Evening Star Newspaper, April 11, 1896, Page 19

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, Qaes5qquqqqqonnnnauououmuqQmueeeeeeeeeeeeeeeSe= APRIL 11, 1896-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. 4 1g The Dream Gown of the Japanese Ambassador BY BRANDER MATTHEWS, Author of “Vignettes of Mauhattan."” + (Copyright, 1896, ty Bacheller. Johnson & Bacheller.) PARTL After arranging the Egyptian and Mexi- an pottery so as to contrast agreeably ‘with the Dutch and the German beer mugs on the top of the book case that ran along one wall of the sitting room, Cosmo Wayn- flete went back into the bed room and took from a half-empty trunk the little card- board boxes in which he kept the collection of playing cards, and all manner of cut- land!sh equivalents for these simple instru- ments of fortune, picked up here and there during his tw or three years of dilettante traveling in strange ceuntries. At the same time he brought out a Japanese crystal ball, which he stood upon its silver tripod, placing it on a little table in one of the windews on each side cf the fireplic: there the rays of the western sun it _up at once into translucent lovelines: The returned wanderer looked out of the window and saw on one side the srace- ful and vigorous tower of che Malison Square Garden, with its D'ana turning in the December wind, while in the other di- Tection he could look down on the frozen paths of Union Square, only a block dis- tant, but as far below him almost as though he was gazing down ‘rom a bal- Joon. Ther he stepped back into the sit- ting room itself, and noted the comfortable furniture and wood fire crackling in friend- | Easy =.) Seq) Waynflete Lay Back in His Chair. ly fashion on the hearth, and his own per- sonal belongings scattered here and there as though they were settling themselves for a stay. Having arrived from Europe only that morning, he could not but hold himself lucky to have found these rooms taken for him by the old friead to whorn he had announced his return, and with whom he was to eat his Chr'stmas dinner that eveniag. He hal not been on shore more than six or seven hours, and yet the most of his odds and ends were unpack-d and alreaGy in place, as though they be- longed in this new abode. It was true that be had toiled unceasingly to accomplish s: and as he stood there in his shirt s, admiring the results of his lators, conscious also that his muscles Were fatigued and that the easy chair be- fore the fire opened its arms temptingly. He went again into the bed room snd tock from one of his many trunks a long, loose garmeat of pale gray silk. Apparent- ly th's beautiful robe was intended to serve as dressing gown, and as such Cosmo Waynflete utilized it immediately. ‘The ample folds fell softly abcut him, and the rich silk itself seemed to be soothing to his limbs, so delicate was its fiber and 30 care- fully had it been woven. Around the full skirt there was embroidery of threads of gold, and agaia on the open and flowing With the skillful freedom of Jap- art the pattern of this decoration to suggest the shrubbery about a for there were strange planis with huge leaves broadly outlined by the golden threads, ard in the midst of them water was seen bubbling from the earth and lap- ping gently ver the edge of the fountain. ed wanderer thrust his arms embrodery on the skirt and sleaves, ke re- membered distinctly the dismal day when he had bo ght it in a little curiosity shop in Nuremberg; and as he fastened across his chest one by one the foops of cord to the three coins which served as buttons down the front of the robe, he re- called also the time and the place where he had picked up each of these pieces of gold and silver, one after another. The first of them was a Persian darie, which he had purebased from a dealer on the Grand canal in Venice, and the second was a Spanish peso, struck under Philip II at Potosi, which he had found in a stall on the embankment of the Quay Voltaire in Paris; ard the third was a York shilling which he had bought from the man who had turned it up in plowing a field that sloped to the Hudson near Sleepy Hollow. Having thus wrapped himself in this un- usual dressing gown, with its unexpected buttons of gold and silver, Cosmo Wayn- flete went back into the front room. He dropped into the arm chair before the fire. It was with a smile of physical satisfaction eek he stretched out his feet to the hickory laze. The afternoon was drawing on. and in New York the sun sets early on Christmas day. The red rays shot into the window almost horizontally, and they filled the crystal globe with a curlous light. Cosmo Yaynflete lay back In his easy chair, with Fis Japanese robe about him, and gazed in- tently at the beautiful ball, which seemed dike a bubble of air and water. His mind went back to the afternoon in April, two years before, when he had found that crystal sphere in a Japanese shop within ight of the incomparable Fugiyama. * . . * . . As he peered into its transparent depths, which vision focused upon the spot of light where the rays of the setting sun teuched it Into flame, he was but little sur- prised to discover that he could make out tiny figures in the crystal. For the mo- ment this strange thing seemed to him per- fectly natural. And the movements of these Hittle men and women interested. him so much that the fixity of his gaze was intensi- fied. And so it was that in a few minutes he saw with no astonishment that he was one of the group himself, he himself in the Tich and