Evening Star Newspaper, May 29, 1921, Page 57

RISTIDE Pujol started life on' his own account as a chasseur in a Nice cafe—one of those luckless children tightly en-| cased in bottle-green cloth by means of brass buttons, who earn a sketchy livelihood by enduring with cherubic smiles the continuous maledictions of the establishment. Before his days of hunted-little-devildom were over he had acquired sufficient knowledge of English to carry him, a few vears later, through various vicissitudes in England, until. fired by new social ambitions and self-educated in a hap-| . he found himself appoint- ed professor of French in an academy hasard wa for young ladies. If the head mistress of the academy had herself played dragon at his classes, all would have gone well. He would have made his pupils conju- gate irregular verbs. rendered them adepts in the mysteries of the past participle and the subjunctive mood. 4nd turned them out quite innocent of the idiomatic quaintness of the French tongue. But dis aliter visum ‘The gods always saw wrong-headedly otherwize in the case of Aristide. A weak-minded governess—and in a governess a sense of humor and of novelty is always a sign of a weak mind—played dragon during Arstide's lessons. She appreciated his method. whieh was colloquial. The colloquial Aristide was jocular. His lessons therefore were a giggling joy from beginning to end. He imparted to his pupils delicious knowledge. En avez- vous des-s-homards? Oh, les saler Det elles ont du poll Aux pattes. ‘which, being translated, is: “Have you any lobsers? ON, the dirty animals, théy have hair on their feet"—a catch phrase which, some years ago, added greatly to the gayety of Paris. He made (according to his own state- ment) French a living a language. The héad mistress suspected a lack of method in the teaching of M. Pujol, and one day paid his class a sur- prize visit. The sight that met her eyes petrified her. The class, including the gover- | Mess. Bubdbled and gurgled and shriek- ed with laughter. M. Pujol, his brignt eyes agleam with merriment and his| arms moving in_ frantic gestures. danced about the platform. He was tiling them a story—and when Aris- tide told a story he told it with the eloquence of his entire frame. He ‘bent himselt doudle and threw out his|pome. And thén came the hush of death. The rest of the artless man as drunk ‘The head mistre: strode up the room. “M. Pujol. you have a strange way |satin quilts and dainty writing tables and subdued lights, and a great fire madame.” said he, with a|glowed red and cheerful. and before of giving French lessons.” “1 believe, polite bow, “in interesting my pupils in their studies.” “Pupils_have to be taught, not in- terested, some irregular verbs. class through irregular verbs, of which his own knowledge was singu- his dismissal. In vain he argued. Out- must. *x2x \Vt find him, then, one miserable December évening. standing on the arrival platform of Euston station (the scademy was near Manchester), an unwonted statue of dublety. At his| feet lay his meager valise; in his hand was an enormous bouquet, a useful tribute of esteem from his dis- consolate pupil around him lug- a8 én porters and passengers hurried: in front were drawn up the in his pocket rattled the few paltry coins that, for heaven knew how long. were to keep him from starvation. Should he commit the extravagance of taking a taxi or should he go forth, valise in hand, into the pouring rain? He hesitated. “Sacre mille cochons' Quel chien de climat!” he muttered. A smart footman standing by turned quickly and touched his hat. “Beg_pardon, sir; I'm from Mr. Smith.” “I'm xlad to hear it, my friend,” said Aristide. “You're the French gentleman from Manchester " “Decidedly.” said Aristide. “Then. sir. Mr. Smith has sent the motor for you." “That's very kind of him,” said Aris- tide. The footman picked up the valise and darted down the platform. Ari tide followed. The footman held in vitingly open the door of a cozy Jimousine. Aristide paused for fraction of a second. Who was this: spitable Mr. Smith? PO Ran" uald he fo himself. “the best way of finding out is to go and see. He entered the car, sank back luxu- riously on the soft cushions and in haled the warm smell of leather. They started, and soon the peiting rain bea armlessly against the windows. Aris-| ¢ Q;ao laak)odxnul