Evening Star Newspaper, March 12, 1898, Page 16

CHAPTER Continued. Elissa awoke from her vision with a lit- tle cry, then rose trembling and strove to ecmfort herself with the thought that she bad but dreamed a dream, though it was a very vivid one. Still shaken and unnerved, she passed into another chamber and :nade e to eat of the meal that was made dy for Fer, for it was now the hour uf unset. While she was thus employed it was announced that the Phoenician Metem esirel to speak with her, and she com- led that he should be admitted. Lady.” he said, bowing as soon as her endants had withdrawn to the further i of the chamber, “you can guess my errand. This morning I gave you certain tidings, which proved both true and useful, ard for those tidings you promised a re- ward It is so,” she said, and going to a chest she drew from it an tvory casket fuil of naments of gold and of necklaces and mat at other objects set with uncut precious stones. “Take them,” she said, “they are your. at is, save this gold chain alone, for it is vowed to Baaltis. But, lady,” he asked, “how can you ap- pear before Ithobal, the king, thus robbed of all y “T ur ornaments’ hall not appear before Ithobal, .”" she answered, sharply. “You say so. Then what will the Prince Aziel think of you when he sees you thus uradorned?” the My beauty Is my adornment,” she re- “not these gems and gold. More- s naught to me what he thinks, » hates me and has reviled m Metem: lifted his rows incredulously, and went on. il, I will not deprive you of this woman's gear. Look, now, I value it, and at no high figure,” and drawing out his writer's palette and a slip of papyrus, he wrote upon it an acknowledgment of debt, which he asked her to sign. “This document, lady,” he sald, “I wil ‘sent to your father at a convenient sea- r do I fear that he will refuse to And now I take my leave, for ve an appointment to keep, and,”’ 1, with emphasis, “the time of other nour. -m owed politely, but in a fashion jowed that he put no faith in her ain I ask your meaning,” she said, © your cark hintings are scarcely to be -nician looked at her. There was h in her voice. Lady.” he said, “will you indeed deny, er I have seen it written by yourself, at within some few minutes you meet the Prince Aziel beneath the great tree in the palace gardens, there—so said the scroil : sak s aid in this matter of the suit Written by myself?" gly. “Meet th she said, wonder- Prince Aziel beneath the gardens? Never have J scroll I saw purported to y you, and your own woman bore it to the prince. Yonder, as I think, sits at the end of the chamber, for I ow her shape ‘Come hither the woman was this Priice A “Lady. called Elissa, addre: >w. tell me, what you carried today to ying that I sent it?” swered the girl, confusedly. the Prince Aziel that you seroll.”* e truth, woman, the truth ing that the said her _ “Lie not, or it will be the worse this is the truth. As I was walk- through the market place an old black an met me and offered me a plece of if I would deliver a letter into the nand of the Prince Aziel. The gold temp i me. for I had need of it, and I consen but of who wrote the letter I know nothing, nor have I ever seen the woman pefor You have done wrong, girl,” said Elissa, “but I believe your tale. ow, g0."" When she had gone Elissa ‘stood for a ile thinking, and as she thought Metem w an exp on of fear gather on her w < she asked him, “is there anything ftrarge about this tree of which the seroil t _ “its size is strange,” he answered, “and it has five roots that stand above the ground, As he spoke she uttered a little ery “Ah!” sh “it is the tree [ I understand. swifuy, for my Swift! me y the wondering Me: minute and t w street so fast that ir heads laughed, t that a j husband wife. As Elissa fumbled at of the door of th rden Metem rtook her. “What means this hunt?” he gasped. they e decoyed the prince hei she answered, and atew we refore woman's I¢ * murdered also—a ed to himself as had run through the redoubled her speed, fitting slades like some white spirit, apidly that companion found 4it to keep her in view. At length » a large open space of ground, h played the level beams of the moon, striking upon the dense green - of an immense tree that grew there. ound this tree ‘a ran, glancing about so that for a few seconds Me- tem lost sight of her, for its bulk was be- tween them When he saw her again she Was speeding forward toward the figure of & man, who stood in the open, about ten paces from the outer boughs of the tree, to which she pointed as she ran, crying, “Beware!” Another tt ns moment and she had almost reached, him, and still pointing, began to gasp some broken words. Then, suddenly, in the bright mou: in, ight, Metem saw a shin- »bject flashed toward the pair from the arkness cf the tree. It would seem that Elissa saw it also; at least, she leaped from the d, her arm lifted above her head uxzh to catch the object, then as her touched the earth fell with a moan in. On Metem ran toward her, and as he went he perceived a shape which looked like that of a black dwarf slip from the sdow of the tree into some bushes be- md, w v he wus there > tind half lying on the sround, the Prince Aziel bending over her, and fixed through the palm of her right hand, which she held up piteously, a little ivory-pointed arrow “Draw it out from the wound,” “It avails not,” is poisoned With an exclamation Metem knelt beside her, and, not heeding her groans of pain, drew the dart through the pierced palm! ‘Then he tore a strip of linen from his robe, nd, knotting it around her wrist, he took @ broken stick that lay near and twisted the linen till it almost cut into her flesh. “Now, prince,” he said, “suck the wound for I have no breath for it. Fear not, lady, I know a salve that is an antidote for this poison, and presently I will be back with it. ‘Till then, if you would live, do not suffer that bandage to be loosed, however much it pains you,” and he departed