Evening Star Newspaper, June 11, 1898, Page 16

CHAPTER XIV. An Open Door. imi ced banks of limmered over Meu- the battery smoke, drifting across t forts, turned to pink and pearl. Soeft thunder ered among the westw Tredoubts; silvery electric stars prickcd the haze that veiied jerten; the river slipped past misty, meadowed shores untroubled by a kel. ‘The house on the ramparts was very still; Bour! sat in his room by the window reade ing; Harewood stood at his window looking out over the valley. Below him, the Pro- Phet, tilted skyward, loomed, ominously swat in its canvas winding shest. The Sentinel stood motionless on the parapet, | head turned toward the hazy hills, where | a thin column of smoke mounted straight up {nto the still sky. Once a littie whirl- wind of bugle music from the Porte Rouge filled the street; once the wind veered and the heavy detonation of the cannonade set the sultry air a-quiver for a while. The expectancy of evening brooded over all » massive ramparts, over the thickets on the glacis, in an wind that freshened and © face, yet scarcely stirred a leaf. Presently there cam tter of small | ac sabots on the stairs ovtside, the discre2t paiter of stockinged feet, a knock, a happy whisper. It wa Red Riding Hood, come | for her evening visit. Harewood kissed her | listlexsly. “You bring twilight with you, little on2 he said, turning back her thick biack curls. “The scarlet ribbon—it is very becoming— do you know it?’ “Monsieur Rourke gave { nestling closer to him. down, will you?” Harewood absently drew a chair to the window: Red Riding Hood leaned against his shoukler. They looked out over the ley in silence. might have been perfect,” said Red | Riding Hood presently, “but Mlle. Hilde could not give m2 my Iésson today. Harewood asked without turning, “Why? = > not know,” said the child with a] little sigh. Harewood bit his lps; his heart | turned sick with the futile bitterness that | follows—too late, the knowiedge of conse- quenc>s, consequences that spread like rip- fi le In a troubled pool. je will hear your lesson tomor- looking trom the window. " repeated the child. hing more. ”* said the child, ome, let us sit omorrow aid no Perhaps he was those endless tomorrows, pas: ach one tr as the } rings in a pool d b the placid reigned there. And he ” said the child. 1 his head, her dark eyes met tter hour, he followed, silently, » dared not break. about the dining room singing to herself in an undertone. He d into haliway and out to the store rc. where Hilde knelt among the ges. ne saw him she rose to h hiding her b knees, ein her hands. He er and touched the flushed | r > by one he the slender fing y inter- . and at last he r. her head to Sut she would not look at him, her lids pressed the lashes tightly to k “Why have you hidden away all days? he said. wer @round his neck There wa t he released her and the quic tried in her eyes without falling, to the open door and stood nto the wes thr wly ugh through the music of his cannonade’s dull triple SaW green tree tops stirring in | came and stood beside her. Love's | itude hung heavy on her limbs. H took her unresisting hand—that little hand, | so small, oth, fragrant and fraught rool white blossom with tipped with pink. beauty of life was.upon her, the s of the world was in her eyes— so kind to her kind to all— a west a flaming belt of haze ne horizon; in the north plumed pended from the zenith hung e glass of the stream mir- tr en their silence grew too hea: too for such young hearts, they broke it; and it broke musically, with the melody of caught questions—a sigh, a hoed pure as the tinkl> sses touched discre y. umming of the r like the atoms — tiny white dusting the blue like When the sun was very low and the level meadows ran molten gilt In every harrow, the rrows, gathered for the night on | of, filled the street with restless at stirred the czged birds in che | t answered thrush, finches whis- | answers to the free twittering | ows; a little lark rustled and kbird uttered a still, thin de. who, when her own heart had never understood captivity, now, when s listened, understood, and | her own imprisoned heart answered the plaint of wild caged thir To her spoken thought he answered; | together sathered a the feathered wild things into great wicker cage. pale eye was veiled in scorn; | floute: fre iom with a gri- ing and mouthing as the hun- at at the wicker rs. Harewood took the cage; Hilde walked beside him, in ecstacy at the thought of freedom given by those who know that something else is sweeter. There was a shrub in flo on the glacis—some late- bicoming & bush, starred with waxen blos- s. breathing perfume. Under this they ced t . When Hilde opened the eage a feathered whirlwind circled about her head; there | came a rush of wings, a thrilling whir-r! and she clasped her hands and stepped for- ward. Out over the valley the bird flock Fushed, bore to the left, cireled, rose, swurg back on a returning curve, ‘but al- ways rising higher, higher, un far ip ning evening sky, they floated, and chose their course due south. She w d@ them driving southward. Bhe could tel! the finches by their undul. ing flight, the thrushes, the clean-winged | Starlings. She sighed contentedly. She had opened the door of pity when love opened the door to her heart. “Look,” whispered Harewood, “there is one little bird that will not leave us.” “It is dead—God forgive me,” faltered Hilde. A rush of tears blinded her. She knelt beside it on the grass—a frail mound of fluff and feathers, silent and still. “Freedom and death—life is so sweet—so Sweet,” she whispered. “And somewhere | theatrical entrance; it her to him. He bent and searched her changed face. The wind, too, had changed. There was frost somewhere