at the streaming |Smth. drinking sherry wtreets. and. hugging himself com- fortably, thanked Providence and Mr | Smith. But who was Mr. Smith? Tiens. thought he. there were two lit- tle Miss Smiths at the academy: h had pitied them because they had chilbiains. freckles and perpetual ¢olds in their heads: possibly this was Zneir kind papa. But. after all. what| 4id it matter whose papa he was” He was expecting him. He had sent the metor for him. The machine stopped at a house in Hampstead. standing. as far as he ould see in the darkness, in its ow! grounds. The footman opened the door for him to alight and escorted him up the front steps A neat par- Jormaid received him in a comfort- ably-furnished hall and took his hat and greatcoat, and magnificent bou- quet. “Mr. Smith hasn't come back yet from the city, sir; but Miss Christa- bel is in the drawing room.” “Ah'" said Aristide. “Please Eive fme back my bouquet.” The maid showed him inte the Wrawing room. A pretty girl of three- mnd-twenty rose from a fender-stool wnd advanced ilingly to meet him. “Good afternoon, M. le Baron. 1 was wondering_ whether Thomas_would wpot you. I'm so glad he did. You see. neither father nor 1 could give him any discription, for we had never seen But ou. ’Thl! fitted in with his theo why Baroa? After all, why not? The English loved tities. “He seems to be an intelligent fel- Sow, mademoiselle There was & span of silence. The ®irl looked at the bouquet, then at Aristide, who looked at the girl. then at the bouquet, then at he girl again. ‘“Mademoiselle.” said he. Aeign to accept these flow. en of my respectful homage” Miss Christabel took the flowers and biushed prettily She had dark hair and eyes and a fascinating, upturned Jittle nose. and the kindest little mouth in the world. “An_ Engiishman wéuld not have thought of that.” she said. Aristide smiled in his roguish way @nd raised a deprecating Band. yes would. But he would mot have had—what you call the creek to do it” aliss Christabel laughed merrily, in- 1full of the most beautiful works of " x it saoul comme un porc” he 'haps you would like to be shown your e about the | carpeted staircases into a bedroom Dlg wae never told. | such as he had never seen in his life indignant majesty, | before. It was all curtains and hang- toilet apparatus was laid on the dress- said the head mistress.|did not appreciate, for he had. sad to ~Will you kindly put the class through | tell, no dress suit) the servant had spread his precious frock coat and 80 for the remainder of the lesson | spare pair of trousers on the bed. On | Aristide, under the freezing eyes of | the pillow lay hix night shirt. neatly the head mistress, put his sorrowful | folded. by these preparations. “it Jarly fnexaet, and At the end recéeived | that T wash myself now and change my clothes. and that 1 sleep here for ramed Minerva was impiacable. Go he | the night. And for all that the ravish- ing Miss Christabel is engaged to her Honorable Harry. this is none the less a corner of Paradise.” best, which included a white tie and a pair of nearly new brown boots—a long task, as he found that his valise had been spirited away and its con- expected firawers and wardrobes—and the hearthru ® | faced Briton, with little pig's eyes and long line of taxis. their drivers g n ; waterproofs glistening with wet: and | oyt 7 TMARNEr attired in a dinner sonage, with outstretched hand. “I'm | delighted to have you here. I've heard 180 much about The|meal began gmayly. The kind Mr. | mot gan to talk of France and to draw pic- which had brought him disaster at the THE KIND MR. SMITH Being One of the Joyous Adventures of Aristide Pujol By W. J. LOCKE Author of “The Beloved Vagabond,” “The Mountebank,” etc. ILLUSTRATED BY C. D. BATCHELOR comforted him with tea and hot muf- fins. The frank charm of his girl- hostess captivated Aristide and drove from his mind the riddie of his ad- venture. Besides, think of the Arabian Nights' enchantment of the change from his lonely and shabby bed-nitting room in the Rusholme road to this fragrant palace. with princess to keep him company' He watched the firelight dancing through her hair. the dainty play of laughter over her face. and decided that the limousine had transported him to Bagdad in- stead of Hampstead. “You have the air of a veritable princess.” said he. “1 wonder what my flance would say if he heard you?" “Your—— "My fianca! There's his photograph on the table beside vou. He is six foot one, and so lous!