swiftly. Aziel put his lips to the hurt to draw the poison from it. “Nay.” she s: away her hand, ray kill you.” It seems that it was meant for me,” he wered, “so I do but take my own.” resently, directing Elissa to ‘hold her hand above her head, he put his arms about her and carried her a hundred paces or more into the open glade. “Why do you move me?” she asked, her head resting on his shoulde: ‘Pecause whoever it was that shot the he panted. she answered, “the arrow . faintly, trying to pull ‘it is not fitting, the venom scroll | see, the | " and she sprang to the door, | THE EVENING é x STAR, SATURDAY, MARCH 12, 1898-24 PAGES, arrow may return to try his fortune a sec- ond time, and here in the open his dart cannot reach us.” Then he set her down upon the grass and stood looking at her. “Listen, Prince Aziel,” she said, after a while, “the venom with which these black men soak their weapons is yery strong, and unless Metem’s salve be good, it may chance that I shall die of it. Therefore, before I die I would say a word to you. What brought you to this place tonight? “A letter from yourself, lady. know it.” she said, “but I did not write that letter; it was a snare, set, as I think, by the King Ithobal, who would do you to death in this way or in that. A messenger of his bribed my waiting maid to deliver it. and afterward I learned the tale from Metem. Then, guessing all, I came hither to try to save you.”” “But how could you guess all, lady?” na strange fashion, prince,” and in a few words she told him her dream. is marvelous, indeed, that you “This SHE LEAPED AS THOUGH bending over them with a <ardonic smile, ard behind him the tall form of Issachar, who stood regarding them, his arms folded on his breast. “Holy Issachar,” went on Metem, with malice, “‘b2 pleased to hoid this lady’s hand, since it seems that the prince here can only tend her lips.”” “Nay,” answered the Levita, “what have I to do with this daughter of Baaltis? Cure her if you can, or if you cannot, let her die, for so. shall a stone of stumbling be re- moved from the feet of the foolisa,” and he glanced indignantly at Aziel. “Had it not been for tais same stone, at least the f2et of the foolish by now would have pointed skyward. ‘The gods send me suth a stone if ever a black dwarf draws @ poisoned arrow at me,” answered Metem, as he busied himself with his drugs. Th-n he a ‘Now, prince, do not answer him, but hold the lady's hand to the light.” Aziel obeyed, and having washed out the TO CATCH THE OBJECT. | should be warned of my danger by v1 sons,” he said, wonderingly and half doubt- ingly. “So marvelous, prince, that you do not believe me,” E swered. “I know well what 'y You think that a woman to whom th!s day you spoke such | Words as women cannot well forgive, being ther em can prove it to “Lady, I believe you,” he said, “without needing the testimony of Metem. But now | the story grows still more strange, for if | you had done me no wrong, how comes it | that to preserve me from harm you set | your tender flesh betwee him who had reviled you.’ }_ “It_was by chance,” she answered, faint- ly. “I iearned the truth and ran to warn you. Then I saw the arrow fly toward your heart ané strove to grasp it and it pierced me It was by chance, by such a chance as made me dream your danger,” and she fainted. CHAPTER Vin. Aulel Plights His Troth. At first Aziel feared that the poison had done its work and that Elissa was dead, till, placing his hand upon her heart he felt it beating faintly and knew that she did but swoon. To leave her to sek water or assistance was impossible, since he dared not loose his hold of the bandage | about her wrist, so he knelt at her side awaiting the return of M-tem. How beautiful her pale face seemed there in the moonlight, set in its frame of dusky hair! And how strange was this lale of hers, of a dream that she had dreamed, a dream which to save his own had led her to offer her life to the murderer's urrow. Many would not believe it; but he felt that it was true; he felt that even if she wisked it she c2uld not ile to him, for, as he had known first they met, their souls Were naked to each other. Yes, havirg thus been warned of his anger, she had off-red her life for him, for him who that norning had called het, unjustly, as Me- tem said, “a girl of th groves and a mur- | deress.”"" How came it that she had done this, unless, indeed, she loved him us—he loved her? He could no longer palter with himself; it wes the truth. Last night, when Issachar accused him, he had felt this, although then he would not admit it ajtogether, and now tonight he knew that Lis fate had found him. They would say that, after the common fashion of f he had been conquered by a lovely fac and form and a brave de=1 of devotion Htut it was not so. Something beyond the flesh and its works and attribuics drew him toward this woman, sometaing he could neithe: understand ‘nor define, un- less, indeed, the vision of Issachar d:fined it, but of whieh he had been conscious since first he set his eyes upon her face. It was possible, it was even probuble, that before another hour had gone by she would have passed beyond iis reach into the deeps of death, whithe> for a while h2 could not follow Yet he knew that th+ knowledge that she never could be nis would not affect the lov> of her that turn- ed in him, for his desire toward her was not the desire of the earth. He bent down over her, gazing into her pale face tll bis lips almost touched h2r cwn, and his breath beating on her seemed to give her life again. She opened her eyes and gazed at him awhile, deeply, and with meaning, even as he gazed at her. He spoke no word, for his lips seemed to be smitten with silence, but his heart safd, “I love you; I lov> you,” and her heart heard it, for she answered with her e “Bethink you who and what I am.” t matters not, for we are one,” he re- piled.” i “Bethink you,” sho said again, “that soon I may be dead’ and lost to you.” “It cannot