Evening Star Newspaper, September 21, 1895, Page 13

‘THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 1895-TWENTY PAGEB. THE DEVICE OF GIRALDO, THE PAINTER, —_—>—__ BY ANTHONY HOPE, Author of “The Prisoner of Zenda," “The Dolly Dialogues,” Etc. * (Copyright, 1896, by A. H. Hawkins.) When the twenty-first birthday of the Princess Osra approached, her brother, King Rudolf, desiring to make her a pres- ent, summoned from his home at Verona in Italy a painter of very high fame, by name Gireldo, and commanded him to paint @ portrait of the princess, to be her broth- cr’s gift to her. This command Giraldo carried out, the princess giving him every opportunity of studying her features, and grudging no time that was spent by her in front of his easel, and the picture, when finished, being pronounced to be as faithful as beautiful, the reputation of Giraldo was greatly enhanced by the painting of it. Thus it followed that In many cases, when foreign princes had heard the widespread praises of Osra’s beauty, they sent orders to Giraldo to execute for them and dis- patch with ali speed miniatures or other portraits of the princess, that they might judge for themselves whether she were in truth as lovely as report said; and they sent Giraldo large sums of money in recom- God's Curse on Me for Having Slan- dered the Beauty I Love. pense, adding not seldom some further do- nation in the express term and condition that Giraldo should observe absolute fidel- ity in his representation and not permit himself the least flattery. For some desired themselves to court her, and others in- tended .their sons to ask her hand, if ths evidence of Gireldo’s portraits satisfied their hopes. Thus Giraido, although but two or three years above thirty, grew both in fame and wealth, and was very often in- debted to the princess for the favor of a visit to his house, that he might again cor- rect his memory of her face. Now, what several princes had done be- fore, it chaneed that the King of Glotten- berg also id; and Giraldo, to all appear- ances much pleased, accepted the command and prayed the princess to visit him; for, he said, this picture was to be larger and more elaborate than the rest, and there- fore needed more study. of her. So the princess went many times, and the portrait destined for the King of Glottenberg (who was said to be seeking a suitable alliance for his eldest son) grew before her eyes into the most perfect and beautiful pre- sentment of her which the skill of Giraldo had ever accomplished, and surpassed even that first picture which he had painted by King Rudolf’s command. And the king had no doubt that, so soon as the picture had reached the court of Glottenberg, an em- bassy would come from there to demand the hand of his sister for the crown prince, ®& proposal which he would have received with mich pleasure and gratification. “I do not think,” sald Osra, tossing her head, “that any such embassy will come, sire. For four or five pictures have been elready painted by Signor Giraldo in like manner, but no embassies have come. It seems that my poor features do not find approval in the courts of Europe.” And her tone, it must be confessed, was full of contempt. For the Princess Osra Krew that she was beautiful, as, indeed, all beautiful ladies are, by the benevolence of heaven, permitted to. How much greater mischief might they work if such knowl- edge were denied them! ‘That's true enough,” cried Rudolf. ‘And I do not understand the meaning of it. But it will not be so at Glottenberg. For my good brother, the king, has eyes in his head and his son sees no less well. I met them in my travels and I can speak of it. Most certainly an embassy will come from Glottenberg before we are a month older!” Yet, strange to say, the same thing fol- lowed on the dispatch of the portrait (which Giraldo sent by a certain trusty Messenger, whom he was accustomed to empioy) as hat happened before; no em- bassy came, and the King of Glottenberz excused himself from paying a visit to Strelsau, which he and his son had prom- ised on the invitation of King Rudolf. Therefore Rudolf was very vexed and Osra also, thinking herself scorned, was sore at heart, aithough she bore herself more proudly than before. And, being very greatly disturbed in her mind concerning her beauty, she went herself again to Giraldo and charged him to paint her once mre. “And this picture,” she said, “is for my own eyes and mine alone. Therefore, Sig- nor, paint it faithfully and epare me not. For if a woman be ugly, it is well she should know it, and it seems that nohody in the kingdom will tell me the truth, al- though I get hints enough of it from abroad.” And she frowned and flushed and was greatly out of temper, as any beautiful lady would in such a case most naturally be. Giraldo bowed very low, seeking to hide the sudden red that dyed his cheek and to conceal the great joy which the command of the princess gave him. For by reason of having so often painted the princess, of having so curiously studied her face, and of having spent so much time in her com- pany, listen’ng to her conversation and en- joying her w.t and grace, this hopeless young man had become so hopelessly and desperately her lover that he no longer eared to use his brush in the service of apy other lady or lord, and stayed at Strel- sau solely that he night again and again denict the face that he loved, and save when she sat before him he seemed now unable to pty his art at all, and had he not received so many commands for pictures of her he would have sat all day long idle, thinking of her—which indeed was what he did in the intervals between his labor on her portraits. But she, not imagining such presumption and folly on his part, thought that he was glad merely because she wouid pay him well; so she promised him more nd more, if only he would paint her faith- fully. And he gave her his word that he would paint her in every respect most faithfully. “For I desire to know,” said she, “what I am in truth like; for my mirror says one th:ng and the King of Glottenberg—” But here she stopped, remembering that such matters were not fit for Giraldo’s ears. Yet he must have understcod, for a strange cunning exultant smile came on his lips as he turned away and set himself to mix the colors on his palette. Thus he began this last picture and the princess came every day and stayed long, so that