stately attire of a samurai. From the instant that Cosmo WayMMete dis- covered himself among the people whom the saw moving before him, as his eyes were fastened on the illuminated dot in the trans- parent ball, he ceased to see them as little figures, and he accepted them as of the full stature of man. This increase in-their size Was no more a source of wonderment to him than it had been to discern himself in the midst of them. He accepted both of these iarvelous things without question, indeed, with no thought at all that they were in any way peculiar or abnormal. Not only this. but thereafter he seemed to have trans- ferred his personality to the Cosmo Wayn- flete who was a Japanese samural, and to have abandoned entirely the Cosmo Wayn- flete who was an American traveler, and who had just returned to New York that Christmas morning. So completely die the Japanese identity dominate that the exist- erce of the American identity was wholly unknown to him. It was as though the American had gone to sleep in New York at the end of the nineteenth century and had waked a Japanese in Nippon in the be- ginning of the eighteenth century. With his sword by his side—a Murimasa blade, likely to bring bad Iuck to the wearer sooner or later—he had walked from his own house in the quarter of Kioto which is called Yamashina to the quarter which is called Yoshiwara, a place of ill repute, Where dwell women of evil life and where Toysterers and drunkards come by night. He knew that the sacred duty of avenging his master’s death had led him to cast off his faithful wife so that he might pretend to riot in debauchery at the Three Sea Shores. ‘The fame of his shameful doings had spread abroad, and it must soon come to the ears of the man whom he wished to take un- awares. Now he was lying prone in the Street, seemingly sunk in a drunken slum- ber, so that men might see him and carry ' the news to the treacherous assassin of his ed master. As he lay there that after- moon he revolved in his mind the devices he should use to make away with his enemy Shen the hour might be ripe at last for the accomplishment of his holy revenge. To himself he called the roll of his. fellow ronins, now biding their time, as he was, and ready always to obey his orders and to follow his lead to the death, when at last the sun should rise on the day of vengeance. So he gave no heed to the scoffs and the Jeers of those who passed along the street, lJaughing him to scorn as they beheld him lying there in a stupor from excessive drink at that inordinate hour of the day. And among those who came by at last was a man from Satsuma who was moved to voice the reproaches of all that saw this sorry sight. “Is not this Oishi Kuranosuke?” said the man from Satsuma, “who was a councillor of Asano Takumi no Kami, and who, not having the heart to avenge his lord, gives himself up to women und wine? Sce how he lies drunk m the public street: Faith- less beast! Fool and craven! Unworthy of the name of a samurai!” And with that the man from Satsuma trod on him as he lay there and s,at upon him, and went away indignantly. ‘The spies of Kotsuke no Suke heard what from Satsuma had said and they he had spurned the prostrate samuzai with his foot; ane they went their way to re- o their master that he need no longer any fear of the councillors of Asaad ni no Kami All this the onan, lying Prone in the dust of the str noel; and it made his heart glad, for then he made ut the. day was sovua coming when kl do his duty at las' id take ‘aseance for the death of his master. = * * . . . ve * He lay trere longer than he knew, and he twilight settled down at last, and the ing stars came out. And then, after awhile, and by imperceptible degrees Cos- mo Wayniieie became cons:ix1is that the scene had changed and that he had changed wita it. He was no longer in Japan, but in Per. He was no longer lyiag like a drunkard in the street of a city, but slum- be: ike a weary soldier in a litt “le cf a spring in the midst of a rt. He was asleep, and his f1i sic was hot .and th and the leaves of the slim tree above him were never stured by a wandering -ind Yet now and again there came from the dark- ness a faintly fetid odor. The evening Wore on and still he slept, until at length in the silence of the night a strange huge creature wormed its way steadily out of its lair amid the trees, and drew near the siceping man to devour him fierceiy. But the herse neighed vehemently, and beat the ground with his hoofs and waked his master. Then the hideous monster vanish- ed; and the man, aroused from his sleep, saw nothing, although the evil smell still lingered in the sultry atmosphere. He lay down sgain once more, thinking that for ence his steed had given a false alarm. Again the grisly dragon drew nigh, and again the courser notified {ts rider, and again the man could make out nothing in the darkness of the night; and again he was well-nigh stifled by the foul emanation that trailed in the wake of the misbegot- ten creature. He rebuked his horse and jaid him down once more. A third time the dreadful beast approach- ed and a third time the faithful charger awoke its angry master. But there came the breath of a gentle breeze, so that the man did not fear to fili his lungs; and there was a vague light in the- heavens now, so that he could dimly discern his mighty enemy; and at gnce he girded him- self for the fight. The Scaly monster came full at him with dripping fangs, its mighty body thrusting forward its huge and hid- eous head. The