be, for we are one,” he re- phed. “One we have been in the past, one we are today, and one we shall be through all the length st Ife and death.” “Prince,” she said again, “once more, and for the last time, I say, bethink you well, for it comes upoi me that your words are true, and that if I take that which to- night you offer, it will be forever and for ay ‘Forever and aye let it be,” he said, leaning toward her. “Forever and for aye let it be,” she re- peated, holding up her lips to iis. And thus they plighted their strange troth. . “Lady,” said a voice in their ears, the voice of Metem, “I’ pray you, let me at- tend to your hand, for there is no time to lose.” Aziel looked up to see the Phosnician ° the arrow and since revengeful, laid a plot to murder you, and | wound with water, Metem rubbed ointment into it which burned Elissa so sorely that she groaned aloud. “Be patient beneath the pain, lady," said, “for if it has not already passed into your blood, this salve wiil eat away poison of the arrow.” Thea, half leading and half carrying her, they brought her back to the palace, whe: Metem gave her over into the care of her father, telling him as much of the story as he thought wise and cautioning him to keep silent concerning it. At the door of the palace Issachar spoke to Aziel. “Did I dream, prince,” he said, “or did my cars indeed hear you tell that idols tress that you loved her forever, and did my eyes see you kiss her on the lips?” “It seems that you saw and heard thes things, Issachar,” said Aziel, setting his face sternly. “Now hear this further, and then I pray you give me peace on this mat- ter of the Lady Elissa. If in any way it is possible I shall make her my wife, and if it be not possible, then for so long as I live at least I will look upon no other wo- man.” Then that is good news, prince, to me, who am charged with your welfare, for be sure that. if in any way I can prevent yor you shall never mix your blood with that of this heathen sorceress.” “Issachar,” the prince replied, “I have berne much from you because I know well that you love me, and have stood to me in the place of a father. But now, in my turn, I warn you, seek not to work harm to the Lady Elissa, for in striking her yo rike me, and such blows may bring my vengeance after them.” Vengeance,” mocked the Levite. “T fear but one vengeance, that of Him on hig’ nor do T listen to the whisperings of love when duty points the path. Rather would I see you dead, Prince Aziel, than lure down to hell by the wiles of yonder witch. Then before Aziel could answer he turned and left him. As Issachar went to his chamber, full of bitterness and indignation, he passed the door of Elissa’s apartments and came face to face with Metem issuing from them. “Will the woman live?" he asked of him. “Be comforted, worthy Issachar, I think so: that is, if the bandage does not slip. 1 go to tell the prince. “Gladly would I give a hundred golden shekels to him who brought me tidings that it had slipped, and the woman with it, Metem Prostrated Himself. down to the arms of her father, Beelze- bub,” broke in the Levite, passionately. “Pretty words for a holy man,” said Metem, feigning amazement. “Well, Is- sachar, I will do most things for good money, but to shift that bandage would be but murder, and this I cannot do even for the gold and to win your favor. “Fool,” answered Issachar, ‘did I ask you to do murder? I do not fight with such Weapons; let the woman live or die as it is decreed. Ney, enter my chamber, for 1 would speak with you, who are a cunning man versed in the craft of courts. Listen new: I love this Prince Aziel, for I have reared him from his childhood, and he has been a son to me who have none. More, T am sent hither to this hateful land ‘to watch him and hold him from all harm, and for all that chances to him I must ac- count. And now, what has chanced? This woman, Elissa, by her witcheries——" ~ “Softly, Issachar; what witcheries does she need beyond those lips and form and eyes?” “By her witcheries, I tell you, she has ersnared him.jso fipt now he swears that | he will wed hbp.”. “What of it, Issachar? He might travel far to find a lovelier woman.” “What of it, do you ask, remembering who he is? What of it when you know his faith, and thaf(this‘fair idolafer will sap it and caus> him to cast away hs soul? What of it, when wigh your dwn ears you heard him swear to’ love her through all the deeps of life and géath?’ Mar, are you Ta 3 “No, but some ht say that you are, hely father, who t that I also am of this religion that ydu revile. But for gocd oF ill so th> matter stands, and now what is it that you will of me?’ I will that you should make it impossible that the Prince Aziel should take this wo- man to wife, not by murder, indeed, for ‘thou shalt nag ke! “saith the law, but by bringing it abdut that she should wed the King Ithobal, or if thai fail, in any other fashion that seems good to sau.” H ““Thou shalt not kill,’ saith your law; tell me, then, Issachar, does it say that thou shalt hand over a woman to a fate sh2 holds to be worse than leath? Doubt- less it is foolish of her, and we should not heed such woman's*folly, yet this one has a certain strength of will, and I question if all the eld2rs of the city will oring her liv- ing to the arms of Ithobai.”” “It is naught to me if she weds Ithobal, or weds him not,; save that i ‘lo noi love that heathen man, and sure:y she would bring ruin on him. “What I would have you do is to prevent her from marrying Azie th> way I leave to you. “And what should I be paid for this ser- vice, holy Issachar?” The Jew thought and answered: “A thou- sand gold shekeis.” “Two thousand gold shekels,”’ replied Me- tem reflectiveiy. “Nay, I am sur2 you said two thousand, Issachar. At least, I do not work for less, and it is a small sum enough seeing that to earn it I must take upon my- self the guilt of severing two iuving hearts. But I know well that you are right, and that this