Evening Star Newspaper, May 28, 1898, Page 18

THE EVENING STAR, “SATURDAY, MAY 28, 1898-24 PAGES. CHAPTER X. The Prophecy. Rue @°¥pres was a surging turmoil. Swarms of eager, anxious people thronged the street and the ramparts, where an ir- | rege oud of white smoke hung, half concealing the “Prophet.” A company of ters were driving the crowd back | walk, a mounted gendarme | and wheeled his horse right white-gloved hand raised, the The tine to the shout and i orders grenade on his baldrick glittering like a live coal. From everywhere came a mur- mur, growing deeper, more per- | sistent. “The jans! The Prussians! The Prussians!” until the thonotonous hant swept from the Porte Rouge to the Prine, racks like the thrill of a ep strung, trembling, vibrat- Uhlans wer ing in th ¥. “The signaled near I'Hay,” cried a boy, raising himself on the point of wooden shoes to cateh a glimpse of the Prophet. “Can one see the Prussians out there?” oman, leoking up anxiously at | aned from the window. * nothing, madame,” replied Hilde, » there,” in: da man in a blue “fhe Prussians are in Meudon madame.” aw them?” asked a dozen voices 1 know? Everybody says over by that spire—one could h a glass," said an old man who imme tention. jiately became the center of at- | demanded the man in the “Can you see them? Are there many asked another. The Uhlans! The Uhlans!” shouted the crowd Hilde, leaning from the shattered window, looked down at surging thr: below, | and then out across the ley of the | Rievre, rkling with dimmed brilliancy | under its veil of haze. She saw nothing | pt patches of woods, white spires and | flecked w sun- calmly _besic eno v E below In the street an ¢ sold on cap rode slowly throu > crowd, ating: * there is nething to s. have not be led; t marines are ly practicing to get the } range | the man in | 1 laugh ran “Fichtre! Je me’en vais, alors,” said a young b er, tying his apron tighter: | “we'll i nty of time to see M. Bis- a, curious the barracks as the carno: and <s near t would fy Prophet ermit. Prussians were not ia crowd appared to ve good} vinted, for they were ba Bourk > palace of and saw 3 the bat- ehind Is : comes from our quarte Hareweed. “Do you see the smok re; ever the Seine vaile Paris, whi At their feet la fair as a jewel s led by the iimpit nec river. The late suntight ned on Gilded deme of the Invalides, ers of Notre Dame glimm Nearer, the majestic dome of t end the strange towers of tach3d themseives from the beyond the observ its n ue-like domes snowy gout t. looking across the peninsular where iancourt lay smothered in yer- dure, the six forts of the south away in a single renk to the Ri in the north the vast m: 2 y Iine—always myster: wrapped in gloomy ma- ud th» Montretout ed, but apparently | unfinis the terrassiers troops marching gun squads drilling | gla ermarching, rapets. At their fe so close | could have tossed a: pebble on- | the b palace of St mid its ancient forest, s Ss ani qua tron of « foot of lerrace of oificers, municipal magnates, ers, gendarmes and holiday strollers d through the palace grounds, staring up at the exquisitely gray facade with un- ns of curiosity and ap- | marble-terraced | ne of mounted returning tion of th: rrefour, bensath ipurs eimets jingling, breastpiates glittsring rrors > of th , 2 slim young fellow. spler need up at the two A turned his head to . laugkel and waved a Who's t i asked Bourke. emare, commanding at St. ."" said Herewood. “He's going to let me know when anything is up in that direc- et before the = to go, with ndid elty, had turned to} isk to @ taming | xttlemen as structures of op: hanim ane an the broke out r glimmered in zeni shadows fell on forest and | t pools, far through the avenues of rose above the | strapp! the wed him, entering the just as the cuirassiers rede court. In the twilight one of the | passing cavaliers pped. ling to re- wood in d wit an accent: “Tt is nd? Ma fol, you are pot amiable cely amiable. I am glad to see y n.” Harewood shook hands with him as the horse passed, saying: “Good evering, Gen. mare. I am-coming to see you at St. shall expect you,” said Gea. Beitemare, ning in his saddle. “Don't forget—Rue @ Athis—au revoir, mon cher,” and passed on with the cavalry tato the dusk, satuting them both with easy graca. ‘The two Americans pursued their way toward the river, saying little to cach other until they were stanling on the deck of a bateau mouche, speedins through ihe twi- light under the high uct of the Point éu Jour. Red and green lights on the fleet of river gunboats syarkled under the shadowy frches of the viaduct. On the eastern bas- tions an electric light sputtered blue and | bridge spanned the ri {blocking the street gentlemen if it is pos: | Belleville battal j Jack blinding, casting luminous shadows over quay and dock and long rews of polished siege guns lying on car trucks below the ramparts. Other boats passed them, clus- tered lights on bow and stern, rows of il- luminated windows and ports steining the dark waters with golden beams as they passed. The little waves danced along the wake. criss-crossed wit gre2n and crimson vtreaks, distorting the lantern reflections until the black waf@r surged under a pol- ished surface, shot to its deptn with jagged, trembling shafts of colored lighi. “That's the gunboat Farcy,” said Rourke, as a shadowy shape loomed up in mid stream. She's got x big gun aboard, but, to my thinking, th resol must raise the mischief with her plat» Already the dark, endles Louvre appeared on the | facade of the bridge after teons of gas lamps. surged up before th tered pinnacles, ligh It was the Cite. Their voy: its end. As they climbed the s quay below the Palais de Ju the south a ball of fire spe sky and burst, spraying vermillion stars. “What's that signai?’ muttered Rourke. The distant repo-t a cannon confirmed the answer that the news wer? shoui- ing along the bou rds exira! The Orleans railway blown up between Abicn and Athis! The Pi reached the forest of Senart! Harewood bought 1 paper and stood read- ing it under a gas jet, while on every side an increasiag tumult arose from the crowd- ed sidewalks as rocxt after rocket whirred up into the night and Ue dull thunder inut- 1 up into the the night with tered from the fo of the west. In the glare of the lignted shop windows black masses of people gathered, gesticulating, lingering in knots un- der the gas lamps, where some boulevard orator alternately real from a newspaper and harangued his neighbor: Hoarse voices with the sinister intonation of alerm bells dominated the deeper hum of che multitude—insistent voices, clamoring dis- aster. “Extra! Extra!’—every discordant <Ty rang out harsh and tense, vibrating with the malice of prophec “It's true," sald Harewood. soberly. “The Prussians have cut the Orieans rail- road near Athis. He handed the journal to Bourke, adding: “There'll be the devil to pay in the 8 tonight. I've a mind to stay here and dine at the Cafe Rouge. What do you say? lette not to expect us,” replied Come on. threugh — the Teat and traversed the Place St. Michel, whe a jam of omni- buses and ¢ plessly mixed, bl d the passage itery of artillery. In the black mass silhouettes of riders, tow- ering in their high sad “J and re- crossed the gaslit prids a horse's | head tossed, shary there t shape of a aon detached itself dowy chaos. pre: on up the hill of the St. and entered the brightly lighted of the Cafe Rouge, cuirassiers were hrough t Boulevard St. Ger- abers, casques and polished armor cri ned with mirrored reflee m the flaming torches borne by single cevalic A trumpeter rode by, a troeper carrying a guidon, staff in stirrup, followe ven, all alone, came a general, Somber face shadowe ed sash, and epanlett glittering with oll. Under his cocked hat his s looked out into the glare un- He saw neither torch nor sh Steel blades of swords—he, th: oracle of vagueness, the apostie of y—this Breton governor of Paris, Tre chu. jo he passed with his armored troop, a i ef ancient igeantry, a Br of zoned ¢: a#eu yed nd paradise, - bles: filmy veil was J of God for the innocent. adiron had trampled out in the darkness, by Harewood, entered » and found ts at a lable soldier of the National Guard 1 one of Franchetti’s scout: latter was taunting th jan with je indiseip! the gu: sman answered si i and sawed away at his steak, washing huge kfuls down with goblets of red 2 and your major, eh?” sneered the my friend, sin of the National sted a major? TI leave it to these two itlemen"’—here he turned and nodded at Four and Hareweod—“I leave it to the bie for a Nati a_ major unless ny of fantoches!” he yourself!” shouted the man, stung to fury by the taunt; “let me tell you that Major Flourens is major be- ard battalion to h: mp: ac “Fant He Spoke With Frightfal Impetuosity. cause he’s accepted the command of three ms. If you don't lik» it go up to the ‘Undertaker’s’ tonight and say so to Buckhurst—and see what hap- pers.” “Who is Buckhurst?" inquired the scout sarcastically. The guardsman swallowed a mouthful of bread, emptied his goblet, smacked his lips and said: “None of your business.” Bourke looked at Harewood. “Buckhurst!" he repeated under his breath. It wouldn't surprise me,” muttered Harewood, “if that ruffian is in Paris: the “Unde k. * is just the place for him. They ate in ‘silence for a while, preoc cupied with this bit of-rews, news whica they krew was well worth cabling to America. Forger, murderer and incendiary, Buckhurst had at last been caught during the draft riots in New York, and, after being clubbed into insensibility, had been locked in the Tombs prison to be Gealt with later. The next day the war- den reported him dying; the next day after he was gone, but not to hell. Where he had gene the authorities tried for a while to find out, until at last the fame of his explotts faded into legendry and nothing was left of his memory except an oc- casional line in a rewspaper and a faded photograph in the rogues” gallery. The seout began again to tease the Na- tional Guardsman, asking sneering ques- tions about Belleville and the battalions quartered there, until the guardsman jump- ed up in a rage, cursing impartially the whele Latin quarter. ‘If ycu think Belleville is so funny come up and see; come up and tell us how funny we are!” he. shovted. “Henri Rochefort will answer you—Major Flourens will re- ply to you—M. Buckhurst may have a word to say! What is the Latin quarter, any- way, bute gutter full of cocottes and stu- AnRITTEN FOR THE EVENING STAR. BY_ROBT W:CHAMBERS: dents and imbecile professors! Don't tell