Ball of lunatics at the Asylum, Blackwell's Island, East River, N. Y.
Such is Boston morality and such is woman's fidelity.
Burning of Steamers on the Ohio River at Cincinnati May 17, 1869.
Scene in a velocipede riding-school, New York City.
On the Beach at Newport, Rhode Island.
Great baseball match between the Atlantic and Boxford Clubs of Brooklyn.
In consequence of the new liquor law, this is the ingenious manner in which a worthy teuton friend of ours takes his family out for their Sunday rambles.
With open mouths and protruding tusks, they warn the intruder agents too near an approach.
One of the most thrilling disasters at sea that has happened for many years.
An extraordinary account of a mathematician, mechanician, and musician named Alix.
Startling accident at the draw bridge of the Rensselaer and Saratoga Railroad, Federal Street, Troy, N. Y., Saturday, Sept 23.
Traveling through fire—Fearful peril of a railway train, at Cedar Swamp, on the Eastern Railroad, Maine, Sunday, Sept. 17
An employee of the Boston Gas Works boasted his ability to kill a rat with his teeth.
Styles for the Month.
The original and daring aerial representation by Thomas Hanlon, now performed by him every evening at Niblo's Garden.
Mdlle. Carlotta de Berg, at the New York Circus, Fourteenth Street.
Faahee, or surf-swimming, is a favorite pastime with the natives of the Sandwich Islands.
We give in our present number a correct sketch of one of the largest specimens of the Porpoise that has ever been seen.
A simple schoolgirl prank spawned a new belief with millions of followers.
Kate Warne, America’s first female detective.
The Eye that Never Sleeps.
Cardiff, New York, October 16, 1869.
Actor Ricardo’s bluff jump from the stage to the audience at the Grand Opera House, Columbus, Ohio.
A scene not down on the bills took place recently at the Grand Opera House, Columbus, O., during the performance of Hanlon’s “New Fantasma.” In the last act Mr. Roccardi, one of the performers makes an attempt to jump from the stage into the audience. By means of a wire attached to his body he is raised by a pulley and jerked back by men behind the scenes. While attempting the act this night the wire broke while Roccardi was in the air, and, clearing the heads of members of the orchestra, he landed among the occupants of the first two rows in the parquet chairs, causing a shout of horror to go up from the audience. No one was seriously hurt, Roccardi escaping with a sprained ankle.
Reprinted from National Police Gazette, November 11, 1888.