would b> an evil marriage for the Prince Azicl, and also for the Lady Elissa, who then day by day and year by year must bear the scourge of your reproaches, Issachar. Therefore I will do my best, not for the money, inde2d, bat Yeeaus> I see herein a righteous duty. And now here is parchment. Give me the lamp that I may prepare the bond.” “My word is my boud, Phoenician,” an- swered the Levite, haughtiiy. Metem looked at him. “‘Doubtless,” he said, “but you are old, and this is—a rouzh country, where accidenis chance at time! Still, the thing would read iil, and, as yo say, your word is your bond. Only -emem- ber, issachar, two thousand shekels, bear- ing interest’ at twenty-five shekels a month, And now you are weary, holy Issa- char, with plotting for the welfare of others, and so am I. Farewell, and good dreams to you.” ‘The Levite watched him go, muttering to himself: “Alas, that I should have fallen to such traffic with a knave, but it is for your sake and for your soul's sak», O, Aziel, my son. May God grant that fate be not too strong for me and you.” For two days from this night Elissa lay almost senseless, and by many it wa: thought that she would dic. But whan M n saw her on the morning after she had n wounded, and noted that her arm was be but little swollen and had not turned bla he announced that she would whatever the doctors of the city might de- clare, whereon Sakon, ner father, and Aziel blessed him, ‘but Issachar raid naught. It was as the Phoenician was walking through th> market place the next morn- ing that an aged black woman, whom he did not know, accosted him, saying that she had a message for his ear from the King Ithobal, who was camped without the city, and who desired to see the merchan- dise that he had prougnt with him from the coast of yr2.” Now, Metem had sold all his wares’at aigreat advantage. Still, as he would not neglect ths opportunity of trade, he purghased others from his fellow merchants and, loading two camels with them, set ont tor the cainp of Ithobal, rid- ing on a mule.) By midday he had r2ached it. The camp: was pitched near water in a pleasant groyg of trees. and on one of these not far fromthe tent of King Ithobal Metem noted that ther: huxg the body of a black dwarf. ,, “Behold the, fate, of him who shoots at the buck and hits the doe. Weil, I have al- ways said that murder is a dangerous game, since blood, caiis out for blood,” thought Metem, as he rod2 coward the tent. At its door «stood King Ithobal, looking very huge and sullen in the sunlight. Me- tem dismounted and prostrated himself ob- sequiously. 0 ¢ : “May the king jive. forever,” he said, “the great King, the.king to whom. ali other kings, of the earth-are as little to Baal, or the faint stars to the vainly liv gods sun.” “Rise and cease from filatteries,” said Ithobal, shortly. “E may be greater than the other kings, but at least you do not think it. “If the king says so, so let it be,” re- plied Metem, calmly. ‘A woman yonder in the market place told me that the king wished to trade for my merchandise, so I have brought the best of it, priceless goods that with much toil I have carried hither from Tyre,” and he pointed to the two camels laden with the inferior articles which he had purchased, and read the number and description of the goods from his tablets. “What value do you set upon the whole of them, merchant?” asked Ithobal. “To the traders of the country so much, but to you, oh, king, so mach only,” and he named a sum twice that which he had paid in the city. “So be it,” said Ithobal, indifferently. “I do not haggle over wares, though your price is large. Presently my treasurer shall weigh you out the gold.” There was a moment's pause, and then Metem said: The trees in this camp of yours bear evil fruit, oh, king. If 1 might ask, why does that little black monkey hang yonder?” “Because he tried to do murder with his poisoned arrows,” answered Ithobal, sul- lenly. “And failed? Well, it must comfort you to think that if he did fail he was of the number of your servants. It is strange, now, that some knave unknown attempted murder last night in the palace gardens, also with poisoned arrows. I attempt ed, but as yet I cannot be sure that he did ed.” * exclaimed he stopped. No, king, Prince Aziel was not hit. ‘The Lady Elissa took the arrow through her hand, and lies between life and death. I am doctoring her, and had it not been for my skill she would now be stiff and black— as the rogue who shot the arrow.” “Save her,” said Ithobal, hoarsely, “and I will pay you a doctor's fee of a hundred ounces of pure gold. Oh, had I but known, the clumsy fool had not died so easily.” Metem took out his tablets and made a note of the amount. “Take comfort, king,” he said. “I think that I shall earn the fee. But, to speak truth, this matter looks somewhat ugly, and your name is mentioned in it. Also it is said that your cousin, the great man whom the Prince Aziel slew, was charged to abduct a certain lady by your order.” “Then false tales are told in Zimboe, and not for the first time,” said Ithobal, coldly. “Listen, merchant, I have a question to ask you. Will the Prince Aziel meet me in single combat; with whatever weapons he may choose?” : “Doubtless, 4nd sfay you as he slew your cousin, for he is fine swordsman, and your strength would not avail against him. But your question is already an- swered, for though the prince would be glad enough to fight you, Sakon will have none of it. Hl&ve you nothing else to ask me, king?” ; 1 Ithobal nodded and said: “Listen, merchant, I know your repute of old—that you l0Ve money and will do much to gain‘it, and that you are craftier than any hillstde fox. Now, if you can do my will you éan Have more wealth than ever you won'in your life before “The offer sounds good in a poor man’s ears, kin, byt itdepends upon what is your will. Bs Ithobal went'to the door of the tent and commanded the séftries who stood with- out to suffer rfone to disturb