in the world, and the mn harmony of the cannon swelled with the swelling breeze, and the breeze sUrred a broken feather on the dead bird's sUffenirg wing. A CHAPTER ‘XV. The Anatomy of Happiness. That night they closed the empty bird store; Harewood lifted the woden shutters into place and locked them. Hilde carried the monkey into the dining room and in- stalled it in a warm corner. Mehemét Ali, the parrot, viewed these proceedings with contempt. It mattered little to him where he passed his pessimistic days. Weariness and a vicious melancholy had marked him for their own. Even when he ate he ate as if he were making an ironical conces- sion to the weakness of some one else. Curiosity he had subdued, sinister solitude he courted, and bit when it was denied him. ‘There had been a time in earlier days when he whistled the ‘Marseillaise’—when he croaked “Vive l'Empereur.” Now for a year he had been mute, brooding in silence zmong the noisy feathered inhabitants of the bird store, dreaming, perhaps schem- ing—for he had the sly, slow eye of the oriental. He bit Harewood when that young man Was bearing him to the dining room, and when dropped diplomatically, sidled under a sofa. From this retreat he made daliy excursions, mounting all the furniture by aid of beak and claw, sulleniy menacing those who approached. Scheherazade had not recovered from her fright. The characteristics of the big rouse cat had almost disappeared; she cowered when approached, she slunk when she moved; there was a blankness in her eves, a stealth, almost a menace, in the slow turning of her head. Already in these carly days of the siege milk was becoming too expensive to buy for a Honess; meat also had increased so swiftly in price that Yolette was frightened, and haunted the market wistfully, scarcely daring to buy. Vegetabies, bread and wine, however, were plenty; so were proclamations from the governor of Paris assuring everybody that the city had ample provisions for months to come. Most people thought that the in- crease in the price of meat was only tem- porary—a mere flurry caused by the con- summation of an event that was not yet entirely credited—the actual advent of the Prussian army before Paris. The arrival of the Germans was like a the audience was all Paris, the orchestra, a thousand cannon. They tuned up by batteries, west, south and finally north, as the vast circle of steel closed closer, closer, and finally welded with the srap of a trap. Then when the city and outer ring of forts were in turn them- ves encircled by a living iron ring, when the full thunder from the battery of the double crown was echoed from St. Denis to Mont-Valerien, from Saint Cloud to Char- enton, and again from the southeast north- ward to St. Denis, Paris began to under- stand. The first futile curiosity, the foolish ter- ror fear of instant bombardment, died eut as the weeks passed and the crack of the Prussian rifted cannon had_not. yet awakened the hill echoes of Viroflay. The Freclamations urging the instant tear- up of pavements, the fortifying of cel- the assuring of a water supply, were People began to realize that it iege batteries— every gun capable of throwing a lar: forgotten. takes months to establish | that for shell into Paris the Germans would have to send to Germany. Fear vanished; how long it would take to convey heavy cannon from Berlin across France to the Seine! And would not the convoys be cut off by the franc-tireurs, by the provincial armies now organizing, by an uprising of outraged le? Surely the very land, the elements ves, would rise and destroy these ns and their wieked cannon. Tro- the somber mystic, the Breton gov- or of republican Paris, moved on his darkened way, a flash of tinseled pomp, a shred of pageantry, the last paladin riding back into the gloom of the middle ages, seeking light, fleeing light, wrapped to the yes in the splendid mantle of the Trinity. o he rode, esquired by Faith, dreaming of saints and quests of chivalry, pondering miracles. As a figure for a Gobelin tapes- try General Trechu would have been use- ful; in no other capacity, save perhaps in a cloister, would he have been of use in the nineteenth century. When on the 17th of September the Prus- sian advance guard was signaled and sa- luted by the forts of the west and south, General Vinoy’s brave corps passed the gates and advanced to Cretail. The affair was not serious—nothing was serious then. And yet that was the very time when a crushing success might have electrified the whole natidén into such resistance that the lend of the war would not have arrived with the capitulation of the capital. Was not possible to rapidly mass the two corps of Vinoy and Ducrot to crush the few thousand men of the advance guard? The moral effect of such a stroke would have been stupendous. But in this first engagement under the walls of Paris the deplorable system was inaugurated and invarlably followed in all subsequent operations around Paris, fight- “He Will Fight Until He Dies.” ing without a fixed objective, forcing new troops not sufficiently habituated to fight- ing, and on the contrary, when a serious object was in view, operating with insuf- ficient numbers and inadequate artillery, On the 18th of September, when Vinoy’s corps fell back, the Prussian investment began, the various railroads were cut, and at 3 o'clock in the afternoon the last train from Paris for Rouen left the St. Lazare station. From every direction the German masses poured into the eountry; the Prince of Saxony advanced from the north, salut- ing St. Denis with a thousand trumpets; the Prince of Prussia rode up fram the south through Fontenay aux Roses and woke Aunay woods with the hurrahs of his horsemen. Two vast crescents formed the