Giraldo m‘ght be able to render her likeness in every most minute respect with perfect lity. ee she thought, resentfully, “either I have no eyes or they have none in Glot- nberg.” seput wher. she had thus been visiting Giraldo for hard upon a month and the picture was nearly finished, and was at once the most lovely and the most faithful of all that Giraldo had painted, it chanced that letters came to the king from a noble- man of France who was well known to tim, and had known the princess as well, the Marquis de Merosailles. And the mar- uis wrote to the king in the greatest in- Gignation end scorn, upbralding the king and saying, “What ts this, sire? Do you keep a madman at your court and call him @ painter? I have been at Gluttenberg; and when I spoke there, as it is my humble duty and my true delight to speak every- where, of the incomparable beauty of your majesty’s sister, the Princess Osra, the king, his son and all the company did nothing but laugh. And I fovght three duels with gentlemen of the court on this account, and two of them I, heaven help- ing me, wounded, and one, by some devil's trick, wounded me. And after this, the matter coming to the king’s ear, he sent for me and excused the laughter by show- ing me a picture done by a rascal called Giraldo at your court, and the picture was named after your majesty’s most matchless sister; but, as I am a true son of the church, it was more like a gutter wench, and, oa my honor and conscience, it squint- ed most perceptibly. I pray you, sire, find out the meaning of this thing; and receive most humble duty, and homage fror. your devoted servant, and since your gracious- jess so wills it, most obliged and obedient friend, Henri Marquis de Merosailles. I kiss the hand of the princess.” When the king had read this letter he grew very thoughtful, and, unknown to Giraldo, h- sent and caught the messenger whom Giraldo was wont to intrust with the pictures, and who had carried the pic- ture of which M. de Merosailles wrote to Glottenberg> and the king interrogated the messenger most closely, but got nothing from him, save that he himself never be- held the pictures which he carried, but re- ceived them frost carefully packed from Giraldo, and so delivered them without un- doing the coverings, and did wait until the recipient had inspected the picture. - So that the fellow did not know anything about the picture that had gone to Glottenberg, ex- cept that it was certainly the same as Giraldo had intrustei to his hands. But the king was not satisfied, and, learning that his sister was at that moment at Gi- taldo’s house, being painted afresh by him, he called half a dozen of gentlemen and set out on horseback for the place where Giral- do lived in the street that runs from the cathedral toward the western gate of Strel- sau. To this day the house stands there. The prircess sat and Giraldo painted. Behind the princess was a window, looking on to the street, and behind Giraldo was a second door, which led into an inner room. On Giraldo’s easel stood the nearly finished picture, ani Giraldo’s eyes were alight both with love und with triumph as he turned from the princess to the picture, and from the picture to the princess again; and she, seeing something of his admiration, said with a blush: “Is it, indeed, faithful, signor?’ For It seemed even to herself a marvelously love- ly picture. “No, madame,” answered he. “For my imperfect hand cannot be faithful to per- fection.” “I pray you, do not flatter me. Have you, indeed, shown every fault of my face?” “If there be a fault In your face, madame, there it {s also in my picture,” said Giraldo. The princess was silent for a moment, and then she said: “It is better, is it not, than the picture you painted for the King of Glottenberg?” Giraldo painted a stroke or two before he answered, carelessly: “Indeed, madame, it {s more faithful than that which the King of Glottenberg has.” “Then less beautiful?” asked Osra with @ petulant smile. fay, I do not say that; not less beaull- ful,” he answered. “Perhaps he would like this one better, and give me his in exchange; for I never saw his after it was finished. I think I will ask the king, write to him.” Gtraldo had suddenly turned round as the princess made this suggestion, which she spoke half in sport, half in continuing chagrin at the blindness shown: by the court of Glottenberg. Now he stood star- ing at her with wide open alarmed eyes, and he dropped his brushes on to the floor. “What ails you, signor?” she crie I did but suggest exchanging the picture: He tried to regain his composure, as he stooped to pick up his brushes. “The King of Glottenberg's picture Is the best for him to have,” said he suflenly. “This one, madame, I painted for you your- self, and for you alone.” “I pay the price and can do what I will with the picture,” retorted the princess haughtily. “And if I desire, I will give it to the King of Glottenberg.” Glraldo had now turned very pale, and, forgetful of the picture, stood gazing fix- edly at the princess. For he could ro longer hold down in secrecy and silence the passion that possessed him, but it was de- clared in his eyes and in the trembling of his limbs; so that the princess rose from SHE KNEW NOW other is mire.’ Are they not your features? The King of Glottenberg should not have even your features. But you shall have them, and if a devil looks out through such a fair mask, is it not so with all fair wo- men, that lead even to destruction? There is your true picture, Princesa Osra!” And he flung Fimeelf on a couch with a mad cry of rage, and then a groan of despair. The Princess Osra looked at him, and at the beautiful pictures, and then at the pic- ture that was like her and yet like a devil. First, she pitied the painter, and then marveled at his wonderful skill, that so transformed her without drawing a line that could be called untrue. Thus think- ing, she stood for a while, grave and puz- zled. But then the humor struck her, as it struck her house, always in great things and in small, and it seemetl to her most ludicrous that the pictures should all be resting here in Giraldo’s house, while the princes who had commanded portraits of her had received nothing but distorted parodies of her face, to the end that they might be disgusted, and, abandoning the alliance they had projected, leave her still at Strelsau, to be painted times out of number and