him or draw near. Then hé ret¥rned and said: “{ will tell you, but beware how you be- tray my counsels’in this or in any other matter. You know how things are between me and the Lady. Elissa and her father Sakon, and the city which he governs; un- less within eight days she is given to me in marriage I have sworn that I will make war upon Zimboe. Ay, and I will make it, for already che great tribes are gathering to my banners in ten armies, each of thein 10,000 strong. Once let them march beneath yonder walls and before they leave it Zim- boe’s city of gold shall be nothing but a heap of ruins‘and a habitation of the dead. Such shall be my vengeance; but I seek love more than vengeance, for what will it avafi me to butcher all that people of traders is— as well may chance in the accidents of war-- I lose her whom J desire, beauty shall be my crown of crowns, and whose mind shall"make me great indeed? There- fore, it may be, I would -win her without war; let the war come afterward, as come it must, for the time is ripe. And though she turned from me, this I should have Ithobal, ‘“‘was——” dore, had it not been for yonder Prince Aziel, whom she met im a wild fashion and strightway learned to love. Now the thing is more difficult. Nay, while the Prince Aziei can take her to wife, it is well nigh imposaible, sinc2 no threats of war or ruin can turn a woman's heari from him she seeks to him she flies. Thérefore I ask you—' “Your pardon, king,” Metem broke in, “but I would save you perchance from saying words that I do not wish to listen to, and that you may afterward regret having spoken. If you were about to require of me that I should cause or be privy to the death cf the Prince Aziel, you would require it in vain; yes, if you would pay me gold in mountains and gems in camel loads. With murder I will have naught to do; more- over, the prince, your rival, is my friend, and I will not harm him. Further, I may tell you that after last night none will be able to come near him to hurt a hair of his head, seeing that through daylight and through darkness he is guarded by two men!" “And has a woman's body to set before him as a shield,” said Ithobal bitterly. “But you speak too fast; I was not about to ask you to kill this man, or even to procure his ¢cath, but rather that you should so con- trive that he cannot wed Eiissa. How you contrive it I care nothing so that she is not harmed. You may kidnap him, or stir up the city against him, as one who would be the source of war, and cause him to be dis- patched back to the great sea, or bribe tne priests of El to hide him away, or what you will, if only you separate him from this woman forever. Say, merchant, are you willing to undertake the task, or must my good gold go elsewhere.” . Metem pondered awhile and answered: “TI think that I will undertake it, king: that is, if we can come to terms, though whether I shall succeed is another matter. I will undertal it, not only because I seek to enrich myself, but because 1 and others who love him think that it would be a very evil thing that this Prince Aziel, whose blood is the most royal in the whole world, without the consent of the great King of Israel, his grandfather, should wed the daughter of a Phoenician officer, however beautiful and loving she muy be. Also I love yonder city, and would not see it plunged in a bloody war and perchance de- stroyed because a certain man would call a certain girl his sweetheart. And now, if I suece2d in this, what will you give me?” Ithobal named a great sum. “King,” replied Metem, “you must double it, for that amount you speak of I sball be forced to spend in bribes. More, you must give me the gold now, before I leave your camp, or I will do nothing.” “That you may steal it—and do nothing,” laughed Ithobal angrily. “As you will, king. Such are my terms; if they do not please you, weil, let me go. But if you accept them, I will sign a bond under which if within eight days I do not make it impossible for the Prince Aziel to marry the Lady Elissa, you may reclaim so much of the gold as I do not prove to you to have been spent upon your service, and no bond of Metem, the Phoenician, was ever yet dishonored. Another thing, war seon may break out, or I may be forced to fly; therefore, | demand of you a pas ed with your seal that enable me to ride with twenty men and all my goods and treasure, even through the midst of your armies, and you shall swear the great oath to me that notice of this pass shall be given to all your genera! nd that it shail be respected to the letter. Do you consent to these terms? “T consent,” said the king presently. That evening Metem returned to the city of Zimboe, but those who -led his two camels little guessed that now they were laden, not with merchandise,but with treas- ure, (To be continued.) MILLAIS AS A STUDENT. Was He an Apt Youth. A “Fellow Student” of Millais’ contrib- utes some personal reminiscences of that artist to the London Daily New: Referring to student days when Millais was fifteen or sixteen years of age, this writer says He and another youth named Rowan were both remarkable for their skill in drawing and diligent application to their studies; both were in the antique school, and their fellow students were strongly impressed with a conscious assurance of their genius, and it was felt that they would surely rank among the winners of the splendid prizes and popularity that be- ceme the inheritance of great artists. As far as I could see there was no envious feeling in the school, but an eager sym- pathy with them in their work. “Johnnie Milla: as he was then called, the fair- haired, keen-eyed, fresh, bright, clean-look- ing boy, was the favorite, but in ability it Was difficult to decide that either could ciaim superiority. Rowan, who was a trifle older than Millais, took his seat op- posite the latter on the horseshoe-shaped rails and benches provided for the stu- dents. While thus facing each other, Mil- lais one day