circle; the ring was soldered at Versailles in the east; ———~ s fee op nme * Then on the 19th of tem! “anven the Chatillon redoubt, in the south, where the others have gone, there is summer, eternal summer—ife— Ue ‘Winter is close,” he answered, somberly. ‘With an unconscious movement he drew was attacked in the south, flanked, pell mell under where the great forts of Vanves and Mont- rouge shiclded him. At 4 o’clock-the few cannoneers spiked the last guns in the un- finished Chatillon redoubt and retired. Cla« | mart, Villejuif and Meudon swarmed with Prussian cavalry. Night came, and Paris RITTEN FOR "THE EVENING STAR BY ROBFW-CHAMBERS: OPHETEVENENG STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 11, 1898-24 PAGES. knew that its southern key had been stolen when the Prussian flag crept up the shat- tered stas on the ramparts of Chatillon. So was lost the southern key to Paris, the great unfinished redoubt of Chatillon. Let those high officers of engineers remem- ber—let others in high places of the land remember—and be remembered. Scarcely had the investment of Paris been completed when the humiliating interview at Ferrieres between Jules Favre and Bis- marck became known to the public. Had Jules Favre carefully considered the mat- ter. had he offered terms, for example, as follows: First—An indemnity. : Second—The dismantling of one or two of the eastern forts. Third—The cession of Cochin China. Fourth—The cession of a few ironclads. doubtless Germany—coerced by Europe— would have accepted. But it was not to be. The poor represen- tative of the republic left the Prussian headquarters with Bismarck's harsh voice ringing in his ears, and the next day all Paris knew that it was to be a struggle to the death. Stung again into action, Vinoy, support- ed by the forts, hurled a division of the 13th Corps on Villejuif and carried it. On September 20 Chevilly and Choisy- le-Roi were attacked. Again the fatal THE LOVELINESS OF THE feared. Yét of thé million qyestions she could not utter one, feast of_al! eternal question, more surely asked answered in silence. Witg her love came terror, too, lasting the spacs of a heartbeat, dying out with a quick sighaa jutter of silken lashes, ® parting of scatiét ‘divinely wistful. As for the man beside her, he stood thrill- ed, yet thoughtful, following: his thoughts through the dim labyrinths of his heart, that beat deeply, heavily, against her yi2ld- Ing breast. What had happened he scarce- ly comprehended. .He only knew that love is sweet. The beginning was alrsady so long ago, so dim, ‘so far away. When had it been? Had they not always loved? And if the beginning of love was already half forgotten, the ead, loomed vaguer still, the distant future promis2d nothing yet; a veil of mist, rose-tinged, exquisite, although be- hind the veil something was already stir- ring, a shape-nothing—because he refused to see. Yet it was ther>. Hilde felt its presence, unconsciously shrinking in her lover's arms, and again the questions stung her lips. “Is it.love—love for me? Is it truly love? Is it forever? Is it truth and faith and constancy, forever and for2ver?* Her breathless lips parted, but no question passed them, and they were sealed again In silence. 22 Hilde and Harewocd moved once mors to the door. Night stretched its star-lined tent from the zenith; the moon, enmeshed in a fathomless film, hung in a corner, a tar- rished rim of tinsel, pale as a silv2ry with- ered leaf. As they stood there Bourke came through the hall with Yolette, bid- ding them hurry, for dinner -was over. Then they went away clos2 together, and their voices were lost on the dim gfacis where the scented shrubbery spread its perfume through the shadows. Hilde glided silently“-to her chamb2r; Harewood waited for her, standing by the table where Bourke's and Yolette's plates had already been removed. R2d Riding Hood came to the kitchen door with a shy “good evening,” and, when Hilde had re- turned and seated herself, the child brougit dinner and s2rved it with the adoration that serves a shrine. Twice Hilde kissed her, for she needed tle love of all, now that she had given a love, infinite and innocent; « love that 2mbraced the world and life and death. “Red Riding Hood's father has gone with the 13th Battalion,” she said, looking WORLD WAS IN HER EVES. lack of sufficient artillery nullified the ad- vantage gained at Villejuif. The sphere of action had scarcely been enlarged at all. From the ramparts of Paris these first engagemerts under the walls were scarce- ly visible to the people—scarcely audible, save for the thunder from the supporting torts. A high rampart of dun-colored mist stretched from the Montrouge fort to Arcueil; beyond it, denser volumes of smoke poured up into the sky from I'H At moments the wind brought the crackle of the fusillade through lulls in the can- non din—scareely louder than the crackle of a bonfire. ‘This was all that the Pari- sians could see or hear from the southern bastions. Great crowds of women and children watened the infantry passing through the Porte Rouge; the cavalry sang as they rode between ‘lense masses of excied people; the cannoneers swung their thongs and chanted gayly: Gai! Gal! serrons nos rangs, Esperance De Ia France Gai! Gai! serrons nos rangs, En avant, Gaulols et Franes! to the air of “Gai! Gai! Marions Nous!” and the franc-tireurs took up the song savagely: Quoi! ces monuments cheris, Histoire De notre glotre, S‘ecrouleralent en debris, Quoi! les Prussiens a Paris! and the people roared back the chorus: Gai! Gal! serrons nos ranga! Hilde, standing at the door, heard them singing at sunrise, caught the distant glint of bayonets, saw the sun, white and fierce, crinkling the polished surface of helmet and