man met the attack with- out fear and smote the beast full on the crest, but the blow rebounded from its coat of mail. The Sealy Monster Came Fall at Him. Then the faithful horse sprang forward and bit the dreadful creature full upon the neck and tore away the scales, so that its; master’s sword could pierce the armored hide. So the man was able to dissever the ghastly neck and thus to slay the mon- strous dragon. The blackness of night wrapped him about once more as he fell on his knees and gave thanks for his vic- tory; and the wind died away again. PART II. Only a few minutes after, so It seemed to him, at least, Cosmo Waynflete became doubtfully aware of another change of time ard plaze—of another transforma- tion of his own being. He knew him- Self to be alone once more, and even with- out his trusty charger. Again he found bimself groping in the dark. But in a little while there was a faint radiance of light; and at last the moon came out from behind a tower. Then he saw that he was not by the roadside tn Japan or im the desert of Persia, but now in some unknown city of southern Eurove, where the architecture was Hispano-Moresque. By the silver rays of the moon he was able to make out the beautiful design dam- ascened upon the blade of the sword which he held now in his hand ready drawn for self-defense. Then he heard hurried foo:fails down the empty street, and a man rushed around the ccrner ‘pursued by two others, who had also weapons in their hands. For the moment Cosmo Waynflete was a Span- iard, and to him it was a point of honor to aid the weaker party. He cried to the fugitive to pluck up heart and to withstand the enemy stoutly. But the hunted man fled on, and after him went one of the pur- suers, a tall, thin fellow, with a long black cloxk streaming behind him as he ran. The other of the two, a handsome lad, with fair hair, came to a hait and crossed swords witn Cosmo, and soon showed him- self to be skilled in the art of fence. So violent was the young fellow’s attack that in the ardor of self-defense Cosmo ran the boy through the body before he had time to hold his hand or even to reflect. The lad toppled over sideways: “Oh! my mother!” he cried, and in a second he was dead. While Cosmo bent over the hody Cosmo Raz the Boy Through. hasty footsteps aguin echoed aloyg ‘the silent thorouglfare. Cosmo peered around the corner, and by the struggling moon- beams he could see that was the: tall, thin fellow in the black cloak, who was re- turning with half a ‘score of retainers, all armed and some of them bearing torches. Cosmo turned and fied swiftly, but be- ing a stranger in the city he soon lost himself in its tortuous streets. Seeing a lignt in a window and observing a vine that trailed from the balcony before it, he climbed up boldly, and found himself face to face with a gray-haired lady, whose Visage was beautiful and kindly and noble. In a few words he told her his plignt and besought sanctuary. She listened to him in silence, with exceeding courtesy of man- ner, as though she were weighing his words before making up her ‘nind. She raised the lamp on her table and let its beams fall on his lineaments. And etill she made no answer to his anpeal. Then came a glare of torches in the street below and a knocking at the door. Then at last the old lady came to a resolu- tion; she lifted the tapestry at the head of her bed and told him to bestow himself there. No sooner was he hidden than the tall, thin man in the long black cloak en- tered hastily. He greeted the elderly lady as his aunt, and he told her that her ecn had been set upon by a stranger in the street and had been slain. She save a great cry and never took her eyes from his face. Then he said that a servant kad Seen an unknown man climb to the bal- cony of her house. What if it were the assassin of her son? The blood left her face and she clutched at the table behind her, as she gave orders to have the house searched. When the room was empty at last, she went to the head of the bed and bade the man concealed there to come forth and be- gone, but to cover his face that she might not be forced to know him again. So say- ‘ng, she dropped on her knees before a crucifix, while he slipped out of the window again and down to the deserted street. « He sped to the corner and turned it un- discovered and breathed a sigh of relief and of regret. He kept on steadily, gliding stealthily along in the shadows, until he found himself at the city gate, as the bell of the cathedral tolled the hour of mid- night. . . . . . . . How it was that he passed through the gate he could not declare with precision, for seemingly a mist had settled about him. Yet a few minutes later he saw that in some fashion he must have got beyond the walls of the town, for he recognized the open country all around. And oddly enough he now discovered himself to be astride a bony steed. He could not say what manner of horse it was he was rid- ing, but he felt sure that it was not the faithful charger that had saved his life in Persia, once upon a time, in days long gone by, as it seemed to him then. He was not in Persia now—of that he was certain, noz in Japan, nor in the Spanish peninsula, Where he was he did not know. In the dead hush of midnight he could hear the barking of a dog on the opposite shore of a dusky and indistinct waste of Waters that spread itself far below hint ‘The night grew darker and darker, the Stars seemed to sink deeper in the sky, anu driving clouds occasionally hid them