James Carey has not long escaped those who, it was well known, had resolved to slay him at the first opportunity. According to telegrams received from Durban and Cape Town he was shot dead on Sunday, on board the liner _Melrose_, by an Irishman named O'Donnell. The vessel had got into harbour at Port Elizabeth, and was discharging her passengers and cargo, when Carey was shot. Fully warned of the intention to murder him, the authorities at Dublin had taken pains to conceal his movements. When he quitted Kilmainham, it was stated that he had resolved to brave the worst, and settle down in Dublin to his old occupations. Then it was said that he had been seen in London. According to another account he had sailed for Canada, and had actually landed at Montreal under the escort of two detectives. If these tales were circulated with the hope of putting the Invincibles on a false scent, they signally failed. His enemies were too astute to be deceived by pious frauds. Carey's death is a public misfortune. He had indeed been a principal in a cruel and barbarous murder. He behaved with supreme callousness and repulsive levity throughout the trials; and he was in every way one of the worst specimens of a bad type. But he was the instrument by which the Phœnix Park murderers were brought to justice, and it would have been well had he lived to defy the machinations of the Invincibles. But this misfortune is only a consequence of facts which, as a rule, serve as a safeguard and protection to society. Gibbon has forcibly described the unhappy condition of the wretch who tried to flee from the power of a Roman Emperor. There was no escape from it: he confronted it wherever he fled. No better are the chances of flight of one who, in these days of publicity, of photographs and illustrated newspapers, tries to hide himself from the gaze of those who know him. All this told against Carey's chances of escape. He had made himself the object of bitter hatred of secret societies, which have ramifications through many parts of the world. During the long trials at Dublin, portraits of him in all attitudes were published. His very marked features became familiar to everyone. Disguise himself as he might--and it is stated that when he was shot he was disguised--he could not help being recognized wherever he went. SLAUGHTER OF HICKS PASHA'S ARMY (1883). =Source.=--Sir Reginald Wingate's _Mahdiism and the Egyptian Soudan_, pp. 85, 88-90. (Macmillans.)