and reverses, if she surprises tljc world
by such diverse and unforeseen aspects,
it is because the springs of moral prog
ress are to be found in her; it is because
her soil is the field of all the experiments
of thought; it Is because she seeks, ex
plores, risks, suffers and lights for the
welfare of the whole human race.
Prof. Antoine Muzzarelll,
HAD ANOTHER SPIRIT.
4 GIRL LOSES HER IDENTITY AND
BECOMES SOME ONE LONG DEAD.
From the New York Herald.
Watseka, 111., has a tale so extraor
dinary as to stagger the most credulous,
and yet so well attested as to silence the
most sceptical. That there Is a spirit
world many believe; that there is com
munication between the two worlds Is be
lieved by few. Yet from time to time
facts aro brought to light that seem to
put It beyond question that there Is a
life to come, and that Its inhabitants can
occasionally make themselves evident to
mortal men. Then are the unbelievers
compelled to either surrender their unbe
lief or, as Andrew Lang wittily says, to
repeat at their leisure what the Psalmist
said In his haste, “All men are liars.”
Mary Hoff, daughter of Asa B. and Ann
Rolf, was born In Warren county, Indiana,
in the autumn of 1846. Sho was a nervous
child, and from her Infancy was subject
to fitsi which increased In severity as she
grew older. The family afterward went
to Watseka to live. When she was about
18 years old she deliberately cut herself
with a knife in the arm. so severely that
she soon fainted from loss of blood and
lay unconscious for five hours.
On recovering consciousness she went
Into violent convulsions, which lasted five
days and nights. When the convulsions
ceased she seemed to recognise no one,
and was unable to see. feel or hear In the
natural way, but she seemed to read
easily with a thick bandage over her
eyes. In this condition she remained for
three or four days, and then passed into
t her former state. She died suddenly while
in a convulsion about a year later—July
5, 1865.
Mary Lurancy Vennum, daughter of
Thomas J. and Lurtnda J. Vennum, was
born In Milford township, seven miles
south of Watseka, 111., not quite a year be
fore Mary Roff’s death. Her parents
moved to Watseka in 1871, their house
In that town being about forty rods from
that of the Hoffs. Their acquaintance
with the Hoffs was of the slightest. Mrs.
Roft called once on Mrs. Vennum, but the
call was not returned, and the husbands
had merely a slight speaking acquaint
ance.
Lurancy had good health until she was
a little more than 13 year* old. She told
her mother In the early summer of 1877
that some persons had been In her room
the night before and had called to her
"Raney! Raney!" She had felt, she said,
their breath on her face. A few days
later, uly 11, about 6 o’clock In the even
• ing, her mother asked her to get supper.
”Ma,” she said, “I feel so queer,” and,
with the words, fell in an apparent fit,
and remained rigid and unconscious for
five hours. When she regained conscious
ness she still felt queer, and described to
her mother ami friends several persons
long dead, whom she said she saw. Among
them were her sister and brother. Dur
ing the following seven or eight months
she had these trances quite frequently,
and her relatives began to take steps to
have her sent to an Insane asylum.
Dr. E. W. Stevens of Janesville, Wis..
called, at the instance of friends, to see
Raney on Jan. 31. 1878. He found her, he
says sitting in a chair near the stove,
her elbows on her knees, her hands under
her chin, curled up on the chair, staring,
looking every way like an old hag. She
appeared sullen and crabbed, calling her
father “Old Black Dick,” and her mother
‘‘Old Granny.”
She said her name was Katrina Hogan,
that she was 63 years old, that she had
come from Germany through the air three
days before and would stay three weeks.
She denied all this in a few minutes and
■ called herself Willie Canning and gave
a very different account of her move
ments.
When Dr. Stevens ro-e to go she fell In
a state of rigid catalepsy. Dr. Stevens
was a spiritualist, and bellevelng the
girl was controlled by evil spirits he took
her hands in his and In a few minutes
found himself talking with Lurancy Ven
num herseir.
She said she was in heaven, and that
her body was controlled by evil spirits.
The doctor suggested to her that she
should be controlled by some better spir
its, and asked her to select one who would
be willing to do It for her from among
those she sa(w around her. She said
there was one whom the aa&eis Ueslreu
to have come, and who was anxious to
come. Her name was Mary Koff. Mr.
Roff was present, and was delighted to
hear that Mary was coming back to
earth.