from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and dismal. In the center of the road stood an enormous tulip tree; its limbs were gnarled and fantastic, large enough to form trunks for ordinary trees, twisting down almost to the earth, and rising again into the air. As he approached this fearful tree, he thought he saw something white hanging in the midst of it, but on looking more nar- rowly he perceived it was a place where it had been scathed by lightning and the white wood laid bare. About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook crossed the road; and as he drew near he beheld— on the margin of this brook, and in the dark shadow of the grove—he beheld some- thing huge, misshapen, black and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up in the gloom like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveler. He demanded in stammering accents, “Who are you?” He received no reply. He repeated his demand in a still more agitat- ed voice. Still there was no answer. And then the shadowy object of alarm put it- self in motion and with a scramble and a bound stood in the midcle of the road. He appeared to be a horseman of large di- mensions and mounted en a black horse of powerful frame. Having no relish for this j Strange midnight companion, Cosmo Wayn- flete urged cn his steed in hopes of leaving the apparition behind; but the stranger quickened his horse also to an equal pace. And when the first horseman pulicd up, thinking to lay behind, the second did like- wise. There was something in the moody and dogged silence of this pertinacious spmpanion that was mysterious and appal- ling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. On mounting a rising ground which brought the figure of his fellow traveler against the sky, gigantic in height and muffled in a cloak, he w&s horror-struck to discover the stranger was headless!—but his horror was still more increased in observing that the head which should have rested on the shoulders was carried before the body on the pommel of the saddle. The terror of Cosmo Waynflete rose to desperation and he spurred his st iy in the hope of giving his w panion the slip. But the headless norseman started full jump with him. His own horse as though possessed by a demon plun: headlong down the hill. He could hear, however, the black steed panting and blowing close behind him; he even fancied that he felt the hot breath of the pursuer. When he vertured at last to cast a look behind, he saw the goblin rising in the stirrups, and in the very act of hurling at him the grisly head. He fell out of the saddle to the ground; and the black sieed and the goblin rider passed by him like a whirlwind. . . . . . . . How long he lay’ there by the roadside, stunned and motionless, he could not His Own Horse Plunged Headlong Down the Hill. guess; but when he came to himself at last the sun was already high in the heavers. He discovered himself to be re- clining on the tall grass of a pleasant graveyard which surrounded a little coun- try church in the outskirts of a pretty little village. It was in the early summer and the foliage was green over his head as the boughs swayed gently to and fro if the morning breeze. The birds were singing gayly as they flitted about over his head. The bees hummed along from fiow- er to flower. At last, so it seemed to him, he had come into a land of peace and quiet, where there was rest and comfort and where no man need go in fear of his life. It was a country where vengeance was not a duty and where midnight combats were not a custom. He found himself smil- ing as he thought that a grisly dragon and a goblin rider would be equally out of place in this laughing landscape. Then the bell in the steeple of the little church began to ring merrily and he rose to his feet in expectation. All of a sudden the knowledge came to him why it was that they were ringing. He wondered then why the coming of the bride was thus delayed. He knew himself to be a lover with life opening brightly, before him; and the world seemed to him’ sweeter than ever before end more beautiful. Then at last the girl whom he loved with his whole heart and who had prom- ised to marry him appeared in the distance, and he thought he had never seen her look more . As he beheld his bridal party approaching, he slipped into the church to await her at the altar. T ine fell full upon the portal and made a halo about the girl’s head as she crossed the threshold. But even when the bride si by his side and the clergyman had begun the scene pence Gre church, the bells ept on, and soon their chiming became a Spire louder and sharper, and more in- ent 4 PART It. So clamorous and so persistent was the ringing that Cosmo Waynflete was roused at last. He found himfelf suddenly stand- ing on his feet, with his hand clutching the back of the chair in which he had been sitting before the firéjihen the rays of the setting sun had set long ago, and the room was derk, for if was lighted now only by the embers of the burnt-out fire; and the electric bell was ringing steadily as though the man o the door had resolved to waken inelhtben sleepers. Then Cosmo Waynflete was wide awake again; and he knew where he was once Mmore—not in Japan, not in Persia, not in Lisbon, not in Sleepy Hollow, but here in New York, in his own ‘room, before his own fire. He opened the door at once and admitted his friend, Stuyvesant. “it isn’t dinner time, fs it?” he asked. “Tm not late, am 1? The fact is, I've been asleep.” “It is so good of you to confess that.” his friend answered, laughing; “although the length of time you kept me waiting and ringing might have led me to suspect it. No, you are not late and it is not din- ner time. I've come around to havé an- Ge fhat with you before dinner, that’s “Take this chair, old man,” said Cos- mo, as he threw another hickory stick on the fire. Then he lighted the gas and sat down by the side of his friend. “This chair is comfortable, for a fact,” Stuyvesant declared, stretching himself out luxuriously. ‘(No ‘wonder you went. to sleep. What did you dream of?