most fruitlessly by this mad painter. And, these thoughts gaining the mastery over the others, in spite of the sad plight of unhappy Signor Giraldo, her lips curved into a bow, her eyes gleamed in dancing merriment, and a moment later she broke into a glad, gleeful laugh, that rose ond rippled and fell to soft delighted murmurings. And she looked again at the picture that was like her and also like a devil, and her mirth grew and grew at the ingenuity of the work and the mocking deviltry so cunningly made out of her face. Small wonder was it to her now that the emtassies had not come. The Princess Osra thus stood laughing, and presently Signor Giraldo looked up, and when he had listened and looked for a few moments, his wild mood caught the in- fection from her, so that, springing to his feet, he also began to laugh loudly, like a man who cannot restrain his amusement, but is carried away by it beyond all bounds and restraint. Thus Giralio laughed loud- ly, long and fiercely, for there was mad- ness in his laugh. And the princess heard the madness, and, even while she still laughed, her eyes opened in wonder, alarm came on her face, her merry laugh quiv- ered, trembled, choked in her throat, and at last died away into dumbness, yet her lips hung apart, frozen in the shape of laughter, while no laughter came. And as her laugb thus ended in mute horror, his grew louder yet and wilder, and its peal rang through the room, as he gasped be- tween his spasms of horrid mirth: “You, you, you!” and pointed at the picture which he had touched into devilishness. But she shrank away and stood crouched against the wall, for she knew now that he was mad, but did not know to what his fury might next lead him. Then he caught up a knife that lay on the sill of the window, and now, smiling as though in grim quite amusement, strode across to the row of } pictures, and, reaching up to them, knife in hand. But Osra suddenly sprang for- ward, crying, “Do not hurt them!’ “There?” he asked, turning to her with a sneer. ‘These? I'll destroy them all, for they are no longer beautiful to me, but that one only is beautiful, because it is true,” and he wrenched his arm away from the detaining hand that she had laid upon it. Falling back in terror, she watched him cutting end slashing each of the pic- tures, until the face was utterly destroyed. And she feared that when he had finisied with the pictures he would turn upon her; therefore she flung herself on the couch, hiding her face for fear of some horrible fate; and she murmured low to herself, “Not my face, O God, not my face!” And she pressed her face down into the cush- fons of the couch, while he, muttering and grumbling to himself, cut the pictures irto strips and, ribbons and strewed the frag- ments at his feet on the floor. And, this done, he turned to the face that he now loved and poured out to it, as though it had been an idol he worshiped, a flood of wild, passionate, reproachful words, that Osra shivered to hear and the purport of which she dared tell none, thoush, for all her prayers, she could not herself forget one of them. At last he came to her again, and plucked her roughly and rudely from the couch THAT HE WAS MAD. her chair and shrank away from him in alarm, regretting that she had dismissed her ladies, in crder to be less restrained in talk with the painter; and she tried to cry out, that they might hear her where they were in an adjoining room, but her cry froze on her lips at the sight of Giralde passion. And he cried in a hoarse whisper: “He shall not have the plcture, he shall not have it!” as he spoke he moved nearer to the princess, who still shrank away from him, being now in very great alawm and thinking that surely he had run mad. Yet she looked at him and, looking, saw whence his madness came; and she felt pity for him and held out her clasped hands toward him, saying in a very goft voice and with eyes that grew sad and tender: “Ah, signor, signor, am I always to have lovers, and never a friend?” At this the unfortunate painter was over- come and, dropping his head between his hands, he gave a deep, half-stifled sob, and then he cried: “God's curse on me, for having slandered the be.uty that I love!” And then he sobbed again. But the princess wondered greatly what he meant by his strange cry, and turning her eyes again on him in bewildered ques- tioning, saying, as she pointed to the pic- ture: “There is no slander here, signor, unless teo much praise be slander.” Giraldo made no answer in words, but, springing toward her, caught her by the wrist, and drew her across the room to the door behind the easel. With feverish haste he unlocked it and passed throug. ‘Ihe princess, al‘hough now free from his grip, followed him in a sort of fascination. Giraldo drew the door close behind him, and at the moment the princess gave a cry, half a scream, half Jaughter. For facing her, she saw, each on Its easel, three, four, five, six pictures of herself, each beautiful and painted most lovingly; and the last of the six was the picture that had been paint- ed by order of the King of Glottenbers. For she knew it by the attire, although the face had not been firished when she had last seen it. sudden enlightenment pierced her mind and she knew that Giraldo had rot sent the pictures for which she had sat to him, but had kept them himself and sent others to his patrons. This strange conviction found Its sure confirmation in a seventh easel which stcod apart from the rest, on the other side of the door; for it supported what was in all respect a copy of the portrait on which Giraldo was now engaged, save that by cunning touches he had imparted to the face an allen and fear- ful aspect; for here, although the features had their shape and perfect grace, yet it was the face of a devil that looked out on the canvas, a face that a man would not have gazing at him from the wall on to the bed where he sought sleep. But when Giraido saw her eyes fixed on this picture he cried, “That is for you—the where she lay and dragged her behind him back to the door again and through it, and they stood together in front of the iast pic- ture, whose paint was still wet from his hand. The painted face smiled down on the trembling, pale girl, with its smile of careless, serene dignity, so that now even to herself it seemed hardly to be her pic- ture. For it was the true presentment of a king's daughter, and