TABLE TALK.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 462, 12 April 1890, Page 5

TABLE TALK.

(FROM OUR LONDON CORRESPONDENT.) London, February 22. A FATAL INDISCRETION. Tho stories about Lefroy and Samson in Montague Williams’ book havo naturally led to°tho revival in club smoking-rooms and at dinner parties of a lot of gossip about those worthies. A barrister (now an eminent Q.C.) related a strange incident in connection with the Samson tragedy at the Savile Club last Sunday. This worthy medico, you may remember, was hanged for poisoning his step-brother (who adored bin*) by inserting aconitine in a plum cake. The speaker held a brief as junior counsel (I think ho said) for the defence, and interviewed Dr. Samson. The prisoner was very shrewd and soon made out a strong case for himself. Counsel, in fact, wound up a long talk thus : “ Well, Doctor, I think wo shall do. If the poison was given in the cako how did it get thero ? for the cake was bought in Wimbledon a short time before and was uncut.” Then Samson’s overweening conceit undid him. Leaning forward with glittering oyes he hoarsely whispered, “Couldn’t a plum be taken out of tho top of the cake, the poison inserted and the plum returned to its place? I think it could.” There was a long pause during which Samson (conscious now of a terrible indiscretion) burned white, and the young counsel felo speechless with surprise, leaving at last with the significant words “ A dangerous thought that, Doctor,” he retired. Next morning the solicitors for the defence wore surprised to receive an intimation from the young man that he could have nothing more to do with the case. “Has Samson confessed?” they asked. “ Certainly not,” replied tho barrister ; “bub I’ve taken a dislike to the man, and I fear I might show it.” At the trial it was obvious that the prosecution had somehow discovered the truth. Whether they did so accidentally, or whether, as fcho narrator always fancied, a warder whem Samson had his back to and who opened the door of the glass consulting cage to signal time was up, heard the conceited fool’s words (or part of them), no one knows. In all probability, however, that moment of fatuous vanity cost Samson his life. A NEW THOUGHT-READER.

A new thought-reader has made his appearance in London society whose achievements far outvie the moat daring things attempted by Stuart Cumberland, Irving Bishop and Co. This is a highly nervous looking young Russian, a Dr. Onofroff, who was brought up in Italy and hails last from Rome. His quickness is extraordinary, and he appears to be able to read the thoughts of average folk without even touching them. At the opening seance, Mr Terry, the actor, was selected by a highly sceptical and critical audionco to be operated on. The doctor asked him to think of four numbers, to write them on a card without showing them to anyone and to placo tho card in some secure placo about his porson. The actor did this with great, care, enclosing the card in two envelopes before relegating it to a formidable note case in an inside pocket. Dr. Onofroff then took a chalk and blackboard, and gazing hard at Terry asked him to think of the first of the four numbers. Tho doctor’s hand hovered uncertainly over the board for about ten or twelve seconds, after which lie wrote a number. This was repeated four times, and in each case (as the card duly proved) correctly. Once the young man was (or seemed) obliged to touch Mr Terry in order to confirm bis impression, but generally a keen glance sufficed. Other well-known people (quite above suspicion of collusion) were experimented on and nearly always without contact. At the end of the evening (or rather in an hour or so) the doctor showed alarming signs of fatigue, and that his end will bo similar to Irving Bishop’s seems only too likely. DEATH OF Mr JOE BIGG A R. The awfully sudden death of poor old Joe Biggar removes from tho House of Commons one of its most striking personalities. Malformed, uncouth and uneducated, Mr Biggar was, nevertheless, the most powerful member of the Home Ruie party next to Parnell himself. Hi 3 brother Irishmen feared, sometimes disliked, but always respected him. His extraordinary earnestness (the intensity of which was almost appalling) ensured this. Woe betide the patriot who failed to be in time to vote when Biggar was whip. The latter scolded him with a cold biting fury never to be forgotten. Outside politics the little man was a common and rather narrow -minded tradesman. With the House of Commons generally the grim, sardonic Joe was latterly nob unpopular. A Belfast man by birth, the late Mr Biggar was brought up at the Belfast Academy, but preferring commerce to the education offered by the Queen’s College of that city he went into business as a provision merchant, chiefly dealing in pork, and possessing considerable native wit, shrewdness, and commercial aptitude, he soon created a flourishing trade for himself. In 1874 he successfully wooed and won the Northern constituency of Cavan, and enlisting under Mr Parnell's banner, became one of the leading obstructionists of the day. At “ all-night ’’ sittings his courage was indomitable, and his goblin-like fancy often suggested to him the strangest freaks in the House. It was one “Irish Saturday” in July, 1880, that his big, rough voice was uplifted against the “ Relief of Distress Bill,” and as he flowed on and on with vigorous raspings, Dr. Playfair gently inquired if Mr Biggar meant to move an amendment to the clause. “ No,” replied the unabashed member for Cavan, “ I merely wish to criticise it.” Later on he took up a position on the front Opposition bench, and when he rose to speak leaned forward as gracefully aa the leader of the Opposition on the sacred box on the table, occasionally, to show his perfect command of the situation, playing with the ring in its lidjjyifch tbs composure of a Minister. This was an ppportupity he particularly enjoyed, On the occasion of the first all-night sitting, January 25tb, 1881, he signalised himself by jfieing ff named ” by the Speaker after