™ she laughed cried Aristide. his swiftly-conceived romance crumbling nto dust. Then he brightened up ‘But when this six feet of muscle and egotism ix absent, surely other poor mortalg can glean a smil “You will observe that I'm not frowning.” said Miss Christabel. “But ou must not call my fiance a Turk, or he's a very charming fellow whom 1 hope vou'll like very much.” Aristide sighed. “And the name of this thrice-blessed mortal?" o ox | N[ 188 CHRISTABEL told his name — “*% one Harry Ralston—and not only his name. but. such was the peculiar, | childltke charm of Aristide Pujol. alno | many other things ahout him. He was the Hon. Harry Ralston. the heir to A great brewery peerage. and very wealthy. He was a member of parlia- ment. and but for parllamentary dutiex would have dined there that evening: but he was to come in later, as =oon as he could leave the house. He also had a house in Hampshire, art. It was through their common hobby that her father and Harry had first made acquaintance. “We're supposed to have a very fine collection here.” she said, with a mo- tion of her hand. Arintide looked round the walls and saw them hung with pictures in gold frames. She noted his cursory glance. “I thought you were a connoisseur”" “I am.” sald Aristide, his bright eyes fixed on her in frank admiration. She blushed again; but this time she must go and dress for dinner. Per- room?" A servant ushered him up broad, ings and rugs and soft couches and it hung a clean shirt. Hin poor little ing table, and (with a tact which he “Evidently." =aid Aristide, pressed expected So Aristide attired himself in his! tents, including the white tie of cere- mony (he had but one). hidden in un- eventually went downstairs into_the drawing room. There he found Miss Christabel and, warming himseif on a bald-headed. beefy- “My dear fellow.” said this per- you; and my little girl has been singing your pral “Mademoselle is too kind” said Aristide. “You must take us as vou find us,” said Mr. Smith. “We're just ordinary folks. but I can give you a good bottle of wine and a good cigar—it's only in England. you know, that you can get champagne fit to drink and cigars fit to smoke—and 1 can give you a glimpse of a modest English home. 1 believe you haven't a word for it in French.™ Dinner was announced. Aristide gave his arm to Miss Christabel, and proud not only of his partner, but also of his frock coat. white tie and shiny | brewn bnots. strutted into the dining! room. The host sat at the end of the beautifully =et table, hix daughter on hix right, Aristide on his left The Smith was in the best of humors. “And how is our dear old friend, s Dancourt? he asked “Tien said Aristide. tohimself, ‘we have a dear friend Jules Dan- ourt. Wonderfully well” he replied at a venture, “hut he suffers terribly Ltimes from the gout.” o do I. confound it.” said Mr. Ju! ou and the good Jules were al- ways sympathetic,” said Aristide. “Ah! he has spoken to me %6 often about you. the tears in hix eyes.” Men cry. my dear. in France,” Mr mith explained. “They also kiss each other™ “Ah. ma He'™ cr st un beau pays. made- d Aristide. and he ba- tures of hix country whech set the giri's eyes dancing. After that told some of the funny little stories cademy. Mr. Smith. with jovial mag- nanimity, deciared that he was the first Frenchman he had ever met with a sense of humor. * x % % GRUT 1 thought, baron.” said he. “that you lived all your life shut up in that old chateau of yours?" “Tiens!” thought Aristide. “IL am still a baron, and 1 have an old cha- teau.” “Tell us about the chateau. Has it a fosse and a drawbridge and a gothic chap asked Miss Christabel. ‘Which one do you mean?” inquired Aristide, airily. “For I have two." When relating to me this Arabian Night«' adventure, he drew my apecial attenton to his astuteness. His host's eve quivered infa wink. “The one in Languedoc.” said he. Languedoc' Almost Pujol's own country! With entire lack of mor: ity, but with picturesque imagination, Aristide plunged Into a description of that non-existent baronial hall. Fosse, drawbridge. Gothic chapel were but in- significant features. It had tourelles emblazoned gateways, bastions, don jons, barbicans; it had innumerable Tooms: in the salle des chevaliers two Fundred men-at-arms had his ances- tors fed at a sitting. And he kept doga and horses and cows and ducks and hens—and there was a great pond whence frogs wers drawn to be fed for the consumption of the household. Mins Christabel shivered. I sheuld not like to eat frog “They also eat snails.” sald her fathe “I have a small farm.