The body of Lurancy Vsnnum professed
the next day to tie tenanted by the spirit
of Mary Hoff, and bcgg.d to be allowed
to go home to the Rolfs. But the Ven
nums were far from convinced that the
soul of Mary Hoff had entered Into Luran
cy's body, and, in spite of the girl's en
treaties. they kept her with them.
Mrs. Roff and her daughter. Mrs. Miner
va Alter, went to see the girl about a
week afterward. Lurancy saw them com
ing, recognized them, even calling Mrs.
Alter her sister, and addressing her as
"Nervis," the childhood name. After this
visit her desire to g home to the Roffs
Increased, and at last Mrs. Vennum
yielded to it, and on February 11. 1878, the
girl took up her residence with the. Roffs.
“From this time unwurd," says Dr.
Stevens, "she setned perfectly happy and
content, knowing every person ami every
thing that Mary kn. w when in her orig
inal body from twelve to twenty-five
VLars before, recognizing and calling
by name those whe were friends and neigh
bors of the family from US2 to 186:., when
Mary died, calling attention to hun Irods
of Incidents that transpired during her
natural life.
“During all the period of her sojourn at
Mr. Roffs house she had no knowledge
of and did not recognize any of Mr. Ven*
num’s family, their friends or neighbors,
yet Mr. and Mrs. Vennum and their chil
dren visited her nd Mr. Roff s family,
she being Introduced to her parents as to
any strangers. After frequent visits and
hearing them often and favorably spoken
of she learned to be fond of them as ac
quaintances. and visited them with Mrs.
Roff three times.
“She seemed natural, easy, affable and
lndustrous, attending diligently and faith
fully to her household duties, assisting
Ing in the general work of tne family
as a faithful, prudent daughter might be
supposed to do, singing, reading or talk
ing, as opportunity offered, on all mat
ters of private or general interest to the
family.”
A few Incidents might be related of the
many that convinced Mr. and Mrs. Roff
that the spirit speaking through Lurancy
Vennum’s lips was in reality that of their
lost daughter.
During her life Mary Roff hod known a
woman named Mary Lord, who afterward
married u Mr. Wagner. Meeting her, she
said;
“Oh, Mary Lord, you loook very nat
ural, ami have changed the least of any
one I have seen since I came hack.”
At another time she immediately rec
ognized a Mrs. Parker and her dauglilcr
Nellie, calling them both by nnmo. and
asking them whether they remembered
how she usod to go to their house and
sing. This was twelve years before Lu
rancy Vennum was born.
“At another time,” said Dr. Stevens.
“Mr. Roff was sitting in the room wait
ing for tea and reading tile paper. Mary
being out In the yard. Ho asked Mrs.
Roff if she could find a certain velvet
headdress that Mary used to wear the
year before she died; If so, to lay it on the
stand and say nothing about it. to see If
the girl would recognize It. Mrs. Roff
readily found It and laid it on the stand.
' The girl soon came In, and Imme
daltely exclaimed, as she approached the
stand, ‘Oh, there Is my headdress I wore
when my hair was short.’ She then
asked, ‘Mo, where is my box of letters?
Have you got them yet?’ Mrs. Roff re
plied, ‘Yes, Mary, I have some of them.'
Hho at once got the box with many let
ters in it. As Mary begun to examine
them she said, ‘Here Is a collar I tatted.
Why did you not show me my letters and
things liefore?’ The collar had been pre
served among the relics of the dead child
as one of the things her fingers had
wrought before Lurancy was born; and
so the girl continually recognized every
little thing and remembered every little
Incident of Mary Hoff's girlhood.”
The girl .sent for Mrs. Roff on May 7,
1878, and told her Lurancy Vennum was
coming back for a while. Then she passed
Into a trance and for a few minutes Lu
rancy Vennum controlled the body, ex
pressed her surprise at finding herself In a
strange place and said she could not stay
long enough for her friends to get to her.
Then Mary Roff came back. When
asked bow she felt In her new body, she
said; "When I got Into this body I felt
much as I did when 1 was here twelve
years ago. This body seems as natural
as If I had been born with it, yet I can
not do with it as I should like to.” Bhe
did not seem to realize at first that this
was not her own original physical body,
until the angeis explained it to her and
she had received information and instruc
tion from her parents, sister, brother and
friends about It. natural did it feel to
her, after knowing all the facte, that she
could hardly feel It was not her own body,
born thirty years ago.
