&J Ti'l *-D 
14 
SEARCHING FOR LIGHT. 
Thk torch were rod at tUe window. 
And sweet with the rald-Muy weather. 
And clone t" the bloom. Inside o’ the room, 
8nt mother arid child together; 
And the mot her wn* rocking the babe on her heart, 
And they both were rocked together. 
And soft through the curtain of roses, 
Which the roses could not smother, 
A beam of light, all golden white, 
Cumo Into the child and the mot her— 
Came tenderly in through the tender leaves, 
A-kissIng the child and the mother! 
And the child was os fair as a picture 
That Is painted in fairy story ; 
And he opened his eyes in a glad surprise, 
A-seelng the wonderful glory— 
Opened bis baby and beautiful eyes, 
A-seeing the wonderful glonr ! 
“ ’Tis a wing of gold in the roses," 
Thought he—“ it can’t be no other;’’ 
And with hand so white ho caught at the light, 
Then held it wide to Its mother, 
And the tears said plain as tears could say, 
“Ah! where is it gone, my mother V” 
And the May-times came and faded. 
One iday-timo after the Other, 
And a stalwart man, all brown with tan. 
And fur from the lap of hi* mother. 
Was he that had wept for the vanished light. 
In the rosy house with hi#mother! 
fie had sailed and sailed the ocean. 
And had roamed the world for treasure, 
And with main and might had sought the light, 
The light of unlading pleasure ; 
And now he was old, and he said to his heart, 
" I have got me no sure pleasure.” 
For still it had fluttered before him, 
A* still be had striven to gather, 
From sea and land, the light In his hand ; 
And his cry was now, “ My Father! 
It i* all with Thee, beyond life’s Mai¬ 
lt Is all with Thee, my Father !” 
fAlice Carey. 
A/jjS evo 
(Stories for ilnra lists. 
tjb C S 
HOW I WAS ENAMELED. 
A REMARKABLE CONFESSION FOR A 
WOMAN TO MAKE. 
BY MINT WOOD. 
I’ve kept l be affair a profound secret for 
more tlmn a year, partly to see if I could, 
and partly because I’ve no knack for story 
telling. To tell a story, in a fascinating and 
profitable (pecuniary) manner, tlte narrator 
must place the gist, or kernel, far enough 
away, so that distance will find enchant¬ 
ment to the view, and approach the myste¬ 
rious secret by a series of artistic and mean¬ 
dering pallia. 
So I know I never was horn for a story¬ 
teller, as I like to have people walk straight 
into the heart, of the matter at once; talk 
just as fast as they can, leaving out all su¬ 
perfluities, and never stopping to breathe 
until the secret is unfolded. After that, they 
can enlarge upon details at their pleasure. 
But for this once, as I have such a thrilling 
and unique subject, and every word of half 
of it as true as you live. I’m going to make 
the most of it, and essay to narrate it in an 
artistic and professional manner, and there¬ 
by establish a reputation that will be utterly 
prejudiced to any and all other story-wri¬ 
ters who make the Bubal New-Yorker 
their stage of action. 
One rainy morning in the month of May, 
while dallying over mutton-chops and fried 
potatoes at the breakfast table in my board¬ 
ing house, and glancing at intervals over 
the columns of the New York Herald, 
which was regularly served at my right for 
the benefit of my neighbor (a bachelor sea 
captain, who was as wicked as lie was gal¬ 
lant,) in\ eyes (el! upon the following adver¬ 
tisement. which 1 read aloud : 
■ To rat; i.adies, M. Bin a co Dikes Inflnlte no¬ 
ught In tinin>iiti"lti;« to tin- I mill's that ufltM' I'l'C'iit 
n .iublo iiu.t (!xpOio*o, ho i* prepare! to use In the 
most obiirmlns manner, the new Fremli Enamel lor 
beautifying the emnphouon. Tin* preparation is 
purely vegetable, emit anting nothing tlelotereius to 
the skin, but in rantn,ire, soften*, bi'antlth** ami 
rentiers it brilliant and remarkable. M. Binacd 
also trims theevobrntvs anti eyehnlins In a irnml ar¬ 
tistic manner. Lmliea im.tr fool assured that all eou- 
fldencoH will he regm-den with sacred honor. Call 
upon, or address M. IlINAUD.5,550 Broadway.'' 
A respectful silence ensued alter I finished. 