® said Aris- tide. “You never saw such Interesting little animals, They are-sadntalligeat cited him to a seat by the fire, and) ARISTIDE TOOK MISS CHRISTARE| ON HER CHEEK, A STEP OR TWO A If you're kind to them they come and eat out of your hand.” “You've forgotten the plctures,” said Mr. Smith. “Ah' the pictures.” cried Aristide, with a wide sweep of his . “Gal- leries full of them. Raj Michel- angelo, Wierts, Reynolds— He paused, not in order to produce the effect of A dramatic aposiopesis. but because he could not for the mo- mént remember other names of paint- e ‘It isx a truly historical chateau,” sald he. “I whould love to wee it said the girl. Aristide threw out his arms across the table. “It is yours, mademoiselle, for your honeymoon,” said he. Dinner came 10 an end. Mis« Chris- tabel left the gentlemen to théir wine, an excellent port whose English qual- ities were vaunted by the host. Aris- tide. full of food and drink and the mellow gloriex of the castle in Langue- doc, and xmoking an enormous cigar, felt at ease with all the world. He knew he should like the kind Mr. Smith, hospitable though somewhat in- sular man. He could stay with him for a week—or a month--why not a year? After coffee and liqueurs had been served Mr. Smith rose and switched on a powerful electric light at the end of the large room, showftix a picture on an easel covered by a curtain. He beckoned to Aristide to join him, and. drawing the curtain, disclosed the pic- [t ‘There!" said he. “Isn't it a stun- ner?” It wan a picture all gray skies and { gray watér and gray feathery trees, | and a little man in the foréground | wore a red cap. “It i beautiful, but indeed it ia mag- nificent!” cried Aristide, always im- pressionable to things of beauty. “Genulne Corot, isn't it? “Without doubt,” said Aristide. His host poked him in the ribs. * i thought I'd astenish you. You wouldn't believe Gottschalk could have done it. There it is—as large as life and twice aw natural. If you or any one else can tell it from a genuine Corot I'll eat my hat. And all for eight pounds.” ‘Aristide looked at the beefy face and caught a look of cunning In the little | pig’s eye. “Now you are satisfied? asked Mr. Smith. “More than satisfied,” said Aristide, though what he was to be satisfied about passed, for the moment, his com- prehension. “If it was & copy of an existing pic- ture, you know—one might have u; derstood it—that, of course, would he dangerous—but for a man to go and get bits out of varfous Corots and stick them together like this is mi- raculous. If it hadn't been for a mat- ter of business principle I'd have instead of pounds—hanged if I wouldn't! He deserves it “He does, indeed.” id Aristide Pujol = “And now that you've seen it with owr own eyes. what do you think you might ask me for it? 1 suggest- ed something between two and thr thousund—shall we say three? You're | the owner. you know.” Again the process of rib-digging. “Came out of that historic chateau of yours. My eye! you're a holy terror when you begin to talk. You almost persuaded me it was real.” ‘Tiens!" sald Aristide to himself. 1 don’t seem to have a chateau after ‘Certainly three thousand.” said he, with a grave face. “That young man thinks he knows & lot, but he doesn’t.” sald Mr. Smith. “Ah!" said Aristide, with singular laconicism. Not u blooming thing.” continued his host. “But he'll pay three thou- d. which ix the principal. isn't it? partner in the show. you know, ton. Wiggina and Wix's Brew- ery"—Ariatide pricked up his ears— “and when his doddering old father dies he'll be Lord Ranelagh and come into a million of money.” “Has he seen the picture?” asked Aristide. “Oh, yes. Regards It as a master- plece. Didn't Brauneberger tell you of the Lancret we planted on the American?' Mr. Smith rubbed hearty hands at the memory of the iniquity. ume old game. Always ea: 1 have nothing to do with the bargain- ing or the sale. Just an old friend of the ruined French nobleman with the historic chateau and family treas- ures. He comes along and fixes the price. 