me! And just wait a bit. The dance is beginning, my friend, and the red flag is a better flag than Badinguet's tri-colored horse blanket!” The cafe was in en uproar by this time. The scout dashed a glass of red wine into the guardsman’s face, somebody in the rcom threw a chair at somebody else, howls and curses mingled with ine crash of crockery until somebody shrieked, “I'm stabbed!” and there was a rush for the door. Bourke found himself out on the side- welk, warding off the cuffs and kicks of several enthusiastic citizens, who kept shouting: ‘He's a Prussian spy! Kill him until the hazard of battle brought Hare- wood to his aid. Together they managed to back out of the crush in good order until darkness enabled them to prudently efface themselves in the Rue de Medecine. And it was well they did. for the cry of “Spy” in that period meant rough usage first and inquiry later—sometimes too late. DAZED, HE STR | | sheaths. what he was doing, he crushed opposition end won his point, and the Undertakers. fixed a night fer the mustering in of their battalion and“t reception to “Major” Flourens. All thi, of course, was contrary to law, military civil, there was no such title as in the National Guard, it. dared not antagonize moment. Harewood entered the remtly paid them the They slipped quietly ooden gallery, found a between two aisles, and the tumult below. A cco smoke hung over which gas jets burn- ated, spear-like flames. ts of the tribune, be- ped desks, sat three ?Flourens, young, flush- e eyes dilated and nos- with impatience: on r, all body and bandy of a lunatic deep set under a high, bajd, domelike forehead. In the middle Buckharst sat. Harewood and Bourke leaned forward, eyes fixed on this incomprehensible inter- rational criminal. He sat there, pale eyes set in a paler face, a man of forty, lithe of movement, well proportioned, dainty of hand and foot. There was a hardness about his smoothly shaven face, yet each feature was well nigh perfect—except his eyes. These were so pale in color that in the gas flare they looked almost pearly. The hall was packed with the Undertak- ers and their friends, sitting cheek by jow! around hundreds of little iron tables, sloppy with beer dregs and the blue-black lees of cheap wines. Everybody: was smoking. cheering, screeching, hammering beer mugs on the round iron tables.. Women waved wine glasses in the smoke-choked glare; soldiers of the National Guard bang- ed on the floor with bayonets and sword Red flags were draped around the hall, alternating with hideous decora- tions, mostly emblems of death and the un- When Bourke: hall, nobody aj slightest atten looked: down a; thick fog of t everything, thro ed with pale, atte High on the th bind the pulpi men; on the ri ed, handsome, ' trils fairly quivel the left sat legs, with the’ iD TO RISE. “Damnation!” si Harewood, furiously, up a tattered sleeve, “I’ve a mind my revolver next time, and I'll do it, diots! I'll show them who's a spy— yes, I will, Cecil!” “You'd better not,” regarding his own “There's no telling what your may do in this crisis. Jim, you heard what that rat-faced soldier said about Buckhurst? Of course we'll cable it—but— what would you think of arresting the fel- low and getting the government to hold him for extradition?” “Government? What government? Not this crazy aggregation in Paris? What's the use? They won't do it; they won't dare tcuch him if he’s hand in glove with the Belleville gang. Didn't you hear the sol- dicr couple his name with Rochefort’s and Flourens’? Probably he’s one of the shin- ing lights of their cutthroat club, the Un- dertakers!” Bourke looked up suddenly. “Jim, that’s what we'll do; we'll go to Belleville tonight and attend a seance of the Undertakers!” Harewood noaded urcertainly. “You remember { have a friend at court there, the Mouse,” he said, “and, as you siggested, it’s possible that he may at- tempt to cut our throats as an expression of good will. 5 Bourke hesitated. said Bourke, grimly, disheveled attire. Parisians He looked sharply at Harewood, undecided, a little curious to krow how his comrade wouid act. “Do you care to go?’ he asked, after a “You needn’t—on my account.” paves replied Hare- Yes, if you are going,” cod, pleasantly. we ate headin then,”’ said Bourke, won- dering whether Harewood had accepted the risk through reckiessness, @ reporter's In- stinct of rivalry, or an unwillingness to Jet him take the risk alone. CHAPTER XI. The Undertakers. The reign of terror inoculated Paris with a virus, the first symptom of which was an eruption of “clubs.” A hundred years later the city was again violently infected. The third empire poisoned Paris, and a fresh outbreak of “clubs” followed, aggravated by the declaration of war in July, 1870. Now that the German armies were closing in on the city, the irresponsible mania for organizing clubs increased to such an ex- tent that in certain quarters of Paris-every street had its club. And of all the clubs organizea to discuss politics or to combat political parties, the grimmest, the most sinister, the most thoroughly revolutionary, was the so-called “Undertakers’ Club” of Belleville. In the beginning this club had been ex- tremely radical, but perfectly sane. It flick- ered into life with the birth of the third empire, blazed