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London, Wednesday.—The Marquis of Queensberry surrendered to his bail to-day at the Central Criminal Count, London, indicted for publishing a defamatory libel on Oscar Wilde, by addressing to him a postcard at the Albemarle Club. There was a crowded attendance of the public.

On taking his place in the dock, Lord Queensberry answered the indictment by pleading first "not guilty," and, secondly, that the libel was true, and was published for the public benefit.

Sir E. Clarke, in opening for the prosecution, said that a very grave issue had been raised, because the defendant in the pleadings alleged that the plaintiff had for some time solicited persons named to commit indecent offences. Certain letters addressed by the plaintiff to Lord A. Douglas were brought to him by a man who said he was in distress, and Mr. Wilde gave him £15 or £20 to pay his passage to America. Another letter came to plaintiff through Mr. Tree, the actor. It was handed to that gentleman, who in turn gave it to plaintiff. It was couched in extravagant terms, but it did not bear the suggestion made in this case. Coming to Lord Queensberry's action, the learned counsel said the jury might have doubts whether defendant was responsible for his actions. Plaintiff was examined by Sir Edward Clarke at length on the subject of the letters, which, he said, he did not regard as important. He described a stormy interview in his own house with Lord Queenberry, who accused him of a nameless offence. He told defendant he did not know what the Queensberry rules were, but the Oscar Wilde rule was to shoot at sight. In ordering defendant out of the house he described him as the most infamous brute in London. There was no foundation for the suggestions in the pleadings.

Cross-examined by Mr. Carson—You stated that your age was thirty-nine? I think you are over forty. You were born on October 16, 1854? I had no wish to pose as being young.That makes you more than forty? Ah.

In reply to further questions, the prosecutor said—Lord Alfred Douglas is about twenty-four, and was between twenty and twenty-one years of age when I first knew him. Down to the interview in Tite Street Lord Queensberry had been friendly. I did not receive a letter on April 3 in which Lord Queensberry desired that my acquaintance with his son should cease.. After the interview I had no doubt that such was Lord Queensberry's desire. Notwithstanding Lord Queensberry's protest, my intimacy with Lord A. Douglas continues to the present moment.You have stayed with him at many places? Yes.At Oxford, Brighton? On several occasions.Worthing? Yes.You never took rooms for him? No.Were you at other places with him? Cromer, Torquay.And in various hotels in London? Yes. One in Albemarle Street and in Dover Street and at the Savoy.Did you ever take rooms yourself in addition to your house in Tite Street? Yes: at 10 and 11, St. James's Place. I kept the rooms from the month of October, 1893, to the end of March, 1894. Lord Douglas stayed in those chambers, which were not far from Piccadilly. I bad been abroad with him several times, and even lately to Monte Carlo. With reference to those books, it was not at Brighton, in 20, King's Road, that I wrote my article in the "Chameleon." I observed that there were also contributions from Lord A. Douglas, but these were not written at Brighton. I had seen them. I thought them exceedingly beautiful poems. One was in "Praise of Shame;" the other "Two Loves." One spoke of his love—boy and girl love—as true love, and other boys' love as shame.Did you see in that any improper suggestion? None whatever.You read "The Priest and the Acolyte?" Yes.You have no doubt whatever that was an improper story? From the literary point of view it was highly improper.You are of opinion there is no such thing as an immoral book? Yes.May I take it that you think "The Priest and the Acolyte" was not immoral? It was worse; it was badly written. (Laughter.)

Mr. Carson was proceeding to examine as to the contents of the story, when Sir Edward Clarke objected, but His Lordship held that Mr. Carson had a perfect right to examine as to the reasons for the witness's disapproval of the book.

Mr. Carson asked if the story was not that of a priest who fell in love with a boy who served him on the altar, and who was discovered by the rector in the priest's room, and a scandal arose.

The Witness—I have only read it once, in last November, and nothing will induce me to read it again.Do you think the story blasphemous? I think it violated every artistic canon of beauty.That is not an answer? It is the only one I can give.I want to see the position you pose as? I do not think you should use that.I have said nothing out of th way. I wish to know whether you thought the story blasphemous? The storv filled me with disgust.Answer the question, sir. Did you or did you not consider the story blasphemous? I did not consider the story blaspnemous.I am satisfied with that. You know that when the priest in the story administers poison to the boy he uses the words of the sacrament of the Church of England? That I entirely forget.Do you consider that blasphemous? I think it is horrible; blasphemous is not the word.