she no better than a helpless, frightened girl. It seemed to re- proach her, and suddenly she drew herself to her full height and turned to Giraldo, saying: “‘You shall not touch ft.” And she stepped forward, so that she stood between him and the picture, raising her hand and forbidding him to ‘approach it with his knife. And now the picture seemed more to be hers, although while it smiled she frowned. But at this moment there came throvgh the window that opened on the street the clatter of horses’ hoofs. At the sound Gi- raldo arrested the motion that he had al- ready made to fling himself at the princess --whether to kill her or only to thrust her away from the front of the picture she did net krow. Running to the window, he looked out, and called in seeming glee, “It is the king come to see my pictures!” ‘And he looked proud and happy. Going to the door of the room, he flung it open and stood there waiting for the king and the gentle- men who attended the king. They were not long in coming, for Rudolf was full of anger, Impatience and anxiety, and ran swiftly up the staircase. His ‘gentlemen pressed into the room behind him, and Gi- raldo drew back, keeping his face to the king and Towing again and again. But the king and the rest saw the knife in his hand; and ragged strips of painted canvas hung here and there on his clothes, while the princess, pale and proud, stood guard- ing the picture on the easel. The king, in spite of his wonder, was not turned from the purpose which had brought him to the painter's house, but with a quick step dart- ed up to Giraldo and thrust the letter of the Marquis de Merosailles into his hand, bidding him in a sharp, peremptory tone to read it and give what explanation he could of the contents. Giraldo fell to reading of it, while the king turned to his sister in or- der to ask her why she seemed agitated and stood so obstinately in front of her own picture; but at that instant one of the gentlemen, whose name was Ladislas, gave a cry of surprise, for he had looked through the door into the inner room and seen the havoc and destruction that Giraldo had made, and also the strange and terrible picture that alone had escaped the knife. The king, wondering, followed Ladislas to the threshold of the inner room and passed ft, while his gentlemen, full of curiosity, crowded close on his heels after him. The Princess Osra, thinking herself safe, found her anger and terror pass away as her mirth had passed before. Now she felt in her heart that pity which borders on tenderness and which she could never re- fuse to a man that I her, let the folly -of his love and of th travagances into which it drove kim be eat as it would. Turning toward Girald®, ' saw hire fret- ting his puckered brow with his hand and vainly seeking to com) his disordered brain to understand MHde: Merosailles’ let- ter. So she was very’sotry for him, and, knowing the sudden temper to which the careless king was. subject, she glided swiftly across to the painter and whis- pered: “Escape and hiffe,’ Hide for a few days. He will be furious now, but he will soon forget. Don't waft.now, but escape, signor. Some harm will to you here,” and in her Cae 4 Beading with him she laid her hand on farm and looked up in his face with imploring eyes. But he looked at her with d, vacant stare, muttering, “I cannoté*ri the letter;”” then a wistful smile camaon his face and he thrust the letter towkrd her, saying, | “Madame, will you ‘ft for mi And at that moment tirey #4 the king swear an angry oath, for he had seen the mad picture of his sister. “No, no, not no geeching Giraldo. ten, the king is angry! Escape no} we will read the letter afterwar she was as earnest as though she had loved him and -was praying him to save himself for the sake of her love. And he looked into her softened eyes, and suddenly giv- ing a little cry, as if a great joy had come to him unexpectedly and contrary to all likelihood, he dropped M. de Merosailles’ letter and sprang to where his brushes lay on the floor, and seizing them at his pal- ette, he gave another swift glance at the princess and then, turning to the picture, began to paint with marvelous dexterity and deftness and with tle swift confidence of a man inspired to the work. As he worked his brow grew smoother, the ten- sion of his strained face relaxed. happl- ness dawned in his eyes and a smile broke on his lips, and Osra watched him with a tender, sorrowful gaze. Still he painted and he was painting, when the king burst in from the other room, in a great rage, and carrying his sword drawn in his hand, for he had sworn by Our Lady and St.Petcr to kill the rogue who had done the princess such a wrong and sg slandered her beauty. And his gentlemen came in with him, all very ready to see Giraldo killed, but each eager that the king should leave the task to him. Yet, when they entered and saw Giraldo painting as though he were wrapt by some ecstasy, and had forgotten all that had passed, nay, even their very pres- ence, they paused in unwilling and con- strained hesitation, and Osra raised her hand to bid them stay still where they were and not interfere with Giraldo’s painting. For now she desired above all things on earth that he should be left to finish his task. For he thought he had read more than pity and more than ten- derness in Osra’s eyes; he had seemed to see love there, and thus he had cried out in joy, and thus he was now painting as never had even he, for all his skill, painted before. His unerring hand, moving lightly to and fro, imparted the sweetness of his delusive vision to the canvas, so that the eyes of the portrait glowed with wonderful and beautiful love and gentleness. Pres- ently Giraldo began tossing very softly to himself a sweet, happy old song that peasants sang to peasant girls in the fields outside his native Verona on summer even- ings. His head was thrown back in tri- umph and exultation as he sang and work- ed, tasting the luxury of love and glorying in the tribute that his genius paid to her whom he loved. Thus came a moment of great joy to the soul of Giraldo, the paint- er; for a man’s love and a man’s work are, when they seem to prosper, of all things the sweetest, and thelr union in one his life's consummation. It was done. He laid down the brush and drew back a step, looking on what he had done. The princess came softly and slowly, as though attract¢d