Then I he hostess spoke: — “It must he 
French enamel Hint makes women’s faces I 
see on the street; they look so like china 
dolls.’’ 
“I think‘the Bloom of Youth 1 imparts 
that complexion,” was announced by a 
somewhat passee lady, who tried to speak 
unconsciously. Perhaps I shouldn’t have 
noted the consciousness, if Dinah hadn’t 
left her coal scuttle standing in the hall one 
morning with refuse bottles In it. 
“ Now that the advertisement has been cir¬ 
culated at, table, 1 suppose we shall soon 
have an ocular demonstration of its beautify¬ 
ing effects,” was the captain’s comment, as 
lie embraced his huge moustache with his 
napkin. 
“ Possibly, I’ve been told that barbers and 
hair-dressers tempt their patrons with hot- 
tied beauty, and that men, in addition to 
having hair and moustaches artistically 
trimmed, emerge divinely radiant, and utter¬ 
ly without wrinkle or blemish on their manly 
faces,” parried a bright girl down the table. 
“Mademoiselle be sarcastique,” bowed a 
Frenchman opposite. “ In Paris ze ladies 
be enatneeled for six month, or a year. In¬ 
deed, we hardly know what ze true Skeen 
may be.” 
“ It is wearing a mask, indeed,” vouch¬ 
safed the captain. “ Such a very comforta¬ 
ble feeling must be produced by having the 
skin held in restriction by the repeated lay¬ 
ers of plaster ol Paris! But I suppose com¬ 
fort, or even cleanliness, is at a discount 
with a woman if she is on the alert for 
beauty. I speak truth, do I not?” address¬ 
ing his last, remark to me. 
“I suppose you can,” I replied, “although 
I don’t indorse all this talk about white¬ 
washed faces. But this advertisement not 
only intimates and suggests, but really con¬ 
firms suspicions 1 have secretly harbored 
against women, I would so much like to 
know if such advertising charlatans are 
patronized by really respectable women !” 
“I haven’t a doubt of it,” blurted out 
Anaximander, over the top of bis Sun. lie 
had a way of saying tilings that settled all 
further questioning with timid people. Bui 
1 was not settled so easily, and if inwardly 
convinced, would not have succumbed after 
hearing his remark. Some people, you 
know, cause us to run up the flag of nega¬ 
tion without our knowing why, If we ana¬ 
lyze the feeling, we sometimes find it is be¬ 
cause they have such an egotistic assurance 
of always being right in their judgments and 
inferences; and you feel willing to spite 
yourse!f considerably in order to put a dis¬ 
count upon their assertions. 
“ You can easily sat isfy yourself,” lie con¬ 
tinued in that dreadfully assured manner ol' 
his, “ by calling at the establishment,” 
“ Oh ! but l couldn’t do that! 1 should 
want to he muffled and masked and go in a 
close carriage, and after dark at that," upon 
which I led the table, and the matter Avas 
never again referred to, and like the multi¬ 
tude of daily events that ripple the present 
surface, was forgotten and out of mind by 
the next morning. 
It might have been a week later; at all 
events it was nearly June, and I was saunter¬ 
ing along Broadway. It was hot, and I Avas 
tired and oppressed with tlie languor of the 
spring days, and Avith that sort of sluggish 
nervousness that succeeds overwork, when 1 
would have given my best dress to have 
fallen strait into an easy chair and have 
Mercy run her fingers through my hair and 
brush and comb and cool the tangled, heated 
and largely curling heap of it, that s’he called 
yellow, but Avliich Hie boys said a van “ mail¬ 
ing only toA\ r .” But Mercy was up in 
Maine, Avhere it Avas cold and where she 
might that very moment- have dipped her 
fingers in snow to cool my eye lids, had I 
been there. 
I looked across the street and read, 
“HAIR DRESSING IN ALL ITS BRANCHES.” 
“LADIKS llAIlt OltESSING A SBKCIAI/TY." 
1 made a decision at once and followed it 
into the ■establishment. 1 didn’t expect, to 
find Mercy’s cool fingers or sympathetic, 
restful touches; but I was not so squeamish 
as to Vo miserable Avith even a great man 
pawing over my head, as the delight of hav¬ 
ing my hair dressed is the chiofest of sen¬ 
suous enjoyment. 1 mention this, because it, 
is an undisputed fact, that people so consti¬ 
tuted possess an angelic disposition ; and as 
it is the only evidence 1 have of being angelic, 
of course I am to be pardoned for keeping it 
fresh in my mind. 
It was a lazy time with the establishment, 
evidently, for one lady only was present and 
she Avas being finished off in a little side 
room by the “ artistic” member of the staff, 
who was a keen eyed, handsome, middle- 
aged fellow and had the social and persuasive 
traits well developed, according to Foavler 
and Wells. 
After seating myself in the “ tonsorial ” 
chair, the “ artistic ” member looked me 
over and gave the attending barber some 
directions how to proceed and arrange the 
hair, and occasionally looked in upon the 
work to see Iioav it progressed. After the 
hair was dressed, I a van shown into the 
“finishing” room, where the “artist” in¬ 
spected the work and remedied any defects 
that offended his taste. After pronouncing 
the hair “splendid,” the color “ charming,” 
and the effect of its arrangement so “ lovely,” 
and betraying by his accent a French 
brogue, lie looked in my face in a most ad¬ 
miring manner and said, in a Ioav tone, 
“ Mademoiselle, may I tell you what I 
should so much like to do ? ” 
“ Like to do! ” 1 hadn’t the vaguest idea 
Avliat the fellow meant or wanted. I didn’t 
know Avhcther to feel insulted and resent 
the affront, by taking French leave, or an¬ 
nihilating him with a volley of words and 
looks. Was he about to propose marriage, 
or murderV or strike a bargain for my hair? 
My mind touched on a dozen things, but 
caught at nothing. 
“ It would make you look so lovely! ” lie 
continued, “ with vour purple eyes and yel¬ 
low hair; everybody on Broadway Avould 
turn to look at you. You would have a 
dozen admirers socking your smiles before 
the end of the day.” 
“ What do you mean, sir? 1 don’t want 
people to stare at me, nor have a crowd of 
witless admirers,” I had the grace given me 
to say. 
“ I mean just this, mademoiselle:—I have 
a harmless preparation which upon being 
applied to the face-” 
At this moment my eyes encountered a 
gilded placard quite opposite me with 
to get away from that immediate neighbor¬ 
hood, and walked straight, into Anaximan- 
“ French enamel, as used by the ladies of der’s arms. The collision brought us both 
the French Court, for sale here. M. Binaud,” to our senses. He has a habit of always 
and in astonishment I interrupted him with: looking at the end of his nose when he 
“And are you M. Binaud? and do you walks. I suppose he fancies it gives him a 
enamel Avomeu’s faces, and trim their eye- thoughtful air, and I think it does, 
brows and lashes? and is this 5,550 Broad- “Why, bless you, child! What are you 
av v» doing away up here this hot clay? And 
“Yes, miss. A great many ladies come you are as white as a ghost with flushed 
>re to be enameled, and sometimes their cheeks, and your eyes are fire! What—” 
way?” 
here to be enameled, and sometimes their 
husbands come with them." 
“ But doesn’t it ruin the complexion ?” 
“No, it improves it, and makes an old 
person look very young. Your face would 
not need much, but where there are wrinkles 
and ridges to fill up and make smooth, it 
requires much more. You do not use cos¬ 
metics, 1 observe, but 1 could improve you 
so much; give your eyes a peculiar bril¬ 
liancy by darkening the eyelids, making the 
lashes look heavier, and darkening and 
arching the eyebrows.” Then, as if ob¬ 
serving my Avaut ol faith, be continued : 
“You could be enameled for only a day, 
and see Iioav you like it., Miss. Do you go 
out tins evening ?” 
“ Yes, )i shall attend an Art Reception for 
an hour or so. Hoav much do you charge 
for performing such magical results?” 
“ There are my charges,” and he handed 
me a printed circular, and 1 read, “ For 
once enameling, five dollars; for six months, 
one hundred dollars; for one year, one hun¬ 
dred and seventy-five dollars.” 
Here, without any preconcerted action on 
my part, the knowledge I had been anxious 
to obtain was drifting upon me. Curiosity 
avus strong Avithi'i me, but could I afford, 
financially or morally, to give five dollars 
for something at once so antagonistic to my 
principles, as avcII as so useless? I decided 
no, said so and arose to go. The artist de¬ 
tained me with— 
“ I am sony, Miss, you think you cannot 
afford it, Avhon it would make you look so 
very distingue. May 1 ask what Mademoiselle 
docs with her lime?” 