Mr. Carson was again proceeding to examine in passages in the story, when Sir E. Clarke objected, but Mr. Carson's course was upheld by his Lordship.

Mr. Carson read the words describing the administration of the poison in the sacrament and tlie death scene on the altar, and asked Mr. Wilde did he disapprove of them.

The Witness—I think them disgusting and perfect twaddle.I think you will admit that anyone who would approve of such an article would pose as guilty of certain practices? I do not think so in the person of another contributor to the magazine. It would show very bad literary taste. I strongly object to the whole story. I took no steps to express disapproval of the Chameleon because I think it would have been beneath my dignity as a man of letters to associate myself with an Oxford undergraduate's productions. I am aware that the magazine might have been circulated among the undergraduates of Oxford. I do not believe that any book or work of art ever had any effect on morality whatever.Am I right in-saying that you do not consider the effect in creating morality or immorality. Certainly I do not.So far as your work is concerned you pose as not being concerned about morality or immorality? I do not know whether you use the word "pose" in any particular sense.It is a favourite word of your own. Is it? I have no pose in this matter. In writing a play or a book, or anything, I am concerned entirely with literature—that is with art. I am not doing good or evil, but in trying to make a thing that will have some quality of beauty.Listen, sir, here is one of the "phases and philosophies for the use of the young"—"Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for the curious attractiveness of others." Yon think that true? I rarely think that anything I write is true.Did you say rarely? I said rarely. I might have said never—not true in the actual sense of the word."Religions die when they are proved to be true." Is that true? Yes, I hold that. It is a suggestion towards a philosophy of the absorption of religions by science, but it is too big a question to go into now.Do you think that was safe axiom to put forward for the philosophy of the young? Most stimulating. (Laughter.)"If one tells the truth one is sure sooner or later to be found cut." That is a pleasing paradox, but I do not set very high store on it as an axiom.Is it good for the young? Anything is good that stimulates thought in whatever age.Whether moral or immoral? There is no such thing as morality or immorality in thought. There is immoral emotion."Pleasure is the only thing one should live for." I think tbat the realisation of oneself is the prime aim of life, and to realise oneself through pleasure is finer than to do so through pain. I am on that point entirely on the side of the ancients, the Greeks."A truth ceases to be true when more than one person believes it?" Perfectly; that would be my metaphysical definition of truth—something so personal that the same truth could never be appreciated by two minds."The condition of perfection is idleness?" Oh, yes; I think so. Half of it is true. The life of contemplation is the highest life."There is something tragic about the enormous number of young men there are in England at the present moment who start life with perfect profiles and end by adopting some useful profession?" I should think that the young have enough sense of humour.You think that is humorous? I think it is an amusing paradox.What would anybody say would be the effect of "phrases and philosophies" taken in connection with such an article as "the priest and the acolyte?" Undoubtedly: it was the idea that might be formed that made me object so strongly to the story. I saw at once that maxims that were perfectly nonsensical, paradoxical, or anything you like might be read in conjunction with it.After the criticisms that were passed on "Dorian Grey" was it modified a good deal? No; additions were made.

Mr. Carson read the description of the artist's feelings on first meeting "Dorian Grey," and in reply to a question Mr. Wilde said—I think this is the most perfect description possible of what an artist would feel on meeting a beautiful personality.You mean a beautiful person? Yes, a beautiful young man, if you like.Having read another passage, Mr. Carson asked—Do you mean to say that that describes the natural feelings of one man towards another? It describes the influence produced on an artist by a beautiful personality.A person? I said personality. You can describe it as you like. Answering another question, witness said he did not think the feeling described was a natural or a moral feeling, but the work was a work of fiction.The book speaks of adoration for the youth Dorian. Have you experienced that? I have never given adoration to anybody but myself. (Laughter.)I dare say you think tbat is very smart? Not at all.

Asked a further question, Mr. Wilde exclaimed, "I do not know what you are talking about," to which counsel retorted, "Well, I hope I shall make myself very plain before I am done."Do you sympathise with, "I want to have you all to myself?" I should consider it an intense bore.