—strange Places you had seen in your travels or the homely scenes of your native land?” Waynflete looked at his friead for a mo- Ment without answering the question. He was startled as he recalled the extraordi- nary series of ¢ iventures which had fallen to his lot since he had fixed his gaze on the crystal ball. It seemed to him as though he hed been whirled through space and through time. “I suppose every man fs always the hero of his own dreams,” he began, doubtfully. “Of course,” his friend returned; “in sleep our natural and healthy cgotism is absolutely unrestrained. It :oesn't make any matter where the scene is la!d, or whether the play is a comedy or a tragedy, the dreamer has always the center of the pee with the calcium light turned full on “That's just ‘t,"" Waynflete went on. “This dream of mine makes me feel as if I were an actor, and as ‘f I had been playing many parts, one after the other, in the swiftest succession. They are not familiar to me, and yet I confess to a vague feeling of unoriginality. It as though I was a plagtarist of adventure—if that be a possi- ble supposition. I have just gone through these startling s!tuat‘ons myse'f, and yet I'm sure that they have all of them hap- pened before—although, perhaps, not to any one man. Indeed, no ome man could have had all these adventures of mine, be- cause I see rew that I have been whisked through the centuries and across the hem- ispheres with a suddenness possible only in dreams. Yet all my experiences seem somehow second hand and not really my own. “Picked up here and there—Ii a-brac?” suggested Stuyvesant. are these alluring adventures of yours that stretched through the ages and across the continents Then, knowing how fond his friend was ef solving mysteries and how prow] he was of his skill in this art, Cosmo Waynflete dream as it has been set down pages. first remark was: “I'm sorry I hap- pened along just then and waked you up before you had time to get mar Mas Then He Lighted the Gas. His second remark followed half a min- ute later. “I see how It was,” he sald. “You were sitting in this chair and looking at that crystal ball, which focused the level rays of the setting sun, I suppose? Then it is plain enovgh—you hypnotized yourself!” “I've heard that such a thing is possi- responded Cosmo. “Possible?” Stuyvesant returned; “it is certain! But what is more curious Is the new way in which you combined your self- hypnotism with crystal gazing. You have heard of scrying, I suppose?” “You mean the practice of looking into a drop of water or a crystal ball or any- thing of that sort,” said Cosmo—‘and of seeing things in it—of seeing people mov- ing about?” “That's just what I do mean,” his friend returned. “And that’s just what you have been doing. You fixed your gaze on the ball and so hypnotized yourself; and then in the intensity of your vision you were able to see figures in the crystal—with one of which visualized emanations you im- mediately identified yourself. That’s easy enough, I think. But I don’t see what sug- gested to you your separate experiences. I recognize them, of course—" “You recognize them?” cried Waynflete in wonder. “I can tell you where you borrowed every one of your adventures,” Stuyvesant re- plied. “But what I'd like to know now is what suggested to you just those char- acters and situations, and not others also stored away in your subconsciousness.” So saying he began to look about the room. “My subconsciousness?” repeated Wayn- flete. “‘Have I ever been a samurai in my subconsciousneéss ?” Paul Stuyvesant looked at Cosmo Wayn- fiete for nearly a minute without reply. ‘Then all the answer he made was to say: = t's a queer dressing gown you have © “It is time I took it off,” said the other, ‘Suiting the action to the word. “It is a beautiful specimen of weaving, isn’t it? I call it the dream gown of the Japanese am- bassador, for although I bought it in a curiosity shop in Nuremburg, it was once, I really believe, the slumber robe of an oriental envoy.” Stuyvesant took the his friend’s hand. “Why did the Japanése ambassador sal! you his dream gown {n°a Nuremberg cu- riosity shop?” he asked. “He. didn’t,” Waynflete explained, “I never saw the ambassador, and neither did the old German lady who kept the shop. She told me she bought it from a Japanese acrobat who was out of an engagement and desperately hard up. But she told me also that the acrobat had told her that the gar- ment had belonged to an’ ambassador, who had given it to him as & teward of his skill, and that he never would have parted with it if he had not been dead broke.” Stuyvesent held the fobe up to the light and inspected the embrofdery on the skirt 0! it. “Yes,” he said, at count for it, I suppose, This bit here was probably meant to suggest ‘the well where the head was washed’—see?” “TI see that those lines may be meant to represent the outline of a spring of water, but I don’t see what that has to do with my dream,” Waynfiete