took up a piece of gray paper, and made a sketch of his rival; it w dzshed off in the brief space of a few min- utes, and it was an admirable likeness. It was passed from hand to hand among the (some of them) wondering studeats, and then returned to Millais, who looked at it for a few moments, smiled and care- lessly threw it on the flocr, where it was eagerly pounced upon and promptly se- cured by one of his neighbors. It may be that the sketch is treasured up in some old portfolio yet; it would be interesting if its existence could be ascertained. That he could thus dash off an excellent likeness with such smart precision and exactitude, on the spur of the moment, shows the truth of the observation that he was “a bern portrait painter. Millais, as I have said, had an untiring delight in his work. I told him on one oc- casion that with his command over and enjoyment of his art he must surely be one of the happiest men in the world. “Yes,” he replied, “it is a delightful occu- pation. I don’t know of any other so pleasurable, but hang it, it isn’t all pleas- ure. I am constanuly worried by letters from strangers making all sorts of unrea- sonable requests, and I almost dread the scund of the postman’s knock.” He was once talking to me of the students of our day in the academy, and said he had sought to find out what become of those who seemed to have faiied, and he found that many of them had broken down from ill health. “A man should be as strong a horse to be an artist, and thank God. said, am as strong a hors Talking of portraits, he said, “It is as easy to me ncw to paint a portrait as to play a game of whist.” At the time I am mostly speaking of Mil- lais was in splendid’ health, and was brim- ming over with good mature and high spirits, his eye sparkled with keen vitality and sensibility of expression; his generous ardor and exuberant joyousness of manner made him a delfghtful companion, and rone who had seen him could easily forget his fine head and noble presence. Few artists, I think, were ever so beloved as he by their contemporaries. +/+ ___ Tommy Atkins and His Grog. From the London Critic. “Drink and the devil had done for the rest,’ says the snatch of an old sea song, and certainly both these evil influences, especially the former. do their worst for poor Tommy Atkirs. Wholesome liquor in proper quantities is not amiss; but the vile concoctions, raw and fiery. supplied to our troops—often on foreign stations, where the climat> is an admirable ally—tend to ser- fously impair the stamina of the soldier. Jersey is, at present, a great sinner in this respect, for I understand the regiment stationed at St. Heliers has unrivaled facil- itizs to obtain what is known locally as “white spirit’—an abominable distillation from potatoes. A quart bottle can be had for one shilling. The local authorities are apparently do- ing nothing to effectively restrain the sale of this poison, and as the liquor is acces- sible in tha town, the military authorities can only be wise after the event and pun- ish Tommy for being drunk and disorderly. ‘True, the barrack cafiteen can be improved in quality and price, but in Jersey, as things are at present, I am inclined to agree with Robbie Burns, “The deil’s awa’ wi’ the exciseman.” The sooner the latter comes back and taxes potato spirit out of the market the better. After the Battle. and Popular From Life. He—“Then I go—and forever.” i She—“V well! But don’t call tomor- row evening, for I shan’t be in.” + e+____ wise Ee ee ere ae oe venge upon the rr.” ‘Becond Poet—How?" First Poet (in a hoarse whisper)—“T've sent him a poem, and the gum on the return envelope.’ CARNIVAL AT CADIZ! The Season When Mirth and Fri- volity Reign Supreme. UNLIMITED FUN IN THE OPEN AIR Yet With all the Merrymaking There is no Drunkenness. SCENES AT THE BIG BALL Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. MADRID, February 22, 1898. F ALL THE CITIES which remain to keep it up, Cadiz is the place to see the carnival. At Rome the carnival is a shadow, growing fainter each year. One day it will re- vive again for bus- iness purposes, as it has done in Paris. Of the other Italian cities some are too poor, and others are becoming practical, to keep up the merry mummery; and throughout all Eu- rope the modern spirit makes against the old-time masked feasts that ushered in the Lenten season. Where people do not ob- serve the fast they will not get up much excitement over what precedes it. For all the old-time ways and to have a taste of old-time life the traveler should pack his trunk for Spain. Seville is glori- ous. The glowing capital of Andalusia, flaked with white summer dust as the cheeks of her beauties are flaked with vio- let powder, suggests the clack-clack of cas- tanets, whose music is not patd for on a stage, but the free work of amiable dam- sels and a whole existence that seems at least unmercenary. But Seville is a large city, and foreigners are spoiling it. Cadiz is a smaller place, and is absolutely dead to all the world. Its flavor is its own. Cadiz has the worst hotels irnaginable. Here the French cuisine is modified by the sturdy appetite of the ancient Visigoth, where there is none to molest it and make it asl ned. The Spanish word for cooking isar—sounds strangely like “dis- guising” it; and garlic and oil will go far toward disguising anything. But this strange cookery in Itself is a guarantee that one is in a spot untroubled by influences from outside; and it all goes well with the musty streets, with the mold- ering architecture and the festivities of half a century ago, where the disguises of the merrymakers are even more curious than the disguises of the table. The Drendfal Maskers, The carnival is the festivity which ushers in Lent. The idea is to be gay and abandon one’s self to folly, because the slate is soon to be rubbed out. Accordingly, the Span- iards seem to change their natures, Or- dinarily the oriental habit of protecting women by