breastplate. At night, too, lingering on the steps, she heard the movement and murmur of narching masses; she saw the rockets drifting through the sky, the jeweled string of signal lamps swinging like a necklace from the Porte Rouge battle- ments. All day long the Rue d’Ypres rang with the clang of bugles and the vi- brating crash of drums; all day long the cannoneers of the Prophet drilled and maneuvered and played at firing, but the night came and found the prophet’s lips sull sealed and the long bronze fetish mo- tioniess, reaching toward heayen in its aw- ful attitude of prayer. Since those early practice shots that had shattered the window glass the Prophet had not spoken; yet all day long its gigan- tic mass, thrust out over the ramparts, swung east and west at the monotonous commands, sweeping the points of the compass with the smooth movement of a weather vane turning jn a June breeze. Harewood, locking the dusty wooden shutters for the last time, turned to watch the Prophet as it swept to the west, stop- ped, sank at the breech as a horse sinks on his haunches. For the hundredth time he thought they were going to fire, but the gun captain tock up his mechanical call: “Elevation at 1,500, at 2,000, at 2,500," and the pointeur mounted the bastion and eall- ed the class of instruction to the breech. In the evening glow the ramparts burned bright, the dust in the streets gleamed like powdered rubies; long, mousy shadows stretched across the grass, soft and velvety as the bloom on a purple plum. When Harewood had finally locked the shutters he climbed up and unhooked the sign of the shop. Hilde watched him with- out speaking, he lifted the signboard to his shoulder and carried it into the darkened shop. To Hilde ft was the last scene in the prologue of a drama—the drama of a new life, just beginning. She went into the shop and looked at the sign that was standing upside down against 5 “It is one of my landmark: she said, “they are all going now, one by one. Yes- terday my Sainte-Hilde of Carhaix fell and broke on the tiled floor, and I shall miss the birds, too.” She added hastily: “I am glad that they flew away; you must not think I regret anything.” Harewood, standing close besid2 her, said: “You regret nothing, Hilde?" ~ After a long while she answered, “‘Noth- you?” & “What have I to regret?” he said in an pspee voice, prepares; ey Arpt ocirghe its irony—uncon t a the mouthpiece of his. sex, voicing the mas of an imbecile civilization. She her head. Pap tghess face rasted shoulder. Ali the million questions and flutter in a heart ed, trembied on her'lips, that si know, all that she should know, all ge fut i é i at across at Harewood. “I begin to think our little one will always be with us.” The child listened with downcast eyes. Hare- wood smiled at her and Grew her to him. When did he 40?” he asked. “Toda: replied Red Riding Hood. is a brave soldier.” As the child spoke her dark eyes glowed: for at last he had been justified in his daughter's eyes—this squalid, drunken father, glorious in the shining garments of resurrection—a home-made uniform with epaulets. War, tne great purifier, had come with blessings to Red Riding Hood, and the child of chance, whom chance al- lotted to her father, sewed gilded braid and brave buttons on her father’s clothes, that he might be fine among the fine; that he might no longer be ashamed among men; that she ro longer need be silent when men spoke of honor and virtue and brave deeds and the soldiers of France. ‘He will fight until he dies,” said the child, seriously. ver “Pray God he may not die,” said Hilde gently. “He will die,” replied Red Riding Hood with that quiet conviction that makes chil- dren sometimes feared. Late that night Harewood; sleeping cn his tumbled bed, was awakened by Bourke. “Jim, there’s a man’ at the door below; Red Riding Hood's father is dead.’ “Dead?” repeated Harewood. - “He was drunk—he fell from thé draw- bridge at the Porte Rouge.” Harewood threw on his coat ahd~went gravely te the little ‘room where Red Rid- ing Hood tay asleep. “Little one,” he whis- pered. She felt for his hand im the dark- ness, clasped it in both ef hers and’ pressed her wet face to the pillow. - “Tt was a brave death—a soldier's death,” he whispered. She wept; it was the one pleasure her. father ‘had ever given her, his death. She thought of the man himself and wondered why she wept. Harewood, too, wondered, and she answered his unasked question: “I weep because I have nothing to weep for. Go, now, and leave me with my hap- piness. “He CHAPTER XVI. Betrothed. In Paris the days succeeded each other with few incidents and moderate excite- ment. Suspense had given place to cer- tainty. The city was completely hemmed in by an unseen enemy, urseen save for the smoke of burning villages on the horizon, yet that enemy had as yet done nothing. Notre Dame and the Tuileries were still standing, cabs, cars, omnibuses ran as usual, and the boulevards and cafes were thronged. True, there had been a few alarms in the intertor of the city. A petroleum store- house caught fing om Montmartre through accident, a chesiica®?factory blew up in the Rue de Vaugirard‘and killed some peo- ple. Everybody Was cer that these fires were of incendi: in, but probably no- body knew the thunless Speyer and Stauffer knew iti Thére was practically no news from tne 9 es. Now and then a daring mewenger Managed to elude the Prussian pickets:an@ creep into the city, but, ‘except for that;*Paris was absolutely isolated from the rest of France, as far as receiving news was concerned. But the Parisians could send news by pigeons and balloons. They sént «something else, too— @ balloon loaded: with 200 pounds of M. Gambetta, destiped ito fill the Midi with his