like a comet during the fusillades of the boulevard and streets, and fiz ally went out like a greasy candle, leav- ing a doubtful stench in the-city. ‘The flame, however, was relighted’ when Na- poleon III declared war against his “good brother,” King Wilhelm of Prussia, and when that mild-natured and sentimental old monarch left his becabbaged estates to chastise his bad brother, Napoleon, the Un- dertakers stirred in their slumbers. ‘The resurrection of the Undertakers was accomplished through three circumstances, the Franco-Prussian war, the will of God and Jack Buckhurst. Where Buckhurst came from, how he came, why he came, no one knew, but in a week he had all Belleville aflame, clamoring for whatever he told it to clamor for. He walked into the Under- takers’ Gne evening, demanded an election, got it; dewarded the privilege of the tri- bune, got it; demanded a revision of the constitution, a ballot for new officers, a new watchwerd, a new policy, and got everything he demanded. Then, with ter- rible vindictiveness, he turned on the semi- sane minority, crushed it, and drove it from the quarter, and when denounced and accused by Carl Marx from his exile he defied the International, and was over- whelmingly elected president of the Under- takers. If the Undertakers had once been radi- al—evea revolutionary—now it was of the Reds” reddest. All the worst elements of Belleville entered into its cemposition, its walls rang with furious denunciations of all existing social order, its motto was “disorder, destruction, death, « If Buckhurst had not been the devil's own prophet, if he had not foreseen what was to be, if he had not known as surely as the sun rises that the Commune was coming, coming inexorably after the brief war cloud had blown clear of a humiliat- ‘ed nation, the Undertakers would never have lifted -a finger to equip a_ battalion for the defense of Paris. But Buckhurst saw further. He knew that every new marching battalion from Belleville meant for hini and his a veteran reserve in time of need. His need would come when the Commune came. So when two organized battalions of the National Guard’ elected Flourens their commandant, Buckhurst rosé in the tribune and called for volun- teers to form a third battalion. . knew. dertaker’s profession. In the midstof the uprear, the foul smoke, reeking atmos- phere and stench of stale beer, half a dozen well-fed reporters sat writing at a long table which stood directiy in front of the base of the tribune. Their sleek, rud faces, their well-groomed persons silk ha’ ivory-handle@d walking sticks, faz cigars tucked under waxed mustaches, pre- sented a picture at once incongruous ani reassuring. Oblivious to the crowd, the stench, the furious fulminations from mil- itant anarchists, denouncing everything. including the Maker of everything, these reporters scribbled away at their pads, sharpened pencils or flicked the ashes from good cigars under the very noses—in the very faces—of the most irresponsible crowd o? ruffians that ever gathered to encourage each other's criminal instincts. Mortier be gan to speak, rising on his erooked legs his long throat swathed in a red handker- chief. Under the grotesque dome of his bald forehead his villainous face contracted till the scrubby beard bristled. When he opened the black cavern of his mouth a single tooth broke the monotony of his grinning gums. He spoke for a long time, his piercing voice splitting the choked atmosphere till the crowd howled again and the dreadful tumult broke back from the echoing raft- ers into a very hell of sound. Plourens followed, speaking first earnest- ly, then with frightful impetuosity. Ha leaped to the platform before his desk and stretched out his arm. Every movement set the gaslight glittering and shimmering over the gilded arabesques on his uniform. The crowd roared, mad with exultation. Then Buckhurst rose. At the first quiet word a hush fell over the hall. His voice was placid, passionless, ccol and grateful as summer showers. “Citizens,” he said, “you have organized your battalion, you have added your voices to the voices of the other two battalions; 2 legion has been formed. Major Flourens is your leader. “The government says that he is not. We differ from the government—we expect to differ more seriously still—when the time comes. At present we can afford to waic. But a time is very near when orders that come from the Palais Bourbon will be countermanded by orders issued from the Hotel de Ville. The Undertakers need .a larger hall—the Hotel de Ville is not too large.” Mhe frantic cheering checked him for a moment. Tren he resumed: “For a time it is best that we go to the ramparts, that we fight the Prussians un- der the tri-color. This is policy—for the moment. But—policies change, so do flags, so does what is now called patriotism. “Citizen Mortier has reminded you that universal broth>tLood is rot compatible with patriotism, that the red flag of revolt is the universal Lanner of human brother- hood, that there is nobler game for your rifle bullets than the hearts of battle- driven peasents, who, although Prussians, are your broth»rs and your comrades in arms against the wealth of all the world. It is well to bear this in mind—and wait. “And now, as you have elected Major tourens chief of the new legion, and as you have elected me commandant of your battalion, I ask you for the privilege of naming to you two of my fellow country- men for election as captains in the 3d Bat- talion.” z “Name them! Name them! crowd. tid Bourke leaned over the balcony, clutch- ing Harewood's arm. “By heaven!” he Whispered, “do you see who he’s going to flame?” Harewood, mute with gstonishment, star- ed down at the platform where two men had mounted from the crowded floor and row stood facing Buckhurst. The two men were Speyer and Stauffer, Amid a whirlwind of applause their names were presented and accepted. Buck- hurst administered, the, oath. Flourens dramatically returned their salutes. Mor- tier, his ape-like face staine] a dull red with excitement, sat behind his desk, on which lay a pile of,red cocardes, His litt!e insane eyes snapped as Speyer and Stauff- er marched up ta,be invested with the badge of anarchy.,, The crowd howled, ¢rums and bugles crashed out, the meeting was at an end. . Suddenly, in the midst of the tumult, Harewood ‘felt that somebody on the swarming floor below was looking straight at him. He turned his head uneasily. Buckhurst’s colorless eyes met his own. For a full minute they gazed silently at each other. across that smoke-reeking chaos. The bugles’ ear-splitting racket, the crashing of brazen drums, the echoing howl died away in Harewood’s ears. He only heard a clear, penetrating voice repeating. “Silence, silence, if you please, gentlemen,” and Buckhurst, with his eyes still fixed on him, touthed Speyer on'the elbow. Staut- fer, too, was locking up now. Speyer had turned livid when he saw Harewood. “Come,” muttered Bourke, “we might as well get out of this,” and he moved toward the stairway, Harewood following, As they reached the last step and startead to push through the crowded doors, a hand fell lightly on Harewood’s shoulder. ‘Buck- shouted the o hurst stood beside him. The involuntary start that Harewood gave communicated itself to Bourke. He also turned to confront Speyer and Stauf- ter Gentlemen,” said Buckhurst, in English, “your faces are famiHar to me. Capt. Speyer tells me that you are New York reporters. Do you know me?” “Yes,” said Harewood sullenly. _Buck- hurst’s pale eyes stole round to Bourke, then returned directly to Harewood. “Of course,” he said placidly, “if you cable anything unpleasant about me I'll have your throat cut.” Harewood started on again toward the door, but Speyer jerked him back, saying savagely: “Listen. Do you hear?” and Buckhurst added quietly, “You'd better listen.” If Bourke had not gripped Harewood'’s arm in time Speyer’s face would have suf- fered. With clenched fists Harewood push- ed toward him. Buckhurst flung him back. showing his teeth slightly, his face dis: torted with that ghastly smile that none who had ever seen it could forget. ae you cable for my extradition,” he said, “I ll cut your throat as a spy.” ‘Spy stammered Harewood furiously. “Yes, an imperial spy who aided the e press to escape from the Tuileries. You {col, don't you think I know? You and your comrade and two women named Chalais— yeu aided the empres: Harewood was dumb; Bourke stared at Speyer, who sneered in his face. “You Want a witness? I am the witnes: said Speyer. Buckhurst 3 urned fiercely on Bourke. ‘Look out!” he whispered; “don’t try any of your — newspaper tricks on me. The government last night decreed the e pulsion of every dissolute woman from Paris during the siege, and if you give me any trouble I'll set the police on your charming little Chalais girls!” Harewood struggled to strike him; Buck- hurst faced him, one hand in his coat pocket, “I've got a pistol in my pocket,” he si “It covers you. If it wasn't that I don’t Want a row that might lead to an i gation I'd shoot you now. Stand back! Get out of here and keep your mouth shut or I'll let the whole hall trample your face in the floor! Harewood, white to the lips, jostled by the crowd pouring through ‘the doors, strove to keep his position in front of Buck. He looked into the pale, merciles . he saw the outlines of fist and leveled pistol in the black side pocket of Buck- hurst’s coat. He saw, too, suspicious faces peering at him from’ the’ passing crowd— dark en eyes, burning with the smol- Speyer sneered at Stauffer’s weak blond face relaxed n insulting smile. “ome,” muttered Bourke, rothing ‘to do,” Harewood’s arm. No,” said Harewcod aloud, nething to do—row.” Buckhurst heard. His thin lips receded again, showirg an edge of snow-white teeth. Neither now nor later,” “Leave this nant” peyer cut in: “If you give us any trouble the governor of Paris shall know how the empress escaped! And you can take yourself out of the Rue d’Ypres, too— bag and baggage—and women!” Bourke had dragged Harewood back to the door, repeating in a whisper: “For Ged’s sake, Jim, let them alone! Let them alone!” Buckhurst followed slowly, Speyer er in the rear. Behind ing turned out in dark street outside ith an autumn ckering flame of a id. dering fire of frenzy. him. “there is and he laid his hand on “there is he said softly. at his elbow, St them the ligkt the th empty hall foul sidew mppos| ‘ Bourke, urging Harewood. 0 the street. The night was appalling i its fathomless blackness. The leaves’ on an unseen tree stirred somewhere them. “They” Bourke, ve fellewed su whispered training his eyes bi to the Jae gaping door of the hall. “Listen, im! The silence was absolute. Down the Street the single gas jet burned uncertain- how flaring up into a yellow patch of now sinking to a blue spark, E} Harewood felt the haunting presence of s mething that he neither saw nor heard. It was ¢ to him, there in the shadow moving nearer. Then the darkness seemed to part before his eyes, @ shaft of flame singed his brow, and the narrow street resounded with the racket of a pistol shot. y he struck out, and struck knowing that it was Buckhurst who had rece! full in th s from aMantern. H Bourke knocking S of Buckhurst, his white blood, groping on the volver, of Speyer s ved the blow the shutter glim: of r into the gutter, face soiled with dewalk for his re- ing his arm for a blow. The blew was for Harewood him- self, It caught him fairly on the neck, and sent him flat. Dazed, he struggled to tise. A knee p back, a_ knife glimmered in n light, falling swiftly toward him, only to be caught by another knife and sent whirling. And now he was on his feet m, and again the blinding flash of a pistol dazzled him, half revealing a swarm of dark, hurryirg figures closing in arcund them. It reveal- ed something else, too—the hard face of the Mouse starting from the shadows at his elbow “This monsieur,” muttered the Mouse. “Hold to my arm.” A lantern fell violently to the sidewalk, rolled arcund and went out, leaving a stench of petroleum in the air. There was a sudden rush, a collision, angry, panting voices, the dull sound of blows, a shrill ery: “The police Harewood, running through the darkness, one hand on the Mouse's arm, turned sharply with his guide into a broader street, lighted by a dozen lamps. At the same instant Bourke rounded the opposite corner and met them y ce to face. For a minute they stood there Lreathless, Hstening to the distant shout- ing and trampling that gradually grew duller, a3 though the affray had almost subsided. “Mince!” sald the Mouse, thrusting his tongue into the corner of his cheek and holding up a broad-bladed knife. “I was just in time, eh, monsieur?” He shuffled his feet reflectively, glanced obliquely at Bourke, shrugged his shoulders and laugh- ed, nodding half patronizingly when Hare- wood began to thank him. “Bah—that is nothing, my friend. There are miracles in Belleville when the Mouse patters through the dark. Besides the four winds blow for nothing, but it costs money to five.” “Come to the Rue d’Ypres tomorrow,” said Harewood soberly, “and the four winds will blow you something besides air.” “At your service,” said the Mouse with impudent condescension, “and, -messieurs, I have the honor—” He bowed with exaggerated politeness, turned on his ragged heel, and slouched off into the night. ‘To be continued. —— The Gorgon’s Head. . From Harper's Magazine. There is a great store of iron at Eliza- vetpol, but it is so heavily associated with titanium, and this is so expensive to cast off, that it Is not believed it can be prot ably worked. A French engineer who studied the Caucasus products in 1897, said that this ore is of so little value that mountains of it in the United States are considered worthless, and passed over by capital. In order to work it at all, coke is necessary, and there is no coking coal in the region. A Russian engineer, interested in developing the country, assures me that a coal that will produce coke has been found at a place thirty versts from Kotais, but this has yet to be demonstrated. Ko- tais, by the way, is the place to which the Argonauts came, ard whence they brought back the Gorgon’s head, with its flaming eyes, its hair of snakes and its appearance of fearful ferocity, the whole being sym- bolical of the fever-producing c'imate and flerce wild beasts which still render the lccality one to be avoided. The -oal, which perhaps gave flame to the Gorgon’s eyes, is in character something between lignite and anthracite—a hign grade of lignite, I am told. ro New Zealand Mutton. From Good Words. The story of a New Zealand sheep de- signed for the London market may be very briefly told. It is taken from the run of the slaughter house, killed, dressed and transferred to the cooling room. The skin and superfluous fat are retained; after ten hours’ cooling the carcass goes into the re- frigerating room for ‘thirty-six hours, ‘Thence it goes to the storing room and when it has been enveloped in {ts cotton “shirt” and labeled is ready for its journey over sea. The steamers which bring the meat to us though the tro} have, of ances, and our sheep takes its among thousands of others, some of the boats be- ing fitted to carry as many as 70,000 car- AMBITIOUS — ARTISTS Find the Road to the Salon Beset With Obstacles. GOAL ON WHICH ALL EYES ARE SET Can They but Achieve It Real Success May Follow. HOW THEY GO ABOUT IT pe Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. PARIS, May 19, 1898. ‘ART N'A PAS DE pa: suggests the American student in the Latin Quarter, nervousty. “Lard n’a pas de pays?” interrogates a French confrere, ma- liciously. “You'll see — this year!” And then the Amer- ican art student sighs and wonders. He wonders if his coun- try’s war with Spain king his career he feels around shall be the means of che He wonders if the prejudic him. cht, it is true, almost a joke in his old Kindly Latin Quarter—can extend by any possibility to the grave ju of the Saion. Shail his picture have less chan of acceptance for the reason that he is ar American? Strange speculation! situation! An American not persona grata! An American forced to take refuge in a motto—and be answered with a punning Sibe! “Liart n'a pas de pays,” (“Art has no country”), “l'art” being pronounced “lar.” Lard n’as pas de 7” (Lard has no country ?)—“lara” be also pronounced “Jar The American art student has seen his fellow countrymen called “merchants of pork” and “exploiters of trichinosis” in the current sensational journals of the boule- vard. Novel s The Salon Indispensable. Of course it is only a joke on the part of his French fellow student, proud of having achieved a pun; and they both laugh it over, with different emotions. But the thought remains. It linge! ‘an it make a difference? It was already so hard to get into the Salon. And his time is so short in Pari Perhaps he must go home next year. “Anything I paint I can sell in Spring field, if only I get into the Salon,” reflec the Amer! nt. “And I lamazoo'’ dreams American girl student. They must get into the Salon! Which of the two Salons—the old, which is official, or the new, which is a secession —does not much matter; but they rather incline to go in for the old, which distrib- utes medals and honors. Have they not the examples of Elizabeth Gardner, who is On the Way to the Salon. now Mme. Bouguereau, and Lucy Lee Rob- bins, who is also blessed with a foreign name and still under her American appeila- | for the exposition of 1900. Then the brand- new palaces of art will be ready, and they have been built as permanent homes for these annual “art exhibitiors, which are nearly two centuries old. They have done more than anything else to encourage fine art in France and in America, too, since there are few American artists who have not undergone tho influence, if not the actual training, of the Paris art schools If carts were not so cheap the result migh not be the same. There are hundreds 0 them drawing up at the gallery during the four days allowed for entering paintings The Cany Arriving. Under the arch crowds are waiting, made up largely of the students themselve see the arrivals. The wag fortunate, are looked at pecially when some c: Pompous elderly artist with his wife in a carriage; there is a great hush as they look with awe at the ribbon of the Legion of Honor which tells of past glory. When the picture is of unvsual dimensions it comes rolled, and ofte: final work of painting is done in the s preceding t official sending in. An American, who had won honorable distinction by | paintings whose size grew year by year, at last ob: tained permission to paint the entire work ere, where it was to be exhibited. It was as jarge as a western prairie—and the jury refused it! Tableau’ When our young man’s handcar he carefully holding his precious and his model with conscious modesty side him on a ct up from t how! of The air—a delight « whit blue-capped ¢ sten forward, run. off with the before his start! eyes, and run back with the pink slij which is his receipt for its delivery and conta the num! tor which he is call in case of i Then the Reaction. Then he beg to feel the ané to doubt if, all, he a masterpiece. He ste 1, decause through his brain ing Mark Twain's maddening pink tris he rest ack the nex Cay te do the final touches on the where the jury is to sit on his As he ente oor he ree young woman from Kalamazoo A Big Picture a tong cloak, un which a suspiciout square package shows that she has di pensed with the cari, and is b in h immor‘al art y by hand. Is I thus hope to de ances Lite thinking tbs did rot try for the sal She hurr past, anJ the young man only says “Ab-h! himself Phen eight to twelve days and there is no news from the jury two s or by Lar lee for the Invall From the Philadelphia 9 1 in varicus ways in illness Phe ice bag is ay where t f th prope mmon bladder from the butch , filled with ice broken up into to lie on the part cork is placed i the ¢ ter it may be tied more securely. The i should be slung over place, so that the weight of the bag dc not resi on the pert, but just be in contact ‘0? folded flannel! cr lint should at the bag does not rest ht cause gangrene without this it mii caution. is given to stop s pre Ice kn tion exhibits figures not always clothed, | of hemorrhage fiom th= lungs a sma but probably in their right mind, bec is placed on the tongue frequently, they are right in drawing; and Mrs. Went-| should b> kept in large lumps if possible, worth, who is now a marquise, with a pic- | and these ought to be wrapped in a flannel ture in the government gallery of the Lux- | or bi 3 cn required to be kept by embourg? Or shall they emulate Mary Cas- | the bi a flannel is tied over a cup or basin, the ice resting in the center; the water then runs, when ad, into a now esteemed by all Pa- | cup, and prevents the ice from 1 ~Z too risian authorities for her advanced art—| quickly. A darning needle or bonnet pin is quite the latest impressionism — without | the best thing to break up the ic: with, if @ ever having had a medal at all? The proper ice pick is not at hand. scussion is invaria- bly that—the Salon must be got into. Ungallant Male Students. 