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Globe, Volume III, Issue 223, 25 February 1875, Page 3

Prince Nicholas Borolajovsk, a Servian noble, died the other day in the Rue d’Amsterdam in Paris. He had been obliged to leave his own country, where he could no longer remain from the idea among the country people that he belonged to a family of vampires, the eldest sons of which for three generations came out of their graves to suck the blood of living people. It is said that live days before his death he was conversing with his landlord, and told him that it would be well after his decease to remove his heart, so as to prevent his rising from the grave. The other night the Paris police on the Rue Nationale came on their rounds to a man who had been thrown down by a dog, which bit him when he tried to rise. Having got the dog off with some trouble, they found that the man had under his blouse a piece of bacon weighing some 201 b, and an assortment of sausages, which he admitted having stolen from a provision shop. He had kept the dog quiet by throwing him pieces of meat, but as soon as he got out the dog followed him and knocked him down. He was taken to the station, while the dog, well satisfied with his own work, went home wagging his tail. An employe in the French Courts, says the Semaine des Families , asked half-a-dozen friends to dinner and gave them choice edibles and exquisite wines, served with all desirable appurtenances in plate and crystal. But there was something in the steelware which shocked everybody like a false note in music. The joints were carved with a butcher’s knife, the partridge with a hunting knife, the guests were provided with dagger knives, and the desert was helped with a razor. When an explanation was at length asked it turned out that the host had collected the cutlery during thirty years of connection with criminal affairs, and that every article represented an assassination which had been dealt with during that period. The explanation ended the reunion, much to the surprise of the collector, who had intended to give his friendstreat. A South Bytield man bought a new frockcoat the other day. It had a velvet collar, and he paid twenty-eight dollars for it, the South Byficld man did. He brought it home and put it on, just to break it in, and sat down to his accounts. He spread himself out over the table, and went to work. Ilia wife said that she was going out to make a call, and he might come for her about 10 o’clock p.rn, The South Byfield man had liia books and papers sprawled all over the table, and his wife asked him if lie wouldn’t like to have the other leaf turned up, and he thought that, on the whole, he would. His wife turned up tire leaf, and it caught the sleeve of his new frock coat that cost twentyeight dollars, and nipped it as in a r ice. His wife had been gone about three minutes when the South Bylield man essayed to move his arm; but he couldn’t move his arm, as the sleeve of that new frock coat that cost twenty-eight dollars was caught fast in the leaf of the table. The South Byfield man tried to reach the brace that held up the leaf, to turn it back, but he couldn't reach it ; then he tried to kick, but he couldn’t kick it; it wouldn’t do to pull himself free, for it would tear the coat that cost him twenty-eight dollars. So he waited, that South Bayfield man did, also his wife waited—waited till 10, till 11, till half-past 11, and then the gentleman of the house vent home with her—and—here wc draw the curtain.