At another time Dr. Stevens was talking
with her about her life on earth before,
and she spoke to him spontaneously of
cutting her arm, asking him whether he
had ever seen the sear. He said no. "She
then proceeded to slip up her sleeve," he
says, “as If to exhibit the scar, but sud
denly arrested the movement, us If by a
sudden thought, and quickly said: ‘Oh,
this i not the arm; that one is In the
ground,’ and proceeded to tell where It
was buried, and how she saw it done and
who stood around and how badly they
felt, etc., but she did not feel bad. I heard
her tell Mr. Roff and the friends present,”
continues Dr. Stevens, "how she wrote
to him a message some years ago through
the hand of a medium, giving name, time,
place. Also of rapping and of spelling out
another message by another medium, giv
ing time, name, place, etc., which the par
ents admitted to be true. I heard her re
late a story of her going Into the coun
try with the men, some twenty odd ; ears
ago, after a load of hay, naming incidents
that occurred on the road, which two of
the men distinctly remembered.”
In this curious state the girl remained
unti} May 21. Toward the end of this per
iod she showed from time to time traces
of Lurancy Vennum’s personality, and
throughout It she seemed to possess pow
ers of seeing the unseen and knowing the
unknown that puzzled her friends.
Lurancy took possession of the body
for a wihle on May 19 and Had a talk with
her mother, and on May 21 she announced
that she was going back to heaven about
11 o'clock. She went about bidding all
her friends good-by, asked her mother to
give her little possessions to Lurancy, ami
at about the time predicted all traces of
Mary Hoffs consciousness disappeared
and that of Lurancy Vennum took Its
place. She said she felt as if she had been
asleep. The Roffs took her home. She
met her parents and brothers in a very
affectionate manner, hugging and kissing
each one in tears of gladness.
She has been In good health since then,
and has shown little trace of powers un
known to the ordinary man. She was
married to George Binning, a young
farmer, on Jan. 1, 1882, and in 1881 they
moved to Kansas, where, I believe, they
now live. I)r. Stevens died In 1886.
Who was U that lived with Mr. and Mrs.
Roff during those memorable fourteen
weeks? Was It, indeed, their dead daugh
ter returned to earth? Or waa it Lurancy
Vennum, living fourteen weeks In one
long dream that she was Mary Roff and
that the real Lurancy was In heaven?
And if this was the case, how did she
succeed In convincing Mr. and Mrs. Roff
and all that knew her that she was Mary
Roff? Where did she get all the knowl
edge that she displayed of Mary Kofi’s
former life on earth? Such questions are
more easily asked than answered. Each
must shape his reply to suit his own the
ory of nature and of man.
Do not get the relative value or things
mixed, my son. We would have plenty of
weather even If there were no thermome
ters.—Albany Argus.
ECKSTEIN'S,
I.fcl'ei* Fancy Top Kibhed Ho*e tew 25c
Lodi •' Fancy T*p Kichclieu Hose. 85c
Ladies Fast HlacK Kit* Lisle Hose XV
Indies' Fast Flaclt Best Lisle Hose
Ladies' Fast l lick Cotton Hose '£*c
5,000 Yds. Best Wash Silks,
29c.
Fast Colors. Lovely Styles.
Too h H’-U'-h's .. 10c
Assorted * out Is V
Beat Combs ldc
Flesh Hrufehc* r>c
Nan 11 rushes.... ’S> c
Shoe Brushes 25c
I air Itrushi a ..like
Ho* Lily White . V
infants Ponder. V
i' D Vil. ... I<N!
Gossamer 15c
Lubins Powder 2c
Button Hooks ?c
Match Safes . f*c
Picture ranies .25e
Violet Glasses .5j
Kna/lt'ii St ivers S o
Harmonicas 5o
Witb Raffs
10 \ai ds Diaper.. .45c
Linen Doilies V
lik‘ Doide* at.. . ,5o
20c Doilies at 10c
Stain Bibs 5c
All Our SI.OO Silks Down
69c. ■
Nene Like Them In Savannah.
fa Percales. 4 ■
It a ’un*s 5c
Sea islands V
Th Inga % Bo
1 i oy Salines 6c
f ren h Flannels tOe
Now heriots 12c
New <’r*pons I.V
Pru tod P. K.. .. 15c
Lace S rim* he
i r i psry Plrint ? 8e
New Cretonnes.... 12c
Banniln Laces .. . 2c
Barham i slices 5c
Bargain Lin es.. . 10c
Liu roldcries 8c
Km in Iderl
Kin! rotderlos 10c
Em) rofdet In it e
Kmnroideriss 25c
1; and Kerchiefs. 8c
H..nT erchiefs 5c
Ham.kerchief* 10c
Hun ikerchiefs 150
The Latest Creations In
enEPos^s
And New Dress Goods.