seciuding them prevails. Ac- cordingly, ladies iake the greatest liberties at carnival. Ordinarily a niard will re- sent a word as he would a plow. Accord- ingly, he bear any kind of chaff the: {zw deys of the yeac. In trah, the whole proce S pianned to tempt human ure to the utinost of all is weakest too Of the actual events there is, first, the -air masking, then the throwing of chopped paper, tae squirting of all the pretty women with the diluted cologne wa- ter and the ircest kind of comp:iments to be paid to seroritas sest:1 with their mothers on hired chairs ations the conse- crated street. Last of all ther2 are the late masked balls and suppe ftzrward, which should net, but accual:y do, last long into the mcrning. Cadiz has ore long street—they call it the broad street, but it is really narrow—and the gas pipes on this street are so arrang ed that crches of lights can be thrown across it, about five to the bluck, through- out its whole extent. Here English and American tourists find those “dreadful maskers” who insist on shaking hands with their wives. Here are little cafe: soda water booths turned for the day into sales roums of ccnfetti, chopped paper, perfumed water, whiskbrooms and tickling machines made out of feathers. Each has a use. cigar shops and Weapons of Torment. The cut paper is cut very small, indeed, like tiny gunwads of all colors. A million or more of them are contained in one long, light paper cartridge or cornucopia. Thrown with some force they burst, scattering va- riegated showers on the heads of those they strike; or, to be more economical and less rough, a handful at a time is sprin- kled over the hair or trickled down the back of any fair one who seems deserving of the compliment. Instead of resenting this, the ladies are well pleased, and they will fight you, hand- ful for handful, until mouth, eyes, ears and every corner of your respective beings is drifted full of spangles, gold and silver, white, green, ced, blue, pink and lemon colored. Only you must not touch the ladies with your hands. The perfumed water comes in long tubes, like the oil paints seen in artists’ studios or the “glycerine and roses” found in drug stores, Unsrew the nozzle, press the tube and the perfumed water does the rest. It is only a tiny spray which strikes the beauty on her cheek or in her ear or trickles down her spine, according as your luck or taste decrees; and its fragrance in this hot land is grateful to a people given over completely to powder, paint and per- fumes. The “ticklers” are on long sticks, to be used at a distance. The whiskbrooms are for use when you officiously brush the spangles from some lady who is absolutely stunning while she stands with body thrown into that curved, disjointed atti- tude which Spanish women know so well how to assume, elbows out, wrists at waist, smile or lip and a sly defiance in the half-closed eye. Only, you must not touch the lady with your hands. Who the Girls Are. Who are these girls, so gracious, gay and romantically easy-going, and how is it you have never managed to see them be- fore? They are the whole female popula- tion of Cadiz, and picked flowers from every village ten miles around. Servant maids and daughters of nobles mingle with Peasant girls and the wives and daughters of bull fighters, shopkeepers’ daughters, shopkeepers’ wives—everybody'’s wife an everybody's daughter—yes, and everybody's mother, too. x The whole special fabric is spread out on this one street, so bright, so long, so»nar- row and so romantic in its architecture. Three rows of chairs fill up the entire side- walk on each side of the street. On these the people of distinction sit, re- ceive and throw confetti, flowers and per- fumed water. On every balcony and at every window there are young ladies lean- ing out, These are the highest class of ali, in theiy own apartments or apartments rented for the night. It is a favorite diversion of these young ladies, day and night, but particularly in the afternoon, 7 the street is not so full, to let di irom a balcony an enor- mous hand Of canvas or other material, stuffed with straw. He whom it bumps on the head will look up in vain to catch a ccmpany is not s select, with a sele Years differ, or, rather, It ts too m of the wrong kind nd some seasons have mask- ed balls well patronized by the good class of people, bit, ordinarily, they are given over to the second-class youth of the city and environs and all the dem!-monde. Here you will see the objectionable Ha- vaners danced; here gentiemen of social position sit in the boxes only, and chat as they drink the Manzantila, but will not walk shout the floor. In the boxes you will See some very beautiful young ladies also, and, despite their elegance and expensive dressing, you know they are not in society But while they grace the piace and at- tract a deal of notice, they are as far away as if they were locked in burglar-proof safes. On the floor you believe that the senoritas are pretty, but you cannot tell, because they are all in mask. Further y. they are all with their own partners. The atmosphere is different from the out- side street and the change felt by the tour- ist is from the license of the carnival to the everyday manner of the Spanish. Span Drinking. As the carnival night is almost ove: word about these wines may be of interest In Spain the smallest children drink wine as they wish it—that is, they help them- selves. More than this, babies are given sugared brandy and water “to make them strong.” Certainly the Spanish are phy ically strong—it is hard to find a tore mus- cular and healthy set of people, and few Americans would have the breath to dance their country dances. The ordinary wines have a high percent- age of alcohol, and are not at all like the Weak French and German table wines. hey are so cheap that they are given free at hotel tables; and every peasant has his bread and cheese and wine. Yet there is absolutely no drunkenness in