against her will, and stood by him; she saw that this picture was now, beyond all compare, the most perfect and ‘beatiful of all that he or any other man bad painted of her; and she loved him for thus,glorifying her. But, before many moments had gone by, a sudden start and shiver/tan through Gi- raldo’s body. The spell of his entranced ecstasy broke; his ove fell from the mas- terpiece that he had Hand wandered to those who stood about liim—to the gen- tlemen who did not know whether to won- der or to laugh, to thé angry face of the king and the naked sivord Yn his hand; at last to Osra, whose efes' were still on the picture. And his exuiation vanished, and with ft went, as it seemed to them, his madness. Reason dawned for a moment in his eyes, but was quénched in an instant by shame and despair, For he knew that ail had seen that ot with a stifled ery, he fiung himself full- length on the floor at) Osta’s feet “Let us wait,” said she gently. ‘He will be himself, soo! But the king was too angry to listen. “He has made us fools before half Eu- rope,” he said angrily, ‘and he shall not live to talk of it. And you—have you seen the picture yonder?” “Yes, I have seen it,” sAid she. “But he does not now think that picture like me, but this one.” And she turned to the gen- tlemen and desired them to raise Giraldo and lay him on a couch, and they obeyed. Then she knelt by his head; and, after a while, he opened his eyes, seeming sound of sense in everything except that he be- leved she loved him, so that he began to whisper to her as lovers whisper to their loves, very tenderly and very low. And the king, with his gentlemen, stood a little way off. But the princess said nothing to Giraldo, neither refusing his love nor yet saying what was false; yet she suffered him to talk and to reach up his hand and gently touch a lock of hair that strayed on her forehead. And he, sighing in utter hap- piness and contentment, closed his ey2s again and lay back very quictly on the couch. “Let us go,” said she, rising. “I will send a physician.” And she bade one of the gentlemen lock the inner room and give her the key, and she and the king, and they all, then departed, and sent his ser- vants to go tend Giraldo; and Osra caused the king’s physician also to be summoned. But Giraldo did no more than linger some few days alive; ard for the most of them he was in a high fever, his brain being wild; and he raved about the princess, sometimes railing at her, sometimes prais- ing her; yet once or twice he woke calm and happy, 2s he had been when she knelt by him, and having for his only delusion the thought that she still knelt there and was breathing words of love into his ear. And in this last merciful error, in respect of which the physicians humored him, he one day, a week later, passed away and was at peace. ‘Then the princess came, attended by one gentleman in whom she placed confidence, and she destroyed the evil picture that Giraldo had painted, and having caused a fire to be made, burnt up the pieces of it and all the ruins of the pictures that Giral- do had destroyed. But that on which he had last worked so happily, and with such triumph of art, she carried with her to the palace, and presently she caused copies to be made of it and sent to each of the princes by whom Giraldo had been com- manded to paint her picture, and with it the money he had received, the whole of which was found to be untouched in a cab- net in his house. But the picture itself she hung in her own chamber, and would often look at it, feeling great sorrow for the fate of Giraldo, the painter. Yet King Rudolf could not be prevailed to pity the young man, saying that for his part he should have to be mad befere the love of a woman sheuid drive him mad; and he cursed Giraldo for an insolent knave, declaring that ‘he did ‘well to die of his own accord. And ‘becaus¢ M. de Mero- sailles had gallantly defended his sister's beauty in three duels he sent him by the hands of a great offieer his Order of the Red Rose, which M. de Meroisailles wore with great pride at the court of Versailles. But when the copies of the last picture reached the courts to which'they were ad- dressed, together with the money and a brief history of Giruldo’s mad doings, the princes turned their thoughts again to the matter of the alliance, and several embas- sies set out for Strelsau, so that Princess Osra said with a smile that was half sad, half amused and very whimsical: “I am_much troubled by Yeason of the loss of Signor Giraldo, my painter.’ Se She Was Right. From Life. The benighted barbarian, in accordance With the time-honored custom of his tribe, lay in wait in the grass, waiting for the approach of the maiden whom he had chosen to woo. As soon as she passed, he arose and, with ene blow of the large and knotty club he carried, felled her to the earth. She awoke from the consequent swoon to find herseit flung across his shoulder, as he proceeded toward his hut. Though dazed at first, she realized that she had been proposed to in the regular style. “Dear me, Mr. Gwrrbblu,” she twittered, “this 1s eo sudden!” In her case there was really some excuse for the remark. IS YOUR BRAIN TIRED? Take Horsford’s Acid Phosphate. It supplies the needed food for the brain and nerves and makes exertion casy. RICHES AND POVERTY The Millionaire Ohio Senator Chats Entertainingly Abeut Money. BRICE DISCUSSES NATIONAL POLITICS He Says That Cleveland Candidate. is Not a PROPHESIES GOOD TIMES (Copyrighted, 1895, by Frank G. Carpenter.) NEW YORK, September 18, 1895. HE RED-HEADED baby of a poor Pres- Se byterian parson in DAT an Ohio village when NG ay irr ‘Andrew Jackson was ¢ ; Ww Mf)\|1, Presiaent. iA td | “A red-headed, frec- are go kled-faced boy doing pF SS. cua fobs to Work his way through college / “ZF during the presidency f of James Buchanan. | ‘A private soldier al and captain through- * * out the war, under Abraham Lincoln, and a young lawyer in the country town of Lima, fighting for the bare necessities of life, while Andrew John- son, Ulysses 8. Grant and Rutherford B. Hayes held the reins of state. Such was the record of Calvin 8. Brice up until the time he was thirty-five. This was fifteen years ago. This week he cele- brates his fiftieth birthday. What is he now? He is one of the richest men of the United States. He owns more railroads than you can count on your fingers and toes, and he pours out