1 told our friend Harry—" L (200D, the same Honourable Harry, M. P.. who is engaged to thée ravishing Miss Christabel™ *T told him." aid Mr. Smith, “that it might come to three or fous thous |7 | the host. {invention have been mine. chair by the fire. and surrendered faced gentleman with a white mus By wearing the ribhon of the Legion of | Honor in the buttonhole of his avercoat. | Smith, striding up to Aristid, trresponsible friend's jetantlv appreciated the fact th. " thought Aristide. “This is THE SUNDAY STAR. WASHINGTO nd. He jibbed a bit—so when I Tote to you said two or three. But poured himself out a fresh = it off. “Exquisite. my dear fellow. he. “I've none finer in my historic | chateau.” “Don’‘t auppose you have.” grinned | joining” him. He slapped [ home Ihim on the back. “Well” = a he with a shifty look in his little pig’ | eyes, “let {d0 you think would he your fair com | mission” You see, all the trouble and ¥ou say to four hundred pounds?" “Five.” said Aristide. promptiy A sudden gleam came into the little | | Pig eyes. | “Done! said Mr. Smith. who had imagined that the other would de- thousand and was prepared to ht hundred. “Done!" said he mand They shook hands to seal the bar- | gain and drank another of old brandy. At that moment a servant entering. took the host aside “Please excuse me a moment he, and went with the servant of the room. Aristide. left alone, lighted another of his kind host's fat cigars and threw himself into a great leathern arm- himself deliciously 1o t charm of the moment. he laughed, finding ity in his posit soothing Now and then ertain comical n. Smith! His cheerful reflections were soon | disturbed by the sudden his host and a grizzied. clderly, fox “Here. you!" cried the kind M very red face. “Will you kindness to tell me who the de are?” Aristide roge, and. putting his hands behind the tails of his frock- stood smiling radiantly on the hearth- rug. A wit much less alert 1 would ha real Simon Pure had arrived on scene my dear friend” the Baron de Je ne aid he, Plus.” m “You're a confounded imposter,” | spluttered Mr. Smith. “And this gentleman here to whom T/ have not had the pleasure of being | introduced?” asked Aristide, blandly. “I am M. Poiron, monsieur. the agent of Messrs. Brauneberger and “ompagnie. art dealers. of the Rue Notre Dame des Petits Champs of Pariz” waid the newcomer, with an air of deflance. “Ah. I thought you were the baron.” said Aristide. “There’s no blooming baron at all sereamed Mr. Smith. “Are about it you Poiron, or is he?" “I would not have a name like Poi- ron-for anvthing in the world,” said Aristide. My name is Aristide Pujol. soldier of fortune, at your service.’ “How the blazes did you get here? “Your servant asked me if I was a ¥ ench gentleman from Manchester. D. C. MAY He said that sent his motor for 'l:'uhmlxhl try him with three to begin Mr. | with.” Aristide went back to the table and ass of his kind host's 1865 brandy and drank entered the said rdon me. dear ho lis yaining dogs an aid the growing redder 1 you g0 out, or talk business. What |and ug | will you be thrown out rom this snu t and What do | into the welter | 1ess world. puffeq d at his host “that neither thy nor her afiy abls Harry, M that the talented’« the Ho ouid care to know schalk Zuine “You infernal ples than he Honor w And what a| charming father-in-law, this kind Mr. izcuption) of mith moved s hearth rug. sat dow impudence was one of five hundred pound il you I should like to wring your ything you “g0 long as we all swing tog Pujol his narrative, am nothing if not Taw Rriton, took him warmly sheer absen cter and fifte pence in your 29, Smith had hought e and v the irresistible for 1-pound “and 1 guard!” ngenial com- don’t thini more seru- r N ich he is [ CF[OW much will sou take to. g0 + cheek book (% steps from grew apo- uoean’t o Aron And on. who was | urn on one of | “And the | Montpell | ligent man, Mr. do let you in you'll have to sign me a receipt im- If up to the hilt. P'mjeminent put into the cart by koeod cnough to com {opinion on the Poiron how ed -abin to task for 1 sense. dis| ver, as they sometimes did, assumed | a luminous pathos. dear friend,” ou ever faced the worid in a for with no char- n pounds five and three Five hundred