answered. “Don’t you?” Stuyvesant returned. “Then Tl show you. Yqu had on this silk gar- ment embroidered here with an outline of the well in which was washed the head of Kotsuke no Suke, the man whom the Forty- Seven Ronins killed. You know the story?” “T read it in Japan, but—” began Cosmo. “You had that story stored away in your subconsciousness,” interrupted his friend. “And when you hypnotized yourself by r= ing into the crystal ball this embroidery it was which suggested to you to see your- self as the hero of the tale—Oishi Kurano- suke, the chief of the Forty-Seven Ronina, the faithful follower who avenged his mas- ter by pretending to be viclous and dissi- pated—just ke Brutus and Lorenzaccto— until the enemy was off his guard and open to ati “I thipk I do recall the tale of the Forty- silken garment from “this would ac- mn he had made an end, Paul Stuyve- | Seven Ronins, but only very vaguely,” said the hero of the dream. “For all I know I may have had the adventure of Kuranosuke laid on the shelf somewhere in my subconsciousness, as you want me to believe. But-how about my Persian dragon and my Iberian noblewoman?” Paul Stuyvesant was examining the dream gown cf the Japanese ambassador with minute care. Suddenly he said: “Oh!” and then he looked up at Cosmo Waynilete and asked: “What are those buttons? They seem to be old coin: “They are old coins,” the other answered; “it was a fancy of mine ‘o utilize them on that Japanese dressing gown. They are all different, you see. The first is—” “Persian, isn’t it?” interrupted Stuy- vesant. “Yes,” Waynflete explained, “it ts a Per- sian daric. And the second is a Spanish peso made at Potosi under Phillip II for use in America. And the third is a York shil- ling. one of th2 coins in circulation here in New York at the time of the revolution—I got that one, in fact, from the farmer who plowed it up in a field at Tarrytown, near ‘Sunnyside.’ ” “Then there are three of your adventures accounted for, Cosmo, and easily enough,” Paul commented, with obvious satisfaction at his own explanation. “Just as the e! broidery on the silk here suggested to you after you had hyprotized yourself that you were the chief of the Forty-Seven Ronins, so this first coin here in turn suggested to you that you were Rustem, the hero of the ‘Epic of Kings.’ You have read the ‘Shah- Nameh?’” “I remember Firdausi’s poem after a fashion only,” Cosmo answered. ‘Was not Rustem a Persian Hercules, so to speak?” “That's it, precisely.” the other responded, “ard he had seven labors to perform, and you dreamed the third of them, the slaying of the grisly dragon. For my own part, I think I should have preferred the fourth of them—the meeting with the lovely enchant- ress—but that’s neither here nor there.” “It seems to me I do recollect something about that fight of Rustem and the strange Res oot “So can I,” snid Paul Stuyvesant. beast. The faithful horse's name was Rakush, wasn't it?’ asked Waynflete. “If you caa recollect the ‘Shah-Nameh,” Stuyvesant pursued, “‘no doubt you can re- call also Beaumont and Fletcher's ‘Custom of the Country?’ That's where you got the midnight duel in Lisbon and the magnani- mous mother, you know.” “No, I don’t know,” the other declared. “Well, you did, for all that,” Paul went on. ‘The situation is taken from one in a a of Calderon's, and it was much gthened in the taking. You may not now remember having read the play, but the incident must have been familiar to you, or else your subconsciousness couldn't have yiellled it up to you so readily at the suggestion of that Spanish coin, could it?” “I did read a lot of Elizabethan drama in my senior year at college,” admitted Cos- mo, “and this piece of Beaumont and Fletcher's may hav2 been one of those I reai—but I totally fail to recall now what it was all about.’ “You won't have the cheek to declare that you don’t remember the ‘Legend of epy Hollow,’ will you?” asked Stuyve- nt. “Very obviously it was the adven- re of Ichabod Crane and the Headless Horseman that the York shilling suggested to you.” “I'll admit that I do recollect Irving’s story now,” the other confessed. So the embroidery on the dreamgown gives the first of your strange situations; and the three others vere suggested by the coins you. have been using as buttons,” said Paul Stuyvesant. “There is only one ve ee — eaees me—that is the ‘cuntry church and the noon wed the beautiful bride.” ans ana And with that he turned over the folds of the silken garment that hung cver his arm. Cosmo Waynflete hesitated a moment and a blush mantled his cheek. Then he looked his friend in the face-and said: “I think I can account for my dreaming about her—I ccount for that easily enough.’ “So can I,” said Paul Stuyvesant, as he held up the photograph of a lovely Ameri- ace Toate had just found in the cket of the dream-gown auinteeedon 5-4 of the Japanese (The End.) —. ___ THE WORLD'S BIGGEST WATCH. It is Four Inches Wide, Gold, and Weighs Two Pounds. Frem the New York World. The largest watch in the world was made in London for William Wilkens of Balti- more. It is kept by his sons as an heirloom. Mr. Wilkens was an odd man in many Ways. One of his peculiar desires was to Poszess things that were entirely different from other things in the world. His big watch was a mafifestaticn of this trait. It cost him $2,500. He ordered it in 1866, but it was not finished until 1868. The massive gold chain, to which it was attached, weighs four pounds and cost $400. It was made in this country. The watch—a repeater—weighs two ounds lacking an ounce. The hunting case, is of eighteen-carat gold and is sSeven-eighths of an inch thick. The white enamel dial is four inches in diameter. The case is elab- crately engraved inside and outside, the de- sign on the front representing Mr. Wilkens’ Baltimore factory and residence. The en- graving on the back represents Mr. Wilkens and his favorite old white horse, for which he had as much affection as it is Possible for one to have for a dumb animal. _Mr. Wilkens, who was very wealthy when he died, began life in a humble way. He started business by wheeling home in a bar- row the hair and bristles which he gathered at the Baltimore slaughter houses, there sorting and preparing them for market. The business grew steadily and Mr. Wilkens pur- chased a horse and wagon, abandoning the wheelbarrow. The horse, however, was rever deserted. When it became too old to work it was cared for tenderly, and when it died Its owner purchased a plot of ground opposite his residence and buried it there. When his huge watch was made he gave his faithful old horse equal prominence with himself in the engraving on the case.” Mr. Wilkens carried this big watch to the day of his death. The chain, which is about four feet long, was worn about his neck. He had en extra large pocket made in each of his vests to hold the watch. Some idea of the immensity of the timeplece may be gained by knowing that the largest wateh now occasionally manufactured for the trade has a case two inches wide and a dial one and three-quarter inches wide. The diameter of the watch is nearly four and a quarter inches. 2+. Written for The Evening Star. “Church Bells.” T've set an endless measure to that chime, Sweet evening bells! My heart dissolved in prayer, my prayer im rhyme, ‘Sweet evening bells! Now, summer days are drifted to the past, No roses blow ‘To ceatter petals, when the wind runs fast, And day dips low. Now fallen moonbeams hang on boughs of ica, On hedge of speers; So time will Grape the shapes of our device ‘With frozen teara, Yet tuneful are those tongues with histories, ‘They tell, they dare! ‘Yet mellow are those throats with mysteries, Divinely fair. ‘When I He silent in the last long sleep = Of dreamlces death, I would thelr Joyous tenor they might keep, ‘Though hushed my breath. T'd-have the rapture rise 10 heaven's shore, Of great bells swung, Melodious to peal, implore, adore With gushing tongue. Not tolling—drepping like the soul's despair, In tron tears, But thrilling—itke the pulses that we bear, Immortal years. . ~—MARY BUCKNER SPIERS, MAJOR W. W. ROBBINS. Framer-of the Indiana Military Bill Made - Mejor Robbins of the second Indiana state guards, ald on Gen. MeKee's staff, und president of Camp Gray, has been for two years one of the most in- fluential members of the Indiana legislature, and the author of the femcus Itdiana military law of 1889, Major Robbins was a very sick man up to the time of taking Pcine’s celery ccmpound. In proof of whut that remarkable remedy can do to make a sick person strong and well, Major Rob- Dins’ Ietter from Indianapolis best tells its own straightforward story. “I was troubled with a torpid liver, constipation end the accompapying sallow complexion, while my eutire nervous system was entirely deranged, and I was greatly reduced in flesh. While in this con- Gition I was taken down with a very severe attack of the grip, and was for a long time confined to the house ond my bed. “I resorted to various medicines and tonics, and under their temporary influence tiinde several at- tempts te resume my business of traveling about in the interests of A. Steffen, cigar menufacturer, of this city; but relapse succeeded rélapaec, and I not only yas obliged to abandon my business, but grow- ing gradually worse, became apprehensive of the ultimate result. “At this jumture my mother-in-law, who had used your rumedy with gratifying resultx, prevailed upon ime to commence taking Paine’s celery com- pound, ond it gives me great pleasure to state that I at once began to feel its beneficial effects. ‘Well'by Paine's Celery Compound, “My appetite, which had failed me, retarned, my covatipation ceased, and very soon my Hver became normal im its action. Following this my sieepless- ness and heednches ceased, and J began to gain feah. The insidious bold on me that the grip hod Mtherto had was relaxed, and I feit invigorated and strengthened, so 1 could renew my vorntion, and feel free trom the languld, enervated feclivg that had so leng possessed me. “My friends were pleasantly surprised with the cLrnge in my confition, and I was cnly too happy to recommend Paive’s celery compound to such of my acquaintances as were suffering from any of the complaints which #0 complicated my case. There- fore I again say I feel impelled by a deep sense of gratitude to express how much I have been helped, for I now feel and look lke a new man. Physicians who rely om Painc’s celery compound — as thousands of the most wideawake members of the profession are doing, especially now that nearly every one feel: need of a genuine speing rem- icians know very well what that lenguor t tired feeling means. They know that de- Dility today often results jn merous prostration to- morrow, unless the tired system ie quickly in- vigetated. ‘That is why all over the country today Puine’s celery compound ts being taken by the advice of skilled physicians. IF is the one remedy that phy- siciros can comscienitoasly call a geuuine spring remedy. Try it. PAINTED IN THREE HOURS. An Artist's Strange Commission and the Way He Executed It. From the New York Herald. Daniel Huntington, former president of the National Academy, related recently an odd art experience. The conversation had been on Sir John Millais and his portrait work, and this reminded Mr. Huntington of how, at one time, he painted a portrait in three hours. “I don’t recail all the circumstances ex- actly,” began the veteran of the easel, “but I do remember that the man came very hurriedly to my studio one morning. He announced that he had just come from the west, that he had heard of me, and wanted me to paint his portrait—it was to be a present, as I remember, for his wife. ‘But,’ he said, taking out his watch, ‘I sail for Europe this afternoon. All my business bas been finished, and I can give you—let see—three hours.’ “Of course, I declared that painting a portrait under such conditions was abso- lutely impossible. But he refused to accept my refusal. He declared that he had come to New York some hours ahead of time es- pecially for this; that he would have no- body else paint him, and that he would not be disappointed. I could have a week to finish the portrait after he had gone. “I made the experiment, but declined to be responsible for the picture’s success. Never before had I painted so rapidly, and never since. During the latter part of the time my sitter held his watch in his hand. Precisely at the expiration of the three ; hours he left me. * From memory I finished it within a few days, and it pleased the persons it went to. But it was a strange experience.” ——— -s0+ Jumped Thirty-one Feet. “The most tremendous leap I ever knew a horse to take,” says Sir Claude de Cres- pigny, in his memoirs, “was out with the Cheshire hounds at Marbury, in 1870. A fine mare I was riding cleared a five-foot fence with a bound that covered over thirty- one feet. We measured it Girectly after- ward, and it was stated at the time to be the second best jump in point of length on record, the best being thirty-three feet. This latter jump, however, which was per- formed by Chandler, at Warwick, is open to much doubt. After the horse had made it his rider had to finish the race, weigh in and dress before taking any measurements. Meanwhile several spectators on horseback bad ridden over the course. eee A Very Severe Mother. From Pearson's Week!y. A very estimable widow has a son who is far from estimable. His poor mother Is nearly broken-hearted. She was confiding her troubles one day to an old and trusted friend. “I am afraid,” said her friend, “that you are not firm enough with John; you are too easy with him.” “On the contrary, I am afraid sometimes that I am too harsh.” “Why, what have you ever done?” “Oh, I haven't done anything, but I have talked to him a good deal.” 2 hat have you said?” ‘Why, I have said, ‘John, John, John!’ and other severe things.” ONLY THREE MONARCHS CROWNED. The Coming Coronation of the Czar and Czarina Will Be Unique. From a London Letter. The magnificert and costly preparations new going on at Moscow and elsewhere for the apprcaching coronation of the czar and czarina recall to mind the fact that very few European sovereigns have gone through the ancient ceremonies which constitute a “duly anointed king.” With the exception of Queen Victoria, ‘the nperor King of Austria, Bohemia and Hungary, and King Oscar of Sweden, no other reigning monarch has been consecfated by religious rite. In the case of the King of Italy there were obvious reasons why the services of the church should have been dispensed with. It is less intelligible that so Catholic a king as Carlos of Portugal should bave been con- tent to take the oath. in the cortes and at- tend a “Te Deum” only im the cathedral. A mere oath, too, sufficed for the establish- ment of King George upon the somewhat rickety Hellenic throne. The crowns of Holland and Spain, of course, are, so to speak, in commission. As to the kaiser, he did not even care to ¢o through the formality observed by his grendfather, who put the crown upon his own head, but deemed it enough to make a solemr declaration at the opening of the imperial parliament. —>ae— Then He Went Ho From the Indiaaapolis Journal. ‘The young man who had traveled began: “And there I stood, the abyss yawning at my feet—" “Was it yawning before you got there, or did it begin after you arrived?” asked the young woman who has never been away, and then the young man found that he had just time to catch the last car. Sorry From the Somerville (Mass.) Journal. Angry Passenger (to conductor who has just enforced a rule)—‘You'll be sorry for this! I'll see that you are reported to head- quarters. I want you to understand, sir, that I am the wife of the president of this company!” Conductor (sympatheticaliy)—“Well, mum, I have alw: understood that even the great and powerful have their sorrows, just Uke the rest of us.’ see And There Was No Blood Shed, From the San Francisco Post. I overheard the following conversation on a Market street car yesterday between a couple of young men: “I told you that fellow Moore was a scoun- “You did?” And the other commenced looking his friend over for dences of a conflict. “What did he say “Oh, I didn’t listen to him. I told him he was a liar, a thief and a scoundrel, and that I would punch his nose if he said a word to me. ‘What did he do?” ‘Nothing; he is a coward.” “I don’t believe that. .I have seen him fight at the drop of a hat. Didn't he say a word back?” “I don't know; I hung up the telephone.” = 7