fanfare andi-gasconading, destined to flop in the Prussien dragnet and blind him- self a7 his fellow-victims with the tur- moil of his own-flopping, destined inciden- tally to aid in the disgrace and destruction of a brave incapable, more sinned against than sinning, the innocent, fat-brained Scapegoat of a frenzied nation—Bazaine, If there ever existed such a thing aa a pairi- otic demagogue, partly genius, ly mountebank, Gambetta must in the unique example, and yet the court-martial of Bazaine has left the stain that tarnishes the name of Gambetta and makes it stink a Uttle, too, i ‘The courage and id fortitude that brightened the mi of the year of punish- ment, the chagtisement -of a guilty nation, was displayed by the army and the men in high - government must ony’ c ‘bawling y and useless as . easy to equal to his task; Trochu, somber, fervidly good, living amid hallucinations,’ a monu- ment of martyred indecision—will some his- torian or writer of fiction—they are syno- nyms—be pleased to gild the letters of these great names? And while the romancér or historian—whichever you will—is about it, Bi him regild the name of Renan, as he sits feeding himself at Torton!’s in the starving city, splitting platitudes with De Goncourt. See him as he eats! His chin is fat, his belly fatter; his fat white fingers are spread out on either knee, the nails offensively untrimmed. He preaches uni- versal brotherhood; he is on good terms with humanity. Incidentally he talks much, and familiarly, about our Savior, and eats, eats, eats. In the beginning of his career Gambetta created for himself a name. It only took a few weeks to create it. He followed Roche- fort's methods with equal success. He was very popular in France. He was a talented lawyer. Again and again in the corps legis- “latif he showed himself to be not only an orator, but a statesman of a certain kind. In the beginning of the revolution he was auseful; he was the hyphen that connected the parti avance and-he bourgeoisie. He Was opposed to Trochu. He sailed away in his balloon to Tours, where he felt that his Sphere of action ended only with the fron- uer. He was mistaken. His colleagues proved useless. He set up a dictatorship that ended by sterilizing and making ridicu- lous his former enemy. “Did this young tribune of the people re- member that the greatest glory God can accord to man is the glory incomparable of saving his country? Had.he a soui sub- lime enough for such a mission? And the purity of his, intentions, the simplicity of his life, the elevation.of his-eharacter— were they so notorious that he should be deemed worthy of such an honor?” 5 Let France answer her own. . . . . . The third sortie ended in the fire-swept streets of Bagneux, and for the third time since the siege began the army of Paris retired to the city, having accomplished nothing except a few thousand deaths, highly commended by “Ollivier Militaire.” Bourke, hurrying back to the city, had at- tempted to telegraph this news by way of Bordeaux.- Then, when he had spent the remainder of the day in similar and equally vain attempts, he gave it up and went back to the house on the ramparts, where he found Harewood, pockets stuffed with un- sent dispatches, pacing the hallway and smoking furlously. “It’s just as I told you,” he said, when he saw Bourke. “We're cooped up for good. If you had listened to me and gone on to Versailles ° “Oh, shut up,” said Bourke, pleasantly. “You are no worse off than I am.” Harewood, a little ashamed of his selfish petulance, sat down on the stairs and looked over his dispatches. “We can’t run the lin2s,” he said; “we can’t send taese by pigeons, even if we had the pigeons; we might send them in the next balioon. “I've tried,” sald Bourke; He flung his own dispatch and lit a cigarette. “AS war news purveyors, “you and I are useless, my son, until @ sortie is made and the German lines pierced. Then we must b2 there; we must go out with the next sortie, and if our troops get through we must go, too.” “How about getting back?” asked Hare- wood. “Chance it.” Harewood was silent. “You're naturally considering Hilde and Yolette,” bgan Bourke. “Naturally,” replied the other with a tinge of irony, “So am I. Now, Jim, we are either war correspondents or we are not. We can do nothiug here, that’s certain. If we try to take risks and try to get through the lines, We staad every chance of early and uncon: fortable decease. But it’s what we're paid for. If we follow the next sortie we ma: get through with whole skins. That's m to iny taste and fairer to the journals. If We stay here, it is tru> we can chronicle the siege and watch for a hole in the German tines, but I think we ought to resign from cur journals in that case and risk selling our stuff outside if we can’t get it throuzh beforenand. That’s the only honorable cours? L see—either get out of the city or stay, resi and turn free lance. What do you think it’s no go.” 28 into a corner he observed, “I won't leave—for the present,” said Harewood, reddening. “Good,” replied Bourke, promptly. “Ne ther wall I while these young girls ar2 here alone. Of course, I knew you'd say that. Our papers will have to wait until we can get a chance to send in our resignations and reasons. That can't be helped. It was a practical mistake for us not to go ut of the city when we had the opportunity. It’s tough on our journals, but I've decided not to accept last month’s salary, and that will Square things. I'll not draw another cent, elther. Have you money, Jim?” “I've a little mone; said Harewood. He took out a notebook and pencil and caleu- lated. Pres2ntly he locked up. “We shall need our salaries before the month is out,”’ he observed. “Then,” said Bourke, “one of us must do the work for both. One of us must go out with the next sortie and g2t through if pos- sible.”" other?” asked “And — the slowly. “The cther ought to stay here—as loi there is danger. Jim, do you want to stay He forced a smile as he spoke. Har2 wood Said nothing. Bourke's embarrassment was increasing. He reddened and stood up. “De you care for Hilde?” he asked, with an effort. Harewood did not answer. Bourke rnbuckled the spurs from his riding boots and walked backward and forward, swing- ing the leathers till the rowels fingled like tiny chimes. After a moment he came up to Harewood, who was sitting moodily on the stairs. “‘I'should like very much to stay, Jim—if you don’t mind—very much.” Harewood did not move. Harewood, added Bourke, crimson to the temples, “but if I thought you loved Hilde, I would go. If you wish it I wili go tomorrow.” _ Harewood’s face was set and pale, his beart sank under an overwhelming rush of shame; sham:> for himself, shame because he could not answer the confidence of his comrade, bitter shame that he. should be wiling to accept a generous man’s sacrifici a man who loved for the first time in h life and who loved honorably. Bourk3 con- tinued almost timidly: “I never” imagined that Yolette was anything to me; I never thought of that sort of thing. It came be- fore I knew it, Jim: You see, I never befor> cared for a woman.”” Harewood’s strained glance met his questioningly and Bourke answered: “I have not spoken to ier, I don’t belizve she would listen to me: I scarcely dare think of it; you see, Jim, I’m not attractive.” He broke off abruptly; there was a swish of a skirt on the landing above; the sound of a door gently closing. “They don’t understand English,” mo- tioned Harewood; “go on. “Yes, they do—Hild3" does,” muttered Bourke. “Hilde understands English?” repeated Harewood in dull surprise. He had not even suspected it; suddenly he realized that he had lzarned nothing of Hilde—absolutely nothing, except that she loved him. Bourke slipped his riding crop into his boot, picked up his dispatches and moved toward the stairway. “It was Red Riding Hood; I think I saw her skirt,” he said. “Jim, shall I go with the next sortie?” Harewood turned and mounted tha stair- way with his comrade. “Come into my room in an hour; I’! tell you then,” he said, and left Bourke at the head of the stairs. When Harewood entered his room he went straight to the mirror.- A mirrored face looked back at his own—a face, young, firm, a little pale, with tightened muszles under the cheek bones, and lips compressed. Like painted pictures, scen2s began to pass, swiftly and more swiftly, gliding before his eyes; and behind each scene he saw the shape of his own face, he saw his reflacted eyes, immovable in accusation. And once, stung to torture by his eyes’ fixed condem- nation, he raised a menacing hand and pointed at the pointing figure in th2 mirror. “Coward!” But the mirrored shape was voiceless. (To be continued.) ‘ ‘ . A Sage Suggestion. From the Philadelphia Call, : Early Ryser—“Why don't you leave the match safe in one place two consecutive times? Every morning:I waste five minutes to find any- t you strike a ‘usually gets out of them." Sete AROUND CAPE HORN| Voyage From Yokohama to New York on a Warship. MORE THAN EIGHT MONTHS AT SEA Nothing to Break the Monotony of Life on Board. NO NEWS OF THE WORLD Written for The Evening Star. OYAGES OF MORE than a month's du- ration are rather un- usual now in our tavy, owing to the exclusive use of steam propul rendering vesseis in- Gependent of the fickle winds. Wer- sMps up to ten or fifteen years ago, however, had both sail and steam mo- tive power, the latter being merely auxillary to the former, and fo: use in entering and leaving port, as the old ships did not have the immense coal capacity of those of the present day. The writer some yeers ago made a cruise on the Asiatic station on one of the old type of sailing vessels with steam Propeller, and a3 our return voyage to the United States was over a course very rarely followed by a warship, as nearly all vessels of that class go through the Straits of Magellan (as was recently the case with the Oregon) when bound from the Pacific to the At- lantic, or vice versa, an account of the trip May prove of interest at the present time. The crew had for some time been expect- ing orders for home, the ship having been in commission for nearly three years (the usual term), and finally the anxiously awaited letter with the stamp of the Navy Department was delivered on board at Yckohama, directing the ship to proceed to New York via Cape of Good Hope. All hands were jubilant at the prospect of be- ing at home in three or four months, and a few-days later the “mud hook” came up in less time than was ever known before, when we took our departure for Kobe, “komeward bound.” Delayed by an Accident. After a short stay at Kobe we staried through the inland sea for Nagasaki, whence it was the intention to take our final departure from Japan. We should have arrived at Nagasaki about noon on the following Sunday, but on Sunday morn- ing about 8 o'clock, when we were all busy polishing our “kits” for inspection, several thuds in the engine room were heard, 20 different from the usual steady thumps of the engine that a general rush to the en- gine rdom hatch was made to ascertain the ceuse of the unvsual noise. By this timo the machiaery hed stopped entirely, and it Was soon made krown that the a: shaft had brok:n, a very, serious injury, and one which rendered the ship absolute. ly helpless, as there was not a breath of wind stirring to fill her sails. She was lying dangerously near to the shore, toward which the current was steadily drawing ber, so all U.e bats vere lowered to tuke her