Slight Error in Planning the Streets of Washington O1" think that all the numbered | strects of Washington run given the fellow eight guineas! due north and south, hut you are wrong. Some of them do, others do not. Fifteenth street from the Mall to the Boundary and the strects west to Rock ereck slant toward the east. If you doult this you can consult Melville . Haz District surveyor, or Jack_Armstron in Mr. Hazen's office. They kno all about it and either of thoge will hand you the facts as they : set down here, because the facts that follow —that is, the y and simple facts relating to the ward slant of the streets—were told by the District surveyor. North Capitol and South Capitol streets run due north and south or as nearly 80 as astronomical ob- servations, mathematics and the in- struments of precision used in sur- veying can determine. Thers ix no wavering in the course thore streets. They were et down and Iaid out to be north-and-south streets and they are there yet. delivering the ®oods and steadfastly carrying out the purpose of the surveyors who brought them into being and put them on the map. All the streets east of North and South Capitol streets parallel them and are, there- fore, true north-and-south streets. sStreets west of them to and including 14th street are also true north-and- south streets. If they were improved far enough to the north—that is, something more than 52 degrees, or about 3,588 miles—you could walk to the north pole and stand on the tip- top of the world. Part of the way the sidewalk might be covered with snow and the street be slippery with jce, but if you did not weary and give up the job you'd get there. If you should desire to visit friends at the north pole and should go out 16th street to the upper end of the earth you would land 8671 yards or, roughly, four and ten-elevenths miles —?MICIII! five miles—east of the pole. You would probably have to make inquiry of an Eskimo cop or call & taxi ot & 4og team: to reach your friends. Ife instead - of-going north, you Jong part of the your comfort ny of its fellow st the Bastern bri vou could wulk Capitol pa outh Capitol Streets until they came to lay off 15th. measured in deg s the east, slant 8o slight that at the end of a mile the line drawn down the middle of the street three inches farther to the east than the beginning of the line. they, have the five-minute sl The €rror Was recognize called to.the ors and eng fore the removal of the ernment from Potomac, and it District surveyvors ever since. and having no should face about and walk the other you would come amatter of after tramping | bout 8,832 1 On the way and briny k you would find ol you | vou would| all the snow sidewalk and ! ice, but to the south pole, ifi 4 out long enough if you did not tir survevors of Washington nd if South ( t ough ¢ bridges built, | 1t would | and south 1el to of that t the Mall somebody blunder- It was a small blunder, not to be ces, but only in min ne-twelfth o north. w was seven feet Sixteenth other numbered were laid off therefore, tention of the survey rs of Washington be- seat of gov- the Schuylkill to the has been known by and some others The error. being so small marked effect on streets even though opened to the northwest boundary of the District, has not been corrected. 16th and other streets morth of the boundary the error has been con- In projecting 1921—PART 4 And to be g r much parleving. was farious | give” said the young man with & rot throuxh their had mentioned it al- baron, who over and dis- house, and, on . was to be the | for uld be the eminent Par said Aristide, ck to his hotel when the 1 M. Poiron, who ippenled to h unreasonable 'n has been tele- g And there are'a stels in London.' vous chan- not going to 1oy our | et the door opened and with a litl “I beg vour pard wreathed it- Poiron, & who has l,::,';x,m Arab, sent by his uncle, gave him and give us his d Aristide, | de advanced. indulgently and turned n here for the last half-hour Bring him in r child, bring him of the fine old F “Our good friend sred out of the room their heads together in a stabel returned, with her came the Hon. Harry Ral- hair ‘and a fair mustache, . even in parliament. had seen no 1t is one now. | ginning of Corot's later manner—it 1 just by lending one- which didn't hurt | when he was quite an old Do aritian | came a trick: If you wers 43 B% . with a fine|up to auction at Chris is 1864. There is the mystery which, 1o it ® it ’::)’.