Replying to a question of Mr. Carson, witness said, "There is no such thing as bad influence in the world."A man never corrupts a youth? I think not. Nothing could do it. It is quite impossible psychologically.

Turning to the personal letter written by witness to Lord A. Douglas counsel asked, "Was that an ordinary letter? Witness—Certainly not. An ordinary letter? No.Do you mean to tell me that this was a natural and proper way to address a young man? You are criticising a poem. If you ask me whether it is proper, you might as well ask me whether "King Lear" is proper, or a sonnet of Shakespeare proper.But apart from art? I can't answer any question apart from art. A man who was not an artist could never have written that letter. He could not use the language I used unless he was a man of letters and an artist.Was that the ordinary way in which you carried on your correspondence with Lord A. Douglas? One could not write a letter like that every day. It would be like writing a poem every day. Yon couldn't do it.Do you write to other persons in the same way? Oh, never.Have you written other letters in the same style as this? I do not repeat myself in style.Well, here is another letter written by you to Lord Alfred from the Savoy Hotel—"Dearest of all boys, your letter was delightful red and yellow wine to me, but I am sad and out of sorts. Boysey, you must not make scenes with me. They kill me: they wreck the loveliness of life. I cannot see yon so, Greek and gracious, distorted with passion. I cannot listen your young lips saying hideous things to me. I would sooner"—here a word is undecipherable, but I will ask the witness—"than have you bitter, unjust, hating. I must see you soon. You are the the divine thing I want, the thing I grace, but I don't know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury? My bill here is £49 for a week. (Laughter.) Why is it you are not here, my dear, my wonderful boy? I fear I must have no money, no credit. Your own Oscar."

Mr. Carson—Is that an extraordinary letter? I think everything I write extraordinary. I do not pose as being ordinary. Good heavens—

Mr. Carson—When did the man named Wood first come to you about the letters which he had found in Lord A. Douglas' coat? An appointment was made through Mr. A. Taylor.Before you brought about the appointment through Taylor did you get Sir G. Lewis to write a letter to Wood? Yes.Did Wood refuse to go to Sir George Lewis? I do not know.He did not go? No.Then you made an appointment to meet Taylor? Yes.Were you anxious about these letters? I should think so. What private gentleman wants his private correspondence made public?

Answering further questions, Mr. Wilde said he met Wood at the Cafe Royal at Lord A. Douglas's request. He frequently went to 13, Little College Street, and had tea there sometimes.Mr. Carson—I think they were all young men at those tea parties? No, not all.They were all men? Yes.Did you dine at the Florence Restaurant, in Regent Street, with Wood? No, I have never dined with him. I asked him whether he had any dinner or supper, and I ordered some.What was Wood? As far as I can make out he was looking for some situation. He told me he had had a clerkship.What was his age at that time? I should think about twenty-three or twenty-four.Do I understand, that the very first day you saw Wood you took him round to the Florence Restaurant? Yes.Was Taylor also present? There was no one else present.

In reply to further questions, witness emphatically denied having any unlawful relations with Wood.

As to the letters which Wood brought to witness, they were, said witness, "letters of no importance." The £15 he gave him was to pay his passage to New York, and witness gave him £5 more the next day.Do you suggest to the jury that this was done out of charity? It is hardly for me to make suggestions to the jury.Did you have a champagne lunch with him before he left for America? Yes.With the man you thought wanted to blackmail you? Yes.

Answering further questions, witness said Wood called him "Oscar." Almost everybody called him by his Christian name. Continuing, witness said Allen, who brought him the "prose poem," was a notorious blackmailer. He gave him 10s out of contempt. That was one of the best ways to show contempt.I suppose he was pleased with your contempt? He was apparently pleased with my kindness. Clyborn, said witness, was another blackmailer for whom he showed contempt.Mr. Carson—With the exception of your letter that was found out was any other one turned into a sonnet? I should require to read a great deal of modern poetry before I could answer that question. (Laughter.)

Counsel then proceeded to put questions with regard to the "office boy" of witness's publishers. Mr. Wilde denied that the lad was the office boy, and said he was an assistant. He was not good-looking, but he had an intellectual face. He had dined with witness at the Albemarle Hotel.For the purpose of having an intellectual treat? Well—for him—yes. (Laughter.)