“ Yes; I’ve spent part of it in idle talk 
here with you. I may spend to-morrow in 
writing somethiug for newspapers.” 
• “ Oh, you are what is sometimes called 
a blue stocking, then, and you write." 
Do you know the lady on the Triumph 
who writes of fashion and other things so 
charmingly ? I enameled her face the other 
day, and she Avtts so elegant! 8he is agent, 
too, for the preparation, and makes a fine 
profit. Sl\e recoinnicbd* it to her fashion 
readers. Couldn’t you do so, too, Miss?” he 
insinuated. 
“ I couldn’t recommend anything I know 
nothing about," I answered, feeling dread¬ 
fully uncomfortable under bis talk, but en¬ 
during it all for the sake of the gossip that 
would leak out 
“ Now, Miss, 1 tell you what I Avill do. 
You interest me so very much, and I should 
so much like to see the effect, that I av i 11 
enamel your face and prepare your eyes for 
nothing. It will take but a few moments. 
Sit down in this chair.” 
1 sat down—perfectly astonished at my¬ 
self—to be enameled, in broad daylight, 
with neither veil, mask or carriage lo hide 
my head in, and with plenty of people to 
see that afternoon. 
The artist laid my hair smoothly back 
from my face, rubbed off the surface with a 
soft flannel cloth, and was about to use a 
pair of scissors on my eyelashes and eye 
brows. 
“ No, sir! you shall do nothing that I can¬ 
not undo the next minute, if 1 like. The 
metamorphosis shall only he of the most 
temporary character,” 1 exclaimed earnestly. 
“As you wish, Miss; but you are the 
loser,” and he proceeded. A sponge was 
saturated with the liquid enamel, and a 
coating applied to my face,care oeing taken 
to apply it avcII about the nose, chin and 
eyes. He then proceeded to fan me. as n 
drying off’ process, After being dried, lie 
applied a white powder, Avliich lie carefully 
rubbed on, Avith the same care as the liquid. 
With a black pigment lie deepened the 
color of the eyebrows, and with a very nar¬ 
row brush dipped in black, made a row of 
tiny black dots around tlie edge of the un¬ 
der eyelid, and was it belladonna lie dropped 
in the faintest bit? For the pink tinge on 
the cheeks and lips, it might have been 
scented carmine. After repeated finishing 
touches, and critical viewing, he handed me 
a small mirror with the exultant exclama¬ 
tion, “ Now, just look at yourself.” 
1 Avas obliged to confess that the artist 
had done himself great credit, in transform¬ 
ing an ugly thing into one of apparent 
beauty; and it gave him courage to make a 
further proposition, Avliich was, that for $10 
lie would give me all the necessary prepara¬ 
tions for “ putting up ” my face for ten years 
—an offer, of course which he would not 
make another woman in the world! 
I declined the offer Avith thanks. I knew 
by illustration the potent, power that sur¬ 
rounds temptation done up in bottles. I lmd 
rather spend $10 for carriage hire out. on the 
Bloomingdtde road. I put on my hat and 
passed out ou Broadway. I walked rapidly 
“Oh, isn’t, it enough to make the blood 
leave my face and curdle iu spots, to run 
right into a man, and that man you ? But 
I’m in a& awful hurry. Good-bye”—and I 
sped away to prevent auy lasting impres¬ 
sion being taken. 
Impudent starers as NeAV Yorkers are, 
they seemed to have grown in the art with¬ 
in a day. The men would halt turn around 
for a second look, and then giggle in a Avay 
which didn’t, signify much pro nor con. The 
women eyed me in their side-long care¬ 
ful way, and would nudge each other to 
look. I must have felt very much as the 
cat did with the canister tied to its tail. I 
had not gone far before I met Charles 
Hoyt, an artist avIio had once made a 
sketch of me for my hair. 
“ Indeed, Miss Vance,” he exclaimed en¬ 
thusiastically aficr the first greeting was 
over, “ this Hot weather must, agree Avith you. 