\I.IA fetch. 1 am sure, £5.000. “That's more than I can afford to laugh. “Mr. Smith mentioned some- thing between three and four thou- id pounds. 1 don’t think 1 can Ko ove three.” have nothing to do with it. my dear boy. nothing whatever.” said Mr. Smith, Tubbing his hands. “You want- ed a Corot. I said I thought I could put you on to one. 1t's for the Baron here to mention his prica, X retire now and for ever. “Well. Baron?" said the young man, cheerfuily. “What's your idea?” Aristide came forward and resumed his place at the end of the table. The picture was in front of him beneath the strong electric light; on his left stood Mr. Smith and Poiron, on his Tisht Miss Christabel and the Hon. Ty 11l not take three thousand pounds it." said Aristides “A.picturelike that! Never! “l assure you it would de &-Falr price.” said Poiron. “You mentioned that figure vourself only just now.” said Mr. Smith, with an ugly glittef in his little pig's eyes. ‘L presume, gentlemen,” said Aris- tide, “that this picture is my own property” He turned engagingly to n “Is it not, cher ami>" ourse it is. Who said it sn't? nd you, M. Poiron, acknowledge formally that it is mine” he said, in French. “Sans aucun doute.” “Eh bien,” said Aristide, throwing open his arms and gazing round sweetly. “I have changed my mind. 1 do not sell the picture at all.” “Not sell it? What the—what do vou mean?” asked Mr. Smith, striv- | ing to meilow the gathering thunder on his brow. “I do not sell.” said Aristide. *Tis- ten, my dear friends:” He was in the seventh heaven of happiness—the principal man, the star, taking the center of fhe stage. I have an an-| nouncement to make to you. T hav fallen desperately in love with made- | moiselle.” * * * % ] [ TIFRE was a general gasp. i | i Smith looked at him, red-faced and open-mouthed. Miss Christabel blushed furiously and emitted a sound half between a laugh and a scream. Harry Ralston’s eves flashed “My dear sir- he began. [N e e ——— e L “Pardon,” said Aristide. disarming Btm with the merry splendor of his glance. “1 do not wish to take made- moiselle from you. My love is hopr- less! I know it. But it will fred to my dving day. In return for th Joy of this hopeless passion 1 wi Dot sell you the picture -1 give it 1o you as a wedding present” “He stood, with the air of a hero both arms extended toward ihe amazed pair of lover aid he, Tt s sh but for your happine In my eau de M- reilles there are a hundred others “This is madness™ said Mr. Sm bursting with suppressed ind gna 50 that his bald hea “My dear fellow Raiston. "It is unheard-of grnerosity on your part. But wp can’'t accept i “Then,” said Aristide. advanc dramatically to the picture, “1 take under my arm, I put it in a hapson cab, and I go with it back to langue- doc: Mr. Smith caught him by the wrist and dragzed 1t of the room “You little Do you want your neck broken = said Mr. Harrs “Do you want the marriage of you rich and 1 i Arist daughter with norab Harry broken™ “Oh. damn' O} Oh, da eried Mr. Smith, ping about h lessly and ha Ping Aristide ente dining roow beamed on the company “The kind Mr. Smith has consented Mr. Honorable Harry and Miss Chris tabel, there is your Corot. And now. may 1 be pern a He rang the bell. A servant entered Some champagne 1o drink to th health of the fi of champag er Mr. Smith looked at him almost ad- miringly. 2 “By Jove™ he muttered. *You have o said Aristide, when he had finished the stor “And did they accept the Coro: asked “Of course. It iz hansging now in the big house in Hampshire. 1 staved with the kind Mr. Smith for weeks.” he added. doubling him up in his chair and hugging hims with mirth, “and we became v ®ood friends. And T was at the w ding " “And what about their honeymo visit to_Langucdoc” “Alas'™ maid Aristide. “The morn ing before the wedding T had a tel gram—it was from my old father at Aigues-Mortes—to tell me that (he historic Chateau de Mireilles, with mv priceless collection of pictures, ha. been burned to the ground.’ (Copyright John Lane Company. ) THE DROMEDARY By J-H.Rosny —— — Translated From the French by WILLIAM L. McPHERSON. HEN Robert Javarre, at twenty-five, had equan- dered his inheritance he realized that he had acted like a fool and humbly betook him- <elf to his Uncle Ambrose, who was on the Mediterranean near Nice. The uncle, having increased his fortune ten times in Egypt and India, was now a millionaire. He listened to his nephew without sur- prise or astonishment and said. “I am one of those who concede that a person may ruin himself—on condition that he doesn't become a charge on others. voung man of twenty-five who once had & quarter of a million and who counts on his family supporting him is an ignora- mus.” He fumbled in a box of Manila ci- gars, poured himself out a little-drink and continued: ison claims that a man who goes broke and who can't within a quarter of an hour discover some means of getting on his feet again is an incurable idiot. 1 don’t go as far as that. And I want to aid you in a modest way to get a fresh start. Let me think it over.” Two days later the uncle sent for the nephew. “I have found something for you to do.” he said. “And what 1 have found ought to demonstrate that you aren’t handicapped by any foolish left-over prejudices, but have the makings of a real man in you. I bought a drome- dary from a disbanded circus. I have rented a stable for it and a sleeping room for you. In addition 1 have obtained the permits you will need and 1 will give you 500 francs in cash. The future opens before you— vaster than the Pacific ocean.” “That goes” replied Robert pro- fundly dizappointed, but nevertheless amused. “I shall set out on a drome- dary.” * x % "[HAT same evening he found him- self ip company with the animal, whose biblical profile interested him, but who seemed prodigiously stupid a few lessons in camel driving. Thereafter Nice saw appear each morning and afternoon a dromedary led by a young ma nof prepossessing manners. The humped animal car- ried on his flanks placards on which one could read in gigantic letters: “Excursions and promenades.” Two Bolivians were the first excur- sionists. The dromedary carried them {10 Villafranche and back. In spite of the pitch peculiar to the “ship of the desert.”” they declared themselves satisfled with the trip and proved it by offering the driver a good sized tip. Their example influenced the Chileans, the Argentinians and the Brazllial and then the Yankees, the English and the Russians. Presently Robert had a mob of pa- trons who paid generously. Some days he made as much as forty francs. Since he led an existence as frugal as the camelold’s, he saved money rapidly. At the end of two years he had put by 12,700 francs. Thereafter he began to make plans in which the beast with the biblical profile ceased to figure. Neverthe- Jess. he decided to follow his pro- fession a little while longer—the rdone intro- of the dining : at the masterpiece. when one's le Baron,” “that your ght this di- respeeted g rect from Corot a patron of Corot.” it, dear?” asked the replied the girl, fervent- 1 feel like Harry to Aristide. ily in earnest when you said me to come and see id_Aristide, “it would visit of enchantment.” then S he “The barom has whispered to Harry. been telling us about his lovelygld monsieur?” “Since I'm going to rob you of your the young man, smiling courtesy, “the least I can do to pay vou a visit of apology. /" said he, going up to the Corot. ristabel, now more bewitching than ever with the glow of voung love in her eyes and a flush on her cheek, a step or two aside and whispered: charming. your fiance! rves his good for- took Miss C almost?" she laughed shyly. “Jt is not a man. but a demi-god, would deserve you, M. Poiron's harsh volca broke out. “You sce i is painted in the Pe- | more so since he had acquired two very assiduous patrons. They were the wife and daughter of a lumber king. & citizen of the United States, who owned forests covering an erea as large as several French departments. The mother, a lady past middle age, showed great interest in Javarre's personality and conversation. She asked him ‘many Questions and_ended by declaring: “You weren't born to be a camel driver.” “Do you think S0 he answered. «One is born predestined to be what he is and what he will be.” He didn’t hesitate, however, to tell them his story, which seemed to amuse them. = “You ought to go to America.” said the mother. “Isn’t that go, Corisande? He would make a good deal of money in_America. ‘Corisande smiled and blpahed. Her face had the tