TOPICS OF THE DAY

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 481, 18 June 1890, Page 4

TOPICS OF THE DAY

(From Our Special Correspondent.) London, April 11. La Grippe and Catalepsy. Notwithstanding denials and contradictions, it seems pretty certain that the mysterious cataleptic seizure, christened “ La Nona,” may be looked for in any part of the world which has been chastened by Russian influenza. New instances are cropping up each day, and in every case the victim prostrated has had influenza. The fit is usually rather alarming than dangerous, but in one or two cases patients have succumbed. There was, for example, a farmer at Uriage in the Jura last week, who after lying in “ La Nona ” for four days, woke up and died in two hours. He was 50 years of age. Adventures of New Zealanders on Mount Vesuvius. Dr. Fitchettand Mr Mackenzie, M.H.R., will long remember their ascent of Vesuvius. The mountain was in an angry mood that day, its rumblings and growling indicating an early if nob imminent outburst. Most of the European tourists preferred to view the crater from a safe distance, but, assured by a voluble guide there was no real danger, the two New Zealanders proceeded by the usual route to the verge. They had arrived, and were peering curiously into its sulphurous depths, when suddenly, with a marrow-moving roar, the demon in command merged from growling passivity into furious activity, and commenced to belch forth huge flakes of burning lava. On turning to their guide to ascertain whether things were still safe, Dr. Fitchebt and his friend found to their dismay he had fled ; in fact, the rascal could just be perceived in the distance through sulphur fumes and fiery hail flying as if for his life. Needless to say, the New Zealanders likewise lost no time in making bracks. A very bad quarter of an hour followed, as dodging the huge flakes of lava was anxious work, and made it impossible to move along very fast. Fortunately, the outburst proved to be only a temporary aberration on the part of the volcano, and in due course the New Zealanders found themselves at the railway station, safe, but singed. The Execution of Richard Davies. From the moment he learnt that all hope of a reprieve was gone, Richard Davies appears to have resigned himself to the inevitable, and met his fate with great fortitude. The lad’s execution was fixed to take place at 8 a.m. of Tuesday last at the Knutsford Gaol. Davies slept well the preceding night and awoke about six. At 7.30 the reporters were admitted to the prison. The gaol chaplin, the Rev. N. Truss, spent an hour with the prisoner prior to the arrival of Berry, the executionor, and to him Davies finally made the following statement, which he put in writing : “I, Richard Davies, declare in my last hour that I never struck my father on the night of his death, and I never had the axe in my hand.” At about five minutes to eight Berry entered the condemned cell, and pinioned the prisoner. Davies submitted quietly, and was soon ready to leave the cell. His face was blanched, and occasionally his features twitched, his hands were clasped, his eyes upraised and his lips moving. On either hand, as he came from the cell, were two warders. The chaplain at once commenced, in trembling accents, to recite the Burial Service. As the procession, headed by the Governor of the gaol and the Under-Sheriff, moved along the corridor, Berry walked immediately behind the prisoner, and the reporters followed a few paces distant. With a firm step the prisoner, his head bowed, walked along the corridor, which in the quietness of the morning resounded with the slow and measured tread of the sad procession. After proceeding about thirty yards the Governor and Mr Greg turned to the right to enter a passage which led into a yard. A freshly-blowing morning breeze greeted the group as they crossed the open space, and the prisoner raised his eyes to take a last earthly gaze at the sky, from between the clouds of which bright rays of sunlight issued. Just then Berry pulled from his pocket a white cap, which he slipped over the head of the prisoner, whose steps were then guided by the two warders on either side of him. The yard was about forty yards across, and after traversing this distance the procession entered a rather small room with whitewashed walls. A rope dangling from a black-painted beam over two black painted trapdoors proclaimed that it was on this spot Richard Davies was to breathe his last. Berry led him to stand over the drop, and deftly pinioned his ankles. Then, while adjusting over his neck the noose, the poor youth exclaimed in mostferventtones, “ On, Lord, to Theelcommend my spirit; re.ceiveit for Christ’s sake.” The last words had barely escaped his lips when Berry touched the lever. The trap door gave way and clanged against the sides of the pit. The body of Richard Davies disappeared into the depth of six feet, the rope tightened, andathollow deadened thud was heard, a Thed, ad sentence had been carried oub.r At the moment a black flag suddenly appeared and, drooping in the bright sunshine of the spring morning from an elevated staff on the prison walls, announced to the silent watching group opposite the prison entrance that the sentence of death had been carried ont. It is stated that over 2,000 telegrams in favour of reprieve were taken in at the Home Office on Monday, and personal inquiries from all sorbs and conditions of men were also made at the department during the day. The Parricide’s Farewell Letters. The sentimentalists are shedding maudlin tears over the farewell letters of the deceased parricide Davies. I really do think such epistles ought not to be published. They arouse a falseandmisleadingsympatby for flagitious criminals, and oftener than not they are downright blasphemous. About Richard Davies’ letter there is, I agree with the “Telegraph” (which had a strong and sensible article on the subject yesterday), an exceptionally nauseous tone of fulsome devotion. Otherwise it was much the same sort of screed that wo are accustomed to receive from condemned criminals. The murderer one notices invariably feels comfortable confident that he will go straight from the gibbet to heaven. He is alwayssmugly certain that before the quicklime has eaten up his body in its unconsecrated grave, he will be clothed in a white robe and placed on a cloud with a golden harp, to which he will sing psalms for ever and ever. “ He has only ” (says the “ Telegraph ”) “ to pass through the trifling stages of dashingout his father’s or his wife’s brains, or of poisoning his mother or shooting his master, to become one of the elect; and it is only to be wondered at that he is so exceedingly anxious to warn his surviving kinsfolk nob to stray from the tpaths of religion and virtue, seeing that it ■is mainly through the commission of a foul .and cruel murder that he himself has been .able to acquire the sure and certain hope of -eternal bliss. That be should have brought /himself, or haw been brought by incessant ghostly ministrations into such a happy

and entirely confident state of mind, should be, of course, highly gratifying to himself personally, and the knowledge that he is so convinced tha t he is going to Paradise through the agency of a halter, may afford a modicum of consolation to th© relatives on whose good name he has cast an abiding stigma, by the perpetration of an atrocious and unnatural murder. This proclamation of unmitigated faith in coming felicity should, be confined to circulation among the convict’s own connections. The community at largo can lie but slightly interested to learn how vastly happy ho is. They are mainly anxious that lie should get his due by being hanged by the neck until he is dead, and that the world should be rid of so desperate a villain as he has shown himself to be.”