Black Surah.. ... 50c
Colored Surah 50c
Colored Xitlns 500
Colored Chins 500
Fancy India* 50c
Black tiro* Grain Mio
Dress Good* 12 *
Dress Goods 15c
Diets Goods ihc
Dress Goods 25c
Dress Goods 80c
Dress Goods 4Uc
Polished Pencils...to
Senator Pencil* ...4c
lnde. little Pencils.. 6c
C dir )’m ils, do/, ,5c
Ptuln and r* 2c
Blank Looks 6o
2' small Em elopes 2o
25 large Lnv 1 pen Ho
2ft square F.nvelopesV
l*o hefts Note... 150
Plain S ate* 3c
Covered Slates 7c
Gustave Eckstein & Cos.
uailruaull —3
Plant System
6 THROUGH TRAINS DAILY
TT O F'LORIOA.
CHOICE OF TWO ROUTEB
To FLORIDA and CUBA.
Vhi tlii' Great Welt Count Kiprcim and Via .fai-knotivllle.
Three ships between TOUT TAMPA. KKY WENT and HAVANA every week.
One ship between POUT TAMI*A and MOlfllsf; every weelf
THREE CHEAT
WEST COAST HOTELS,
Owned and Operated by the Plant System.
TAMPA HAY HOTEL, Tampa. Fla.
THE INIC Ti.rl T.mp.'.El..
—nr "fi .-.w , ,
S ‘ ——— [
THF SEMINOLE. Winter Park. Fla.
THE FINEST FISH NC AND BOATING IN THE WOULD.
Flectrlc. Naphtha and Steam Launches. The Three Groat Hotels are under the nersonal
management of Mr. J. H. Kin#.
All PassenKvr Trains enter enclosure of the great Tampa bay Hotel, obviating transferal
passenger*and baggage.
Jh. A. AKM AND, Ticket Agent, l)e Soto Hotel.
B. W. WKBNN, Passenger Traffic Manager, Savannah,
PRY ciiomi.
Infants' Fa**t Tan Half Hose 200
Infants' W hits Lisle Half Hose £Sc
Infants' P.nk and Blue Lr e Socks- 25c
Infants Fast i lick Lace S k* 250
Infanta’ Fa>t Black Lula docks 250
Tooth Powder 17c
Pomade Va eline 4c
Machine * I :to
Witch i a el 10c
Pony Ray Hum ...HD
Florida Water 10c
Mucilage .... 5c
( O Idyl ,\ • i I .*r
Kau dc'Juinine .Ike.
Kloimnnd * uinlnc.iac
Triple K tract .85c
Imported Lay ft urn 19c
Bed Damasks ... .30b
1 1 teu Scarfs UH*>
Linen Scarf* :u*o
Linen Scarfs JHIc
f 1.50 Umbrellas Oto
l ine Suaponc.e s if.Sc
Outing shirts lac
White Shirts 29c
Under hirts . . ..She
Drill I v avers , 25c
Silk W n l or* 26c
Funcy c niils 75c
Brass Thimbles . 1o
Hick Hock go
Crochet Needles
Dozen Marbles fttr
Pins and Cushion .60
Bachelor But o.is 7o
Crochet Cot*ons .. 5o
500 yards .Spools . 5c
141 Shirt Huttons .f c
h e aher tlteh u* H e
De . ouk Hooks vE.tOo
Hose Supporters 150
11
IT low < MSI 00
* • ady Made sheets SBe
K ufly.Ma* e *hects49c
i. m*ti ih dabeetsgffc
Fast Black 110 • 5c
25c H a k Hose... 15c
15 Wn'* Socks . ho
( hi Id * Vents .. tfto
Boys’Vest* 25c
Ladle* Kib Yets. ICo
Ladle*' Bib Vests tfto
Ladies' Kib Vests 200
srtc form* 88c
75c For .sets 50c
f 1 Corsets 7So
K. a <4.Corsets 76c
Fund satchel*.. SBo
Pocket l ooks .. .25c
Pockethnokrt 500
shoe Polish 8c
Sweet Soups 5c
Sweet So.ipi, 100
Sweet Soap* Ukj
Windsor fcioap .. 200
Paris Linings ... ,10c
Grass Cloth tsso
Haircloth .120
Hulr Cloth 18c
ll.ilr Cloth .. go
Hair Cloth 600
Haircloth 60a
lloun ('using Isa
Scum Binding.... 15a
(1 Kid olavas 50a
II 27. Kid I.loves 736
3 Kid Gloves 1134