money like water on everything that will gratify his ambi- tion. When he was married he had to bor- row the money to make his wedding jour- Senator Brice. ney. Today his family spends fortunes in a week, and he has given single dinners which cost $12,000 apiece. During the past summer he has been living in the palace of a millionaire at Newport. His winter home is the great mansion which the mil- lionaire Corcoran owned at Washington, where Daniel Webster entertained when he was Secretary of State, and his New York residence is one of the finest on 5th avenue. He nfakes gold like a Midas and he spends it like a Lucullus. I might better say he spends it like a Caesar. Money is with him only a means to an end, and his ambitions extend wider than those of the million- aire society dazzler. His belly is not his god, and his luxurious surroundings are more for the pleasure of his family than himself. His own desires run rather to business and political power, and he is playing the game of public life in his big, beld way, betting to the full on every hand and ready to rake in everything that may come upon the table. A few years ago he was only a Wall street speculator. Now he is one of the boldest operators of New York, a maker and builder up of great rail- road properties, the United States Senator from Ohio, the closest of the confidential advisers of the President of the United States, and, though he says he does not want it, a possible President himself. How Brice Looks. I knew Senator Brice when he was at the beginning of his remarkable career, “He used to come about the state house at Columbus with his pantaloons in his boots, an old slouch hat on his head and his ctothes spattered with the mud which he had gotten in going over the route of the Ohio Central railroad, his first railroad en- terprise, in which he was interested with Charley Foster, at that’ time governor of the state. His hair was “hen as red as fire. It has since changed to a dark auburn, but with this exception he looks no dif- ferent today than he did then. He dresses a little better, and when I called upon him at his office on Broadway yesterday he wore a light gray business suit which cost, I judge, about $30, with a blue four- in-hand showing out from under his full bright red beard. He has blue eyes, as hard as steel, a ather low forehead of medium breadth, and a nose as prominent as that of any man in the United States Senate. His head is remarkably long from front to back, and It is covered with a thick thatch of curly auburn hair, through which its owner is always running his hands. Senator Brice is a good talker. His mind is as clear as a bell. His answers are quick. He is not afraid to say what he thinks. He is full of ideas, and always has something to say. The Ohio Democracy. I first asked him as to the condition of the Ohio democracy, and whether he thought the party could carry the state. He refused to give any expression as to the chances, and would not answer my query as to whether they had a fighting chance. He said the party was united, and that they had agreed to drop the silver question for the time, and leave the set- tlement of it to practical legislators. He would not say he was a candidate for the United States Senate, stating that there would be time enough for that after the state was carried, and, in short, was de- cidedly non-committal on the’ subject. When I came to hational politics, however, his tongue began to loosen, and he sald: “I think the chance for democratic suc- cess is far better for the national election than for Ohio. There will be a steady im- provement in the times from now on for the thirteen months which must elapse be- fore the national election. The people will attribute their prosperity to the democratic party, and will vote to continue it in power rather than risk the experiment of a change.” “How about the issues, Senator?” “The issues will be those made by the democratic administration, the sustaining of its policy and acts, and the embodiment of the principles which it has upheld. The chief issue will be the record of the party and of President Cleveland, and the ques- tion as to whether it shall’be indorsed or not.” “How about the candidates?” “There will be no trouble in finding good men,” replied Senator Brice. ‘We have plenty of them in the party. I don’t care to narticularize just now. It is too early to make predictions. The man will be de- termined by many things which will occur between now and the convention.” Cleveland Not a Candidate. “How about President Cleveland? he be a candidate for a third term?” “I think not. I don’t believe he wants a third term, nor that he would consent to have his name presented to the convention for that purpose.”” “What is your estimate of Cleveland?” “I think he is the greatest states- man and party leader of his time. He is one of the best Presidents we have ever had, and he has made a great admin- istration. He has placed the democratic party on a high plane, and his democracy, his honesty and his integrity are unsur- yews in the history of our chief execu- tives.” “Wherein is his chief element of great- ness?” “The desire to do the right thing for the American people, regardless of conse- will ‘quences, and the ability to pass quick and Proper judgment upon matters as come up. He has in a marked degree the genius of common-sense, and also that Power of continued attention to business — is one of the attributes of genius it- en you do not consider him an egotist —® great I Am, who considers no other thought than his own?” “No. President Cleveland is not that kind of a man,” replied Senator Brice. “He has a mind of his own, and he acts upon it, but at the same time he advises with others and is careful and conservative in his judg- ment. He is a student of public opinion, and he always wants to know the senti- ment of the people before he decides.” “Has he, on the whole, done good to the democratic party?” “With such a character,” replied the Sen- ator, “he could not do otherwise.” 5 Brice Does Not Want the Presidency. “How about yourself, Senator?’. said I. “Are you a candidate for the presidential nomination?” “No, I am not,” was the emphatic reply. “Will you be a candidate?” “No.” “Still, your name is frequently mentioned, and people think you have ambitions in that way,” said Il. “That may be,” replied Senator Brice. “But people ar2-mistaken. I am a business man, and I have large business interests. Now, I have noted that when a man gets the presidential bee in his hat his business brains fly out of his skull. I am not pre- | aad to leave my business matters, and I ave no desire to be a presidential candi- date.” Campbell and the Presidency. “{ will not say that I have no preferences as to candidates,” Senator Brice went on. “We have a man in Ohio who will make a lig presidential quantity if the election gces our way. I refer to Gov. Campbell. If the state should go democratic he will probably be presented to the convention.” “What kind of a candidate would he make?” “A very strorg one. He has a good rec- ord and all the elements of a popular leader.” “How about the presidency. Is he big enough for the office?” “I think so,” replied Senator Brice. “He has executive ability, and would make a great President.” “But, Senator, do you think the canlidate will come from the west? Heretofore your party has taken all its presidential candi- dates from the east.” “I don’t think the matter of makes much difference,” replicd Senator Erice. “Of course, I, as an Ohio man, am for a man from Ohio as against all others. Outside of that it makes no iifference to me whence the candidate comes. The rail- rcad, the telegraph and the ‘nterchange of social and business interests have made the people of this country a homogeneous whole, not bounded by stated geographical lines. The people don’t care where the candidate comes from. What they want is the right candidate.” A Long Era of Prosperity. “You referred, Senator, to prospective good times. Do you think the present era of prosperity has come to stay?” “Yes,” was the most emphatic reply. “I think we are on the edge of the most pros- percus time we have had for years. I be- lieve for the next eight or ten years at levst that this country will see a business prosperity unequaled in its history or in the history of tne world. Every one of our 75,000,009 people will feel it, and it will be lorg before it passes away. There will be a great development along many lines, and it will be a permanent development.” “Some business men look upon the pres- ent good times as merely a spurt,” said I. “I do not belicve that,” replied Senator Brice. “We are over our panic, which comes periodically every decade or so. We have had our settlement. We have read- justed our business, and we are now riding ‘on the macadamized road of prosperity. It is true, we may have now.and then some shght financial thunder storms, but these will be temporary and local. They will not be lasting nor general.” He Talks of Railroad Investmen “I suppose it is on this basis, Senator, that you have been increasing your rail- way investments. I see that you have bought a number of new roads in the past few weeks.” “Yes,"" replied Senator Brice, “you are right. For the first time in five years the companies with which I am connected have gone into new enterprises. We believe in the future, and are now spending money on that. belief.” “But are vou not afraid, Senator, to in- vest much in railroads, with the great pos- sibilities of electricity, as to their manage- ment? A new invention is liable to come up any day that may revolutionize the etic) of all the railroads of the coun- ry." “That may be so,” replied Senator Brice. “I have interests in electrical matters as well as railroads. I suppose in a change of that kind we shall be able to take care of ourselves. I don’t know that there is locality going to be as much“money in railroads as | in some other lines during the next few Years, but all of my training has been with railroads, and I therefore continue to work in them.” The Heart of America. “You speak of general prosperity. In what parts of the United States do you think the development will be the greatest in the near future?” “In the best part of the United States,” replied Senator Brice, “and in that which is destined to be for all time the greatest and best part of the country. I mean the strip of territory running two hundred miles north and south of New York and extending west to the Missouri river. This is the heart of America, and it will always be so. It will grow immensely within the next few years.” “How about the south, Senator? You have large interests there?” “The south will grow,” replied Senator Brice, “but net like that central belt. The scuthern people will be surprised at the good times which are coming to them. They have an undeveloped empire, with mighty possibilities, and the growth of their section will be for them phenomenal. It will not, however, compare with that of the region I have referred to.” Handling Million “Senator,” said I, “you were a poor boy. you have had to hustle, and hustle hard for the dollar. Now, I wonder how it makes a poor boy feel to handle and control millions.” “There is no difference between handling millions and handling cents,” replied Sen- ator Brice. “It takes no more-exercise of brain power to do great things than to do littie ones. I exercised just as much rainy oe on my small operations as I do now &n my large ones, and it was fully as hard to succeed with the little as the big. lt is much like driving a horse. You may drive one worth $100 or one which is worth $100,000. It takes no more muscle nor care to drive one than the other.” Some Secrets of Success. “You say, Senator, you are not a presi- dential candidate, and that you prefer to devote yourself to business. Have you a great ambition to succeed in this way? What is your highest ideal? What do you hope to do? What is the end?” “I don't know that I have any ambition in that way,” replied Senator Brice. “I have never planned far ahead, never set a point to work for, and striven with all my force for years to gain it. My life has been very full, and I have always aimed to do what was in front of me, with not much thought for the far future. That is what I am doing today.” * “That is probably one of the secrets of your great success, Senator, is it not?” “Yes, I suppose so,” replied the million- alre. “I have concentrated my efforts on the things before me, and have thus been able to throw all my force into the work. Had my energies been frittered away on schemes for the future, I might have done worse.” “But, Senator,” said I, “can you hold yourself in check, and keep to the present? Have you, in short, always perfect control over that entity. which