in tow and keep her from drifting closer. This was pretty hard work for the jackies,” as it was extremely hot, and all as hands were therefore much relieved when about 3 o'clock in the afternoon smoke was discovered on the horizon, which steadily approached, until it was found to proceed from a Russian man-of-war. Her capta upcn being informed of our predicamen kindly took us in tow for Nagasaki, whene he had come, aad where we arrived about 10 o'clock that right. Under Sails Only, After our mishap we fully expected our orders would be Changed so as to permit us to proceed to San Francisco instead of to New York, and were much disappointed when an order came from the department to take out the propeller, wall up the pro- peller well (the space in which the propel- ler revolves) and proceed to New. York, leaving the route to the discretion of the captain. The ship was accordingly placed in the dry dock, and the alterations ordered were Completed, which made her exclusive- ly a sailing vessel, or “windjammer” in the languago of the forecastle, and then, the captain having decided on the Cape Horn route, she sailed for Honolulu. Before leav- ing the coast of Japan behind us, and when only twelve hours out from Nagasaki. a typhoon was encountered that came near winding up our career. The navigator did not have a sight of the sun for two days and was therefore compelled to ascertain the position of the ship by “dead reckon- in; Through an error, insufficient allow- ance was made for the current, and a point of land that had to be passed’ was shaved by so close a margin that a biscuit could have been tossed ashore without difficulty. In fact, for a few minutes it was a question Whether we would go.on the rocks or not, and if we had not many would have sur. vived on account of the nature of the coast, but, fortunately, by jamming the sails up in the wind as far as possible the old ship finally glided by at a safe distance, much to our relief. We arrived at Hono. lulu without further incident of note, for- ty-one days after leaving Nagasaki, and after: getting in five months’ provisions, fitting some new sails, etc., we started on our long voyage around “the Horn” A Tedious Existence. This portion of the voyage constituted the most tedious and monotonous exist- ence that can be imagined outside of a prison. We were 141 days (nearly five months) making the passage from Hono- lulu to &t. Thomas, W. I, and during that time were entirely without news from the rest of the world, nor did we see the face or hear the voice of a woman or child. Land was not sighted during the voyage and not more than & half dozen ships were seen. Under such circumstances, see- ing the same faces day after day, know ing so thoroughly each other's character- istics, and having nothing new to talk about, men become thoroughly disgusted with each other, ard the best-natured men are irritable and disagreeable. As an in- stance of our lack of news, it may be stated that we did not ascertain who had been elected president at the election early in November unti: the end of March of the next year, nearly a month after he had been inaugurated. During the last three months of the yoy- age potatoes were eliminated from the bill of fare, and a month later soft bread was unobtainable owing to the supply of flour having been issued to the last barrel. The hard bread was in an animated condition, due to the presence of weevils, and the bacon was similarly infested. The men krew, however, that complaints would do no good under the circumstances, as there was no possible means of remedying the conditions without putting into port, and Crossing the Line, While crossing “the line” In the Pacific, sharks were plentiful, the ship being at all times surrounded by them; their position being easily located by the dorsal fin pro- jeeting above the surface of the water, and when anything fell or was thrown over- board they rushed from all directions to- ward the point where the splash occurred, indicating what the fate of any one unfor- tu to fall overboard would be. Tho.offieers amused themselves by shooting them with a rifle, while the men fished for ihem with a hook and the line with his saw-like teeth .der if a woman's v. obtained from the anatomy of the deceased sharks, such as teeth, entire jawbones, and canes, the latter being secured by cleaning and drying the small bones forming the backbone and afterward stringing them on a steel rod. Fishing for Birds. In the vicinity of Cape Horn many alba- trosses were seen, and the fishermen agaia had employment, as it was found that they could be caught with a hook and line, al- though there was considerable opposition to the amusement emong the more super- stitious of the satlo who considered it unlucky to injure an albatross or even to bring one on board, and dire misfortunes were predicted. They are magnificent birds, white as snow, with an immense expanse of wing, capable of sustaining them in th alr for a tong period, and when they tir rest themselves on the surface of the wa ter. They do not approach land except during the breeding season. Although so graceful in the air and on the water, they were found to be extremely awkward when brought on board and placed on the deck. staggering and falling as though intox cated, and evidently seasick. On drawing away from the vicinity of Cape Horn the albatross suddenly disappeared —one day albatrosses suddenly disappeared—one day one was to be seen, vor were any sighted during the remainder of the voyage Summer at the Horn. The cape was round e m of January, being mid-summer in that tude; the month of January south of equator corresponding with July in north- ern latitudes. The temperature was an thing but summerlike, however, the