Cross-examination continued—He became acquainted with a boy named Alfonzo Conway at Worthing, who was abont eighteen years of age, but had no occupation. He denied having any unlawful relations with him. He had given him a cigarette case, with the incription, "Alfonso, from his friend, Oscar Wilde." He had also given this boy his photograph, a book, and a walking stick. He took him to Brighton, and gave him a new suit of clothes and a straw hat.

Mr. Carson—You dressed him up in order that he might look something more like your equal. I did it in order that he might not be ashamed of his shabby clothes.

The case was adjourned until to-morrow.

Special Dispatches to the CHRONICLE.

LONDON, April 3. -- Every available inch in Old Bailey was occupied this morning when the hearing of the libel suit brought against the Marquis of Queensberry by Oscar Wilde was opened before Justice Collins. Wilde charges the Marquis with leaving, on February 28th, an uncovered card at the Albemarle Club, on which was written certain foul epithets. As a result Wilde, on March 2d, caused the arrest of the Marquis, and the latter at the Marlborough-street Police Court was placed under £1500 bail.

The courtroom was to-day crowded with lawyers. Admission was obtained by tickets only, and the Sheriff in charge exhibited a pile of applications a foot high, many being from well-known people.

Wild rumors were current in London yesterday that Wilde had suddenly left the city to avoid being present in court, and reports were also current that startling developments would arise to-day. But both these rumors were set at rest by the arrival in court of the principals to the suit.

The Marquis, who wore a shabby overcoat, was was placed in the docket, and answered to the indictment by pleading first not guilty, and secondly, that the libel was true and it was published for the public good.

The Marquis seemed unconcerned, and, replying to questions, spoke quietly and clearly.

Sir Edward Clarke, formerly Solicitor-General, in opening the case, said the card left at the Albemarle Club for Mr. Wilde was one of the visiting cards of the Marquis of Queensberry.

Continuing, counsel said the gravest issues had been raised, as the defendant in his pleadings alleged that the plaintiff had for some time solicited the persons to commit indecent offenses.

Certain letters addressed by the plaintiff to Lord Alfred Douglass, the second son of the Marquis of Queensberry, were brought to the plaintiff by a man who said he was in distress, and Wilde gave him £20 with which to pay his passage to America. Another letter was handed Beerbohm Tree, the actor, who gave it to the plaintiff.

Counsel then recounted the facts already known in the case, showing that Wilde, who had recently returned from Algiers, drove up to the Albemarle Club about 5 P. M. on February 28th, and, on entering, was handed an envelope by the hall porter, Sidney Wright, who said: "Lord Queensberry desired me, sir, to hand this to you when you came to the club."

Inside the envelope the plaintiff found a card, on the back of which was the date "4:30 P. M.-18-2-'95," and on this card were written certain foul epithets which formed the basis of the suit.

Oscar Wilde was then called. He languidly arose from the solicitor's table, where he was seated, and entered the witness-box. The plaintiff was faultlessly dressed and carried gloves in his hand, showing fingers covered with rings. He was very pale, but seemingly composed.

Wilde spoke with his customary drawl, leaning his arms upon the rail of the witness-box and replying distinctly to questions. The jury, which was composed of very intelligent men of elderly appearance, mainly prosperous tradesmen, eyed him with curiosity.

The witness said that upon arriving at his house a few months ago he found two gentlemen waiting in the library. One was the Marquis of Queensberry; the other was unknown to plaintiff. The former said, "Sit down."

Wilde replied: "Lord Queensberry, I will not allow any one to talk that way in my house. I suppose you have come to apologize. Is it possible that you accuse me and your son of an unnatural crime?"

The Marquis replied: "I don't say it, but you look like it and appear like it."

Counsel for plaintiff then asked the witness about the man to whom he gave £20 with which to pay his passage to America. The witness said: "The man told me he had been offered £60 for the letter, and I advised him to immediately accept it; but I finally gave him the money in order to relieve his distress, and he gave me the letter."

The document referred to was here produced in court, and was handed to Justice Collins. The letter referred to the "rose-red lips" of Lord Alfred Douglass, and the writer addressed him as "My own boy," and asked, "Why are you alone in London?" The letter was signed "With undying love, Oscar Wilde."

Other expressions in the letter were: "Your slim, gilt soul walks between poetry and passion"; "I know that Hyacinthus, who was loved by Apollo, was you in the Greek days."