having been five times called to order, and was suspended on the motion of Mr Forster. Henceforward, he became a sort of political Ishmael, and is credited with many strange utterances. In February of the same year Mr Milbank startled the House by tne extraordinary announcement that “ Mr Biggar had called him a ‘ fool.’” The chairman said ho had nob heard the expression, whereupon Mr Biggar rose and complained that Mr Milbank had called him “an infamous scoundrel,” and this charge tho member for the North Riding of Yorkshire had to admit was true, and as Mr Biggar refused to admit the “ fool” it was the accuser’s turn to apologise. When he was violently opposed boMr Gladstone in politics he was in the haibit, in private life, of severely and caustically criticising that right hon. gentleman’s character. In quips and cranks ho was quite unique and inimitable witness his quaint speech on the eviction of Mr Bradlaugh from the House by order of the Speaker. He objected to the action of Mr Bradlaugh on Irish quesbious while he was in the House, bub ho “ felt bound to protest against the treatment to which he had been subjected because it was ‘ a precedent ’ ” —and the House, adajpting its vision to the mind’s eye of the member of Cavan, and seeing him, as ho evidently saw himself, led out by a posse of police, laughed aloud. He was undoubtedly, with Mr Parnell, the inventor of Parliamentary obstruction, with which single weapon, as Mr T. P. O’Connor says in his. book on “Gladstone’s House of Commons,” “ they were able for three years to utterly disarrange and disorganise tho whole legislative machinery, and, standing alone, to defy all the forces of Parliament and the Empire,” and to Mr Biggar’s untiring obstruction is largely due the institution of the cloture. One more humorous example, also cited by Mr T. P. O’Connor, will give an example of Mr Biggar at his best. It was the night of May sth, 1884, when Lord Hartington desired to pass the army estimates. The benches are almost deserted save for a few colonels. It is getting near dinner-time, and the peaceful Belfast man of business leaves his faithful companion inarms, Mr Arthur O’Connor, to “ hold the fort” while ho dines—and dines well. Finally the bide of balk ebbs, and Sir A. Otway rises to put tho vote to the House, and so conclude tho business. Then, says Mr T. P. O’Connor, describing the scones, “is the witching moment when tho member for Cavan rises from his seat and dazzloß the House with his perfect mastery of all the details of military tactics from the days of the Macedonian phalanx and Pythian arrow to the age of the Prussian square and the deadly breechloader. Or it m*ay be that, leaving these sublime heights of larger policy, he marches into the domain of theological controversy with a disquisition on tho treatment of army chaplains, or ho may even descend—as he did to-night—to a topic so homely as the Carrickfergus Militia and their spiritual treatment. About one o’clock Mr Biggar’s task is done, the Chairman reports progress, Lord Hartington wearily sidles off with his red despatch-box, and the member for Cavan rubs his hands, gives his beaming smile, and, as he starts to his home in the remotest suburb of western London, remarks bo tho junior member for Queen’s County—- * Arthur, these follows gob only two votes after all to-night!’ and then disappears into the night.” This was, indeed, Mr Biggar’s method in a nutshell. Socially, he gained some notoriety as the defendant in the breach of promise case brought against him by Miss Fanny Hyland. In this case there was a verdict against him for £4OO. To the English legislator he was an irritating foe, bub amongst his own colleagues, in spite of all his brusqueness of manner and harshness of utterance, he was highly esteemed, and many creditable stories are told of his hospitality and private generosity. At the timo of his death he was engaged in founding branches of his provision business in London. During the Parnell Commission, like Mr Davitt, he conducted his own case in person, and was indefatigablo in his daily attendance at Court.