You are looking actually charming. Have 
you been falling in love ? I’ve heard say 
that calamity lias a wonderfully beautifying 
effect,” And all the time lie was looking 
strait into my eyes, and how could he help 
seeing the blackened lids, and guess out the 
rest? 1 felt like confessing on the spot, and 
telling him 1 Avas not myself, but a painted, 
enameled humbug, my face a mask, my eyes 
a touch of black pigment around pansies, 
made brilliant Avith a drop of belladona, and 
my yellow hair a borrowed wig! But I 
didn’t confess; and after getting away from 
his ardent gaze, bailed the first coach that 
was Avheeling homeward, feeling that the 
security of a Broadway omnibus would be 
grateful. It was five o’clock and business 
men were going home, and the coach Avas 
nearly full of them. I looked at nobody, un¬ 
til 1 wanted some one to hand up my fare. 
When two or three gentlemen extended their 
courtesy, I mechanically accepted that of the 
one opposite me, and looked in his eyes to 
thank him. Ilia,face "’as a very comfortable 
one, sound and hearty, and rollicking fun 
brimmed over in ills eyes. Human faces 
i have a fascination for me, that even ugliness 
cannot destroy, and 1 often find myself 
studying a face with a steady intensity that 
is not only ill-mannered but ignorantly rude. 
But during ibis ride 1 had no such an op¬ 
portunity, for look where 1 might, a battery 
of eyes was making close work with my 
own head and face, and conscious of the 
cause, I was humiliated into internal male¬ 
dictions and voAved self destruction if ever 
again I Avas guilty of being so tricked out. 
A passenger in the end of the seat next the 
door, read a newspaper by spasms and I took 
enough, and foolish enough to be thoroughly 
interested. But what Avould Anaximander 
say if he knew it ? He had a few gray hairs 
about his temples, and so exercised the self- 
conceded right to give me gratuitous advice, 
and had announced in his peculiar way that 
he should take me with him to the recep¬ 
tion, and of course I must go, that Broad- 
Avay omnibus villain to the contrary, uot- 
Avithstanding. 
Tn the course of the enameling process, 
the artist had remarked, “ If you are in a 
boarding bouse, it would be well for you to 
go away for a day or two, in case you Avere 
going to be heavily enameled. The im¬ 
provement in looks might then be attributa¬ 
ble to other circumstances.” 1 saw the 
point, and so ordered my tea sent up, and 
saw no one until Anaximander sent for 
me. He eyed me critically, as usual. 
“ You are transfigured to-night, somehow ! 
else 1 don’t see clearly. Is it you, indeed, or 
have you shed your outer self, as a snake 
does, and now appear in your spiritual 
body?” he said warmly. 
“ If I’ve lost anything, there seems to be a 
gain, temporary at least. But you shouldn’t 
make personal comments. My transfigura¬ 
tion is undoubtedly a reflection from you— 
a remnant of what I caught Avben 1 rushed 
against you on Broadway to-day,” Avas my 
quieting reply. 
The crowd Avas a crush, and’the band was 
crushing Offenbach’s wicked music, Avhile 
In the midst of it Ave found a temporary re¬ 
treat in a niche by a statue and Avatehed the 
pronienaders, avIio followed in the crowd 
round and round, in Hie usual automatic, 
sheep and-bar manner. A sense of pres¬ 
ence rather than of touch caused me to look 
around. My “ newspaper” man stood near 
me, in the uniform of the TJ. S. A., as calm 
and self-possessed as if nothingbad occurred. 
“ I bej^your pardon, sir,” (he was address¬ 
ing Anaximander,) “ hut I would like a few 
moments conversation with yon.” 
My heart jumped into my throat and 
thumped there the brief time the two men 
talked. The murder Avas surely coming out, 
and Avhat would Anaximander say? I felt 
like running away,’getting rid of myself, of 
them all. Anaximander turned half fiercely 
at me, and I must have fainted, although 1 
never did, really; but I felt very curious 
and insecure, and half on earth and half in 
Heaven like ; and there seemed to be a dem¬ 
and some one knocking, and I thought it 
must be Death, and felt so cold, and couldn’t 
say come in; but be came in all the same, 
and handed me a card and said, “ What 
shall 1 tell him?” And then ii grinned and 
reckoned I’d been asleep, and said my fire 
was Ioav, and that the “ oftisah ” down stairs 
was “mighty fine lookin’,” and after a long 
breath or two, 1 begun to understand that IV 
been dreaming, and wasn’t enameled at all, 
but thought it a strange coincidence that the 
card Dinah brought should have been that 
ol' my cousin, Captain Vance, of the Regu¬ 
lars. 