Spain. You may travel from one end of the pen- insula to the other without encountering a native case of “booze.” Is it a racial virtue only? Not at all, for tt is almost as true in France and Germany, particularly in the districts of the vine. In these countries we hear nething of temperance crusades. be- cause the fact of temperance exists. There must be some connection, therefore, be- tween the universal use of wine and good behavior. All this may have but a remote connec- tion with the carnival at Cadiz or the loud ball. Yet if you were there, sitting in a box at 12 o'clock at night, when the floor is getting too furfous in ite fun for foreign- ers and the morning at your heels, you, too, would think about your native land. and while exulting in its freedom from the shiftlessness and thriftlessness of Spain, would wish for it the honorable te of Spaniards. STERLING H ———__+ + INDIANS AS CATTLE RAISERS. Though ery Advantage. From the Kansas City Star. “If there ever was any hope for the In- dian in an agricultural way {t surely was in the direction of raising cattle," remarked an old government contractor yesterday to a reporter for the Star. “It's a good thing for us, though,” chimed in the cattle buyer, who was an old-time friend of the contractor, “that the Indians didn’t develop that way.” “Correct you at retorted the contrac- tor, “but it is curious after all. The In- dians had a better chance than any white man on earth to go into the cattle business. They had big ran guarded by govern- ment troops. Uncle Sam was buying stock for them all the time and by this time they should have been the ‘bulllonaires’ of the country. But it is not so; in fact there ts not a tribe in the United States that has cattle enough for its own needs.” “Yes,” said the buyer, “they had big herds of cow ponies; they are good plains- men; herding cattle is not hard work, and there are always plenty of boys about an Indian camp to take care of it without troubling the bucks or squaws. The first work of barbarous man was the tending of herds and fiocks, and it would seem this would be the first move of the Indians to- ward civilization, but they skip it some- how.” “Look at the Crow beef herd up in Mon- tana,” said the contractor. The finest, best-guarded and watered range in the country, and yet the herd-has been growing smaller and smaller ail the time, notwith- nding the additions made every year by government Then look at the five the civilized tribes in the territory. They have fine grazing privileges, but lose the benefit of them by leases and then lose the money through the dishonesty of those who make the leases. “On the Kiowa and Commanche reserva- tions the government allows the Indians to sell the grass and each Indian gets about money. He spends this in nd that is the end of it. Suppose the government took this grass money for a year or so and bought cattle. The result would be that the Indians would sell their grass in the shape of beef, which is far more profitable. It is the same way everywhere you go. The government has assisted the Indian to dispose of his birthright until the Indian does not recognize it when he s it in the road. The Indians are 1 failures as cattle met «ee SALA’S LAST ARTICLE. How He Wrote Hi Whee! Mrs. Sala in the Windsor Magazine. There are sages learned in things vehicu- lar who maintain that the machine which we call a “coach” was, in the origin, only a bedchamber on wheels, inasmuch that the Emperor Charles V., being woefully troubled with the gout, was accustomed to travel in a Hungarian gutsche, a long, low chariot in which he could Me at full length and sleep off the pangs engendered by his inordinate repasts of brawn, Lyons sausages, venison pasties and pickled part- ridges, washed down by potations as ex- cessive of burgundy, Rhine wine and Flem- ish beer. Gutsche is said to be an obsolete Magyar word for a bed or sofa, but the more modern dict akers pertiy tell us that the word is deriyed from the Hungarian kocs, from Kocs, the name of a place in Hungary where the vehicle was invented, to which pert assertion I say “Rickles!” Some day we may be told that Pullman cars are so called because, late in the nineteenth century, they were built at a place called Pullman city— (Here the last article of Mr. Sala ends abruptly). “Shall I take it down for you?” I asked, when he started to write the article you have just read. “No,” was the cheerful reply that spring afternoon in 1895. “I really feel so well that I'd like to write it myself while you go out and enjoy your- self, dear, ard bring me in all the news.’ Needless to say, having the anguish of knowing that the unwonted energy wi but the flickering of the candle, I dix n't go out and enjoy myself, although to please, him I pretenced that I had done so, and was even so deceitful as to take him up later a beautiful malmaison carnation— his favorite flower—for his button hole that evening, to keep up the delusion of my jaunt in search of enjoyment. As I re- entered his study that afternoon he gave me over the three slips of closely written MS., on flimsy foreign notepaper—and said, “Take them, dearest. I am so tired, I don’t think I shall ever write another mag. azine article. Put the sheets in your dis- patch box, and finish them for me. When I am dead you will perhaps want bread, and then you can sell ‘Bedrooms on Wheels. Although for two years previously I had “finished” many dozen articles for him when his strength failed him, I never found heart to finish this last little article, and I never shall. I put the slips away in my dispatch box as he bade me. Surely enough it was just as he so sadly prophe- sied, for often since cruel death came be- tween us I have wanted for the common necessaries of life during many weeks and months of weariress and ill health. Those terrible hours, however, are passed now, Frank James is Near Death. St. Louis Dispatch im Chicago Times-Herald. Frank James, the noted ex-bandit, is