Counsel, in explaining this letter, said it might seem extravagant to those in the habit of writing letters. But he added, "It was mere poetry." [Laughter.]

Interest in the case was increased when Sir Edward Clarke, upon finishing the direct examination, turned the witness over to E. H. Carson, Q. C., M. P., counsel for the Marquis of Queensberry, for cross-examination.

Carson began the presentation of the case for the Marquis by reading passages from "Dorian Gray," one of Oscar Wilde's novels of modern life, to show that the author upheld the offense alleged, the plaintiff following counsel with a copy of the book and laughing at Carson's insinuations.

Carson, addressing the plaintiff, asked: "Do you think the description of Dorian Gray, given on page 6, is a moral one?" "Yes," replied Wilde. "Just what an artist would notice in a beautiful personality." "Did you ever adore as madly as described in 'Dorian Gray' any person of the male sex younger than yourself?" was the next question. In reply Wilde said: "I took the idea from Shakespeare's sonnets."

During this portion of the proceedings the Marquis of Queensberry followed his counsel with a copy of "Dorian Gray" in his hands with seeming enjoyment.

Wilde testified that the man to whom he gave £20 on receipt of the letter in which he referred to the "rose-red lips" of Lord Douglass, which amount was used to pay his passage to America, was named Wood.

Replying to questions by Mr. Carson, Wilde said the letter to Lord Alfred was merely "poetical," and he added that he had an "undying love" for Lord Alfred, who, he claimed, was his best friend. Witness denied having misconducted himself with Wood. The latter, he added, was introduced to himself by Lord Alfred, who asked him to befriend the man.

Wilde and Wood, it was shown also by cross-examination, addressed each other by their Christian names. It was also developed that in writing he did not concern himself to produce morality or immorality. He had no purpose, and was concerned merely with literature, beauty, wit and emotion. He rarely thought of anything he wrote as true; indeed, he might say never in reference to "Dorian Gray."

Sir Edward Clarke objected to Carson cross-examining his client on that novel as it appeared in Lippincott's Magazine and not as it was published in England.

Wilde thereupon stepped from the witness box and whispered a few words to his counsel, after which Sir Edward Clarke withdrew his objection.

The cross-examination was very sever and brought out the great differences in ages of Oscar Wilde and Lord Alfred Douglas (the former was born in 1856, the latter in 1870), how the two had visited various towns together and had been much in one another's company.

Carson then drew out Wilde's opinion regarding literature in general, to which line of cross-examination the witness made many smart responses in the same line as in his plays.

"The interpretation of my works does not concern me," said Wilde. "I do not care 'tuppence' for what the Philistines think about me."

Carson severely repressed the levity of the witness and began a more serious phase of cross-examination by questioning Wilde about his intimacy with a newsboy 18 years of age, and brought out the fact that Wilde took the boy to the Hotel Brighton.

"Why did you seek the boy's society?" asked Carson, "Was it for an intellectual treat?" "Oh, he was a bright, careless, amusing creature," replied the witness.

Carson here produced a silver cigarette case, a handsome cane and a book which Wilde admitted he had given the newsboy.

Cross-examination then touched upon Wilde's relations with various boys and men, and the questions were so pointed as to be unprintable. Wilde, however, emphatically denied that he did anything improper, but he was troubled and confused under the terrible cross-examination to which he was subjected, and frequently drank water. In fact he seemed ready to faint, and a chair was placed inside the witness-stand for his use. Throughout the questioning of the plaintiff the Marquis of Queensberry stood facing him, and did not take his eyes off the man.

The cross-examination of Wilde was not finished when the court adjourned at 5 P. M. A large crowd had assembled about the Old Bailey to see Wilde leave.

SOME OF WILDE'S IDEAS. Extracts From His Novel of "The Picture of Dorian Gray."

A few extracts from Oscar Wilde's novel, "The Picture of Dorian Gray," which was read from in the London court yesterday, will give an idea of its character. Dorian Gray is thus described on page 6 in the words of Basil Hallward: "I turned half way round and saw Dorian Gray for the first time. When our eyes met I felt that I was growing pale. A curious instinct of terror came over me. I knew that I had come face to face with some one whose mere personality was so fascinating that if I allowed it to do so it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself. I did not want any external influence in my life. You know yourself, Harry, how independent I am by nature. My father destined me for the army. I insisted on going to Oxford. Then he made me enter my name at the Middle Temple. Before I had eaten half a dozen dinners I gave up the bar and announced my intention of becoming a painter.