The reason of my writing this avus the 
refuge in looking at him. His face was of result ol my seeing my enameled eounter- 
that exceedingly rare type—one that never part on Broadway to-day. She had pale 
fails to interest me beyond all others, sug- yellow hair, violet, velvety eyes, and was 
guesting more than its surface reveals. His 
dress was jaunty and careless enough to suit 
a poet, and his eyes, nose and mouth, indi¬ 
cated strength and shrewdness enough for the 
best business talent in Chicago. In brief, if 
any one at my elbow had asked me how I 
liked that man in the corner, I should have 
answered without hesitation “I like him. He 
isn’t one to hang his heart, his brain, or his 
profession out of the window.” 
Looking at him I half forgot my enameled 
face, until straight in my eyes he turned his 
own, anil by some legerdemain of psycholo¬ 
gy, held my gaze like a mesmerizer. The 
spell was broken by t he entrance of another 
passenger, avIio sal down next to me. I 
kept my eyes to myself the rest of the ride, 
and when i arose to leave the coach there 
was a breeze of destruction, for the gentle¬ 
man who lasl entered had sat on the trim¬ 
ming of my sacque, and as I arose nearly 
a yard of guipure lace was lorn and de¬ 
tached. Of course he was “ very sorry,” and 
I’m very sure I avus; but the gentleman in 
the corner got out too, helped me to alight, 
handed me his newspaper, and resumed his 
seat in I he. ’bus. 
There seemed to be no end of adventures 
that afternoon, and the gift of the newspaper 
Avas quite as odd as any. It meant some¬ 
thing, I knew, and nothing good I felt, for I 
lmd on an enameled face. 
With a night key I let myself in, and once 
reaching my room Avent straight to the mir¬ 
ror to view myself. 1 remained in statu quo, 
just as I left M. Binaud’ s, fair as a lily and 
as delicately fresh looking as a Avild rose. 
The loveliness of enamel is something not 
to he conveyed by words, nor isthchidcons- 
ness its use produces. 
1 took up the newspaper, and pencil Avrit- 
ing on the margin arrested my eyes and my 
pulses, “ Be at the Art Reception to-night : 
'tin'll avail you much." 
It was either romantic or disreputable, or 
both. It was almost as bad as being found 
iu the Herald’s personals. But I was human 
enameled so beautifully that I stopped stock 
still to admire the excellence of the art. She 
stood cm a corner talking with a gentleman, 
and all the passing throng turned to look at 
her and nudge each other, just as they did 
because of me in my dream ; and I drew a 
sigh of relief that 1 had neither yellow hair 
nor violet eyes. 
If you don’t like the ending of my story, 
you can leave off where I felt so faint at the 
Arl Reception, and have the handsome man 
in uniform catch me before I fell, and how 
he turned out to be a full General, with a 
foreign appointment, and that I staid enam¬ 
eled forever, and Avore satin dresses, with 
immense trails; and that he, like all dutiful 
husbands, carried it. on bis arm, when the 
croAvd at art receptions and military halls 
made it advisable, just as a man did at the 
last Seventh Regiment promenade. 
-- 
Mind Your Own Business. 
Leigh Hunt had an uncle avIio was very 
wealthy and meddlesome. Every one knows 
Avhat an idler poor Leigh was in his youth, 
and Iioav very improvident in money mat¬ 
ters. His old uncle came to him one clay 
and said: 
“Ah, Leigh! Iioav do you do, Leigh? 
What are you doing now, Leigh?” 
“I am not doing anything,” answered 
Hunt. 
“ What I” exclaimed the other, “haven’t 
you got anything to do yet?" 
“ No, hut as you don’t seem to mind your 
own business, you ought to employ me to do 
it for you. That would keep me pretty well 
engaged, I fancy." 
Hoav Lord ltuSfhm Lost nu Arm. 
Lord Raglan, says a French paper bad 
only one arm-the right-mid this w how 
he lost, the other;—“He avus engaged to bo 
married, and departed for Waterloo, wear¬ 
ing on a finger of his left hand sou anneav 
,f,P fianceviUes, (his “ engaged ring.”) A shot 
took off his arm, Avhen, turning 10 bis ala- 
de-camp, lie said, uvec ce beau sangfroid, 
which he exhibited later at Inkernmnn, Go 
and look for my ring.’ ” 
m 