you call yourself?” “Yes, I have,” replied Senator Brice. “I ean think of my business or not, as I please. I can leave it here when I leave my office. I never worry. I have passed through several financial panics, and have seen things looking very dark at times. It has never affected my mental equilibrium. I have just gone ahead, doing the best I could with the things in front of me, and have always come out not much the worse for the wear.” . “Then, I suppose, you sleep well, Sen- ator?” said I. “Always, and that when I please. I could Me down on that table now and go to sleep.” New York Men Not Giants. “How about New York business men, INDIGESTION. From the Standard-Union, N. ¥. Few women have had @ more miserable existence and lived to tell the tale than “Mrs. Anna L. Smith of 311 Pulaski avenue, of Mrs. Smith's life was blasted-for years by the Favages of sickness. The story is most interesting as told to a reporter: “I was an invalid for years, suffering first with one complaint and then with another: My case ‘was truly that of a complication of diseases, due to an accident which’ I'reeeived some years ago. ‘The thing which caused me the most discomfort and made me offensive’ to my family was the worst case of indigestion imaginable. I made all around E & sae 388s i a Ho Fi il q bee dl i Senator?” said I. “You come from one of the country towns of the west. Some of the men out there think that these business men of New York are of a higher order of creation, and are just a little shrewder and sharper than anyothers on the planet.” “I have not found it so,” replied Senator Brice. “We have scores of men ali over Ohio who will average up with these fel- lows here. The difference is that of en- vironment and chances. It is the same here, the same in London and the same in Lima. God made men about the same all the world over. Nature’s yard stick never measures over six feet intellectually any more than physically.” At this point the Senator was called aw: to a railroad meeting, and the interview was forced to a close. FRANK G. CARPENTER. ee A ROYAL TOURIST. The Qucen of y Her Fondnesa for Mountain Climbing. From St. Paul's. Having donned the costume of a Tuscan contadina, in which she lcoks remarkably well, Queen Margherita of Italy is now climbing the mountains around Gressoney. The Gcld Stick once had t! privilege of seeing 2 fine portrait of tie “Pearl Queen” in this attire, so can describe it with a fair amcunt of lucidity. It consists of a short full petticoat of the brightest scarlet, a close-fitting bleck velvet corsage, with braces across the shoulders arranged over a snowy chem‘sette, and large sleeves of cambric. Black silk stockings were worn ané low shoes with hardsome old silver buckles, while a heavy chain, also of sil- ver, hung round the neck and down to the waist. The unrivaled headdress of white linen falling onto the shoulders, and fasten- ed to the hair by iarge stlver pins, which is now unfortunately so rarely seen in Its native heme of Italy, rested on the quecn’s beautiful hair, and completed as charming @ ccstume ay any painter might wish to depict. In making her way through bush and briar, her majesty exchanges the coiffure for a black lAce veil, which is very light ard serviceable. It is drawn down in front that it may afford shade to the eyes, and drocps low behind so as to protect the nape of the neck from the sun. For her real ex- peditions, those when she leaves the hotel at 3 o'clock in the morning and does not return till 9 at night, the queen puts on a tweed suit, with gaiters, and a small caj such as may be seen in the illustratiot of the mountaineering volume of the Bad- m‘.ton Library. Her mcjesty is much more keen on climb- ing now than when at sixteen years of age she was woced and won by her cousin, Prince Humbert of Savoy, but every year she finds it more difficult to secure a com- penion in her wanderings from among the ladies of her court. Noble dames and meiders from the Thirty Cities which pro- vide the queen of the-peninsula with at- tc. dants are eager in proffering their serv- lees what time she is at the Quirmal, at Capo di Mcnte, the castles of Turin, Flo. ence and the rest, but when there is a question of the Val d'Aosta, the rocky sicpes around the Matterhorn, or similar leasure grounds, one and all hold back. Nor*is their reluctance overcome by the kncwledge that their midday meal will con- sisc mainly of a crust of bread and bottle of milk; cr at most a slice of dried goat's flesh. This is eaten in the open air, or if the rain be very heavy and the wind very sherp, in the nearest of those chalets which, 30 picturesque without, are apt to be less desirable within. —~--+e- When the Crops Begin to Move. From the Chicago Record. It feoms the way thet peple act thet troubl air, Fer all the big men's faces look as if ther bad « re: But_fathicr sex it ts no use fer fokes to be wy glum, Fer whe. the crops legin to move ‘Twill . Make ‘Things Hum! Hurd times is all thay talk about, aud how it “used to be’ Before Chicago bad the fair in eighteen ninety« ree: But, father eer sich talk as that is boliow as ¢, re m2, Fer whea the creps begin to move ‘Twill ‘Things ‘Hum! Thay talk about the silver craze an’ siersity of coin, And wonder if there isn't some new “party” thay kin join; father sez It seems to him the peple’s golg the crops begin to move "Twill Make Things ‘Hum! An’ father sex the fellers that has nothin’ els to But set around and talk and talk on things tha( don’t come true Had Wetter git a “move” on them and look for “kingdom come," Fer when the crops begin to move "Twi But ‘Hum! ——__—__---—____ Economical Chemisiry. From the Brooklyn Eagle. Chemistry,lixe a thrifty housewife, econo- mizes every scrap. The horseshoe nails dropped in the streets are carefully col- lected and reappear as swords and guns. The main ingredient of certain ink was once the broken hoop of an old beer barrel. The chippings of the traveling ticker are mixed with the parings of horses’ hoofs and the worst kinds of woolen rags, and these are worked up into exquisite blue dy¢ which graces the dress of courtly dames. +o2+—__—_ Not High-Born. From Truth. Matilda Maloney—“She’s takiz’ on a lot of airs jist because she’s old enough ter Wear a corsick.” 4 Ethel McSwath—“Yes, but she ain’t no heavy swell, fer no real aristocrats don’t never wear their corsicks on de outside of der clothes, like dat.”