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Ashburton Guardian, Volume I, Issue 10, 18 October 1879, Page 3

Another Buonaparte Romance. Writing from London to the New York Times, Grace Greenwood, the well-known authoress, says ; A strange rumor has been for some time afloat in London, and I now find it given with considerable circumstantiality, if not substantiation, in the Paris Figaro. It is no less than the statement that the late Prince Imperial left a wife—a beautiful young English girl, whom he had privately married, and had installed with her baby and nurse in a retired furnished house in Bath. It is stated that when about to depart for Africa he placed his wife and child under the special care of a Catholic priest, to whom he was only known as an officer in the English artillery, and to whom he said that grave family reasons hindered him from applying to any other friend, and even from revealing his real name. This priest frequently visited his charge, and happened to be present when the poor young woman received the news of the death of the Prince Imperial, at which she fainted. From this, and her great distress afterwards, he was led to divine her secret,, and his suspicions were confirmed by hearing that the lady actually went to Chislehurst at once, and made desperate but vain efforts to obtain an interview with the Empress. Should this romantic story prove true—and what romance need surprise us where a Buonaparte is concerned ?—there is another Prince Imperial, there is another lease of shadowy life for the Empire, of shadowy regency for the Empress ; and it would bring surcease to the agony of indecision from which Prince Jerome is silently suffering. A young negro bootblack observed a neighbor poring wisely over a newspaper, whereupon he addressed him thus : “Julius, what are you doing at dat newspaper? you can’t read.” “Go away,” cried the other indignantly, “guess I can read; I’se big enuff for that.” “Big enuft',” retorted the other, scornfully, “ dat ain’t nuffin. A cow’s big enufl to to catch mice, but she can’t. ”