"I have always been my own master; had at least always been so, till I met Dorian Gray. Then- But I don't know how to explain it to you. Something seemed to tell me that I was on the verge of a terrible crisis of my life. I had a strange feeling that fate had in store for me exquisite joys and exquisite sorrows. I knew that if I spoke to Dorian I would become absolutely devoted to him, and that I ought not to speak to him. I grew afraid, and turned to quit the room. It was not conscience that made me do so; it was cowardice. I take no credit to myself for trying to escape."

Again the artist says: "Suddenly I found myself face to face with the young man whose personality had so strangely stirred me. We were quite close, almost touching."

"Our eyes met again. It was mad of me, but I asked Lady Brandon to introduce me to him. Perhaps it was not so mad, after all. It was simply inevitable. We would have spoken to each other without any introduction, I am sure of that. Dorian told me so afterward. He too, felt that we were destined to know each other."

And in his rhapsody he exclaims: "What the invention of oil painting was to the Venetians, and the face of Antinous was to late Greek sculpture, the face of Dorian Gray will some day be to me. It is not merely that I paint from him, draw from him, model from him. Of course I have done all that. He has stood as Paris in dainty armor, and as Adonis with huntsman's cloak and polished boar-spear. Crowned with heavy lotus blossoms, he has sat on the prow of Adrian's barge, looking into the green turbid Nile. He has leaned over the still pool of some Greek woodland, and seen in the water's silent silver the wonder of his own beauty. But he is much more to me than that."

Hallward considered for a few moments. "He likes me," he answered after a pause; "I know he likes me. Of course I flatter him dreadfully. I find a strange pleasure in saying things to him that I know I shall be sorry for having said. I give myself away. As a rule he is charming to me, and we walk home together from the club arm in arm, or sit in the studio and talk of a thousand things. Now and then, however, he is horribly thoughtless and seems to take a real delight in giving me pain. Then I feel, Harry, that I have given away my whole soul to some one who treats it as if it were a flower to put in his coat, a bit of decoration to charm his vanity, an ornament for a summer's day."

A few pages further on, Hallward, in talking to his idol, says: "The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself with desire for what its monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful. It has been said that the great events of the world take place in the brain. It is in the brain and the brain only that the great sins of the world take place also. You, Mr. Gray, you yourself, with your rose-red youth and your rose-white boyhood, you have had passions that have made you afraid, thoughts that have filled you with terror, day dreams and sleeping dreams whose mere memory might stain your cheek with shame."

PEN PICTURE OF OSCAR WILDE. Ungainly and Untidy but Effeminate in Manner.

In "Live Topics About Town" a writer in the New York Sun recently gave this graphic pen picture of Oscar Wilde, showing that the esthetic playwright is not always fair to look upon:

"Opinions concerning Oscar Wilde are so numerous that it will do no harm to add one more to the number. Mr. Wilde is still spoken of as a thing of beauty and a person of engaging appearance. The writer met him in London last summer and had an extended conversation with the ex-esthete upon a business matter, which was subsequently settled to the satisfaction of all parties concerned."

"Mr. Wilde was at that time addicted to wearing cork-soled boots of a very large and cumbersome make, and he wore flapping trousers that bagged at the knees. His rather shapeless body was incased in a frock coat which might have been made by an obscure tailor in Newark, so awkward and ill-fitting were its outlines, and it would be the widest possible departure from the truth to assert that his general appearance and expression were anything but repellant. The front of his coat was stained with grease. His teeth were discolored and the fat hung in heavy masses over his jaw bones.

Along with his unwieldy bulk and general ungainliness of movement there was a manner of assumed femininity that aroused ridicule if not disgust. Mr. Wilde sat humped up in a chair, with his eyes turned upward and his voice was pitched like a woman's. He twisted his rings nervously, and occasionally pressed a handkerchief with a narrow lace border to his lips as he talked. There were two prominent Americans present at the interview, and they must read with interest the assertion made in some of the dispatches that Mr. Wilde is a man of magnificent physique, with engaging manners and a generally magnetic presence.