2 A Plea That Touched the Court. From the "Detroit Free Press. The male student imagines that the} jie was a rash and impetuous young la American girl will have an easier time of | yer, who had just had a decision giver it this year than himself. He has already | against him by the circuit judges. He had been complaining of the girls for some] made a Lard fight, and the result was a years past. To his suspicious mind they take advantage of their weakness, He charges them with slyly changing profes- sors till they find one susceptible to their coaxings and entreaties. “It is such a lit- tle thing, professor!” And “It is not as if I were a man, professor!” It may be only @ poor little miniature, born to blush un- seen in its little corner throughout the two months of the exhibition and then be pack- ed away triumphantly to Kalamazoo or Springfield, but there it is, and there is no getting over it that one more American girl has got Into the Salon. ‘The young men have to go about matters more systematicaliy. Some have begun a year before, and have sacrificed a part of their summer vacation, and brushed in and out so many of their heart's aspirations that they have hypnotized themselves into believing their canvas second to none but the best of the old masters. A month be- fore the pictures have to be sent in, to be z pon” by the jury are thi all the great art ned out the afternoon. I is understood that the absentees are work- ing at their Salon pictures. Those who have a private studio work at home, others get quarters in the studio of some indulgent friend who knows what the Salon fever is himself. Field is Limited. Half the space at each Salon is reserved for the members; that is, for artists whose reputation is already established. Half the rest is sure to go to older men who are long since cut of the classes. So there is little enough chance for the raw student, but ke goes in for it all the same. When, at the last moment, he has left his picture in the hands of the attendants who are to deposit it where the jury can inspect it, the breathless young man is dazed by re- ceiving No. 4900 for his receipt. And he knows that only 1,800 will be hung alto- gether, of which about 200 will be chosen from among those still in the classes. It is then he reflects with bitterness on the American girl, who takes away his chances of fame and so forth. When he is wise, he has found means to see one of his professors privately—one or other of them is sure to be on the jury—to confide to him his Salon aspirations and ask leave to show his picture to him, for final advice, before it is sent in. The pro- fessor, who has been there himself, is obliging and promises to remember his pupil, occasion offering. And he keeps his word, unless the canvas he {s invited to consider is too, too bad—a regular “crust,” as the French say. Benjamin Constant, who has reason to like Americans, who give him so many orders for high-priced portraits, will even visit the struggling young artist's studio, take up the brush and put in a dab of bright color of his own to remind him of the promised favor when the picture comes up before the dreaded jury. The Model as Guest. “We all go today—come, I'll give you a rid says the artist nervously to his model, when the picture is finally to go off to the Salon. She—it is regularly she for the male students, the girls often ehoosing crushing blow to his youthful ambition. “I cannot reconcile this finding with the mands of justice,” he shouted, looked defiantly at the judges. It was an cutbreak startling as de- fiant. While the court had its hb s together with a view to determining what penalty should be meted out for this glaring offense, one of the ol titicners at the bar arose and addresse the judges Your honors,” he said, “I am satisfied that it is only because this young man is a novice that he has thus erred. I crav: your mercy because he knew no better Had he practiced before your honors as long as I have, it would have been impos- have sur; d him bv do. the z And after the court 1 laugh it could not fine for contempt. as he sible for you to anything you might man time to learn.” ad joined in a ge consistently impose a The old-fash- ioned watch- man who prowled about the streets of medieval Lon- don, with a lan- tern in his hand to pro- claim his com- ing, and who announced his passa through the streets by shouting “‘All’s well,” was a very inefficient protector when compared with the metropoli- tan police of New York City, commonly known as the “Finest.” The modern policeman does not proclaim his coming to the evil doer by shouting or by carrying alantern. He does his work more quietly and effectively than the old-fash- ioned town watchman. : It is thus that in all the walks of life and f f 1 chemists have rapidly more skillful. There are medicinal prepatations now-e- days that cure diseases that were a few =. ago considered absolutely incurable. ¢ final triumph in this res; is Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery. It was first given to the world thirty years , aud has stood the test ever since that time. It cures 98 per cent. of all cases of consumption, bronchial, throat and kindred