ther- mometer registering In the neighborhood of 40 degrees, which is an uncomforta cold temperature aboard ship, where ev place is exposed to the breeze, with no fires except in the galley, and frequent snow squalls alternating with d foxs were encountered. The hours of daylight we extraordinarily long, as it w light enough to read small print as lat o'clock at night and as eariy in the morning, Cape Horn a ¥ orixble pla ing when as 10 there was gene bow was pointe north toward home, rapidly le ving the stormy cape with its fogs and snow squalls far astern. Up the Coast. Our fassage up the Atlantic coast of South America was slow and vexatious, owing to light winds, head winds and calms, and after getting well across the equator 3 strong and persistent northwest- erly wind effectually bared our further progress, rendering it absolutely necessary to make port owing to the state of our pro- visions. St. Thomas, a Danish possession in the West Indies, was d and the ship was according! headed in that di- rection. Upon dropping anchor in the har- bor of St. Thomas the ship was soon sur- rounded by boats, and one excitable fel- low rushed to the main hatch and shouted “Hello, below there com here's a woman alongside asher- Woman looking for emp! and she Was so exceedingly blac there was no doubt as to the purity of her African descent, but it was the first petticoat we had seen for nearly five months, and she received such an enthusiastic reception from more than four hundred men that she no doubt supposed we were all fit subjects for a lunatic asylum. It required a week for us to become accustomed to the voices of women and children, and for sev- eral days after our arrival at St. Thomas it was rot an unusual sight to see a dozen men rush frantically up the berth deck lad- ce was heard through the hatch. Upon arriving in her vicinity they would stand sheepishly around and gaze at her in an admiring maaner, but the rovelty soc off, After a few in St. Thomas to replenish our austed stock of ‘w York, where w rived eigh later, more than eight months after leaving the Japan, two hundred days of which Spent at nd having coverec of twent » thousand five hu during that time. ABOUT COPRA. Facts Concerning a Large and Peca- Mar Industry of the Ph Copra, which is one of the chief products of the Philippine Islands, is the drie of the cocoanut. The industry, while paratively young, presents some unique features and the production of it, accord- ing to a trade journal, is the outgrowth of attempts made a few years ago to find Some convenient method of exporting the surplus quantity of cocoanut oli produced in the islands. The earthen jars in which the cil arrived at Manila were too easily broken to be transported with any degree of safety. The only available alternative Was a crude form of barrel made in China for the purpose, but these leaked so pro- fusely that they gave very poor results. These difficult: ied to a search for a more corvenient form in which to export the product. It was for the purpose of supplying this need that M. Eduard Vidal taught the natives how to prepare the cocoanut in a dry form such as is known on the market as copra, basing his process upon some experiments which he, together with some planters in the province of Misa- mis, had carried on with considerable suc- cess in the year 1882, As a result of the industry thus esta shed, the exports of this product hav gtown to a very large volume. The method of preparing the copra is a comparatively simple one. When the nut is perfectly ripe it is cut into hulves and placed in the sun without further preparation. In a few Fours the meat of the nut is contracted by the effect of the heat and becomes de- tached from the shell. The morsels of nut kernel are then collected and exposed to the sun for several days, so that all the water which they contain may be evap- orated, care being exercised to guard against moistute and dew, which would soften the material. “When the substance becomes brittle it is considered ready for the market. In ordiaary times it is claimed that a thousand cocoanuts will give, in the prov- ince of Visayas, about 600 to'700 pounds of cepra, but actual experience hardly bears out these claims, the average being from 420 to 490 pounds per thousand cocoanuls. The copra industry during its comparativ. ly short history of fourteen years in the Philippines has attained considerable di- mensions. ———__+ e+ ____ Horses Go Crazy. From the Chicago Chronicle. These leng hot days of southern sun- shine dripping out of the cloudless skies are driving insane the army horses (eth- ered in the treeless camps around Tampa. This is a new difficulty to confront. The army veterinarians say ft is an unusual thing. They say the species of insanity ex- hibited by these horses is attributed to the heat and the sand. All of the horses are not affected in this extraordinary marner. It is only those in the camps on the sand, which have no trees near and no shade whatever. The symptoms of the insanity are rest- lessness, irritability and viciousness. The number of hours of sunshine in @ day here are so many and all these hours the horses are forced to stand where the sunshine pelts them on the back of the head. Then the fine send carried in the air irritates the membranes of the rose, throat and lungs and when the nerves of the poor horse give way he 1s accounted insane. General Wheeler, commanding the cav- alry corps, visited the camps exposed to uninterrupted sunshine and de- cided the only way to prevent the horses of the army from becoming lunatics was to put them in shady places. From Fliegende Blatter. * ee OB ey oe os LJ / gpa I; w SSS SS a al RMI EE « ‘The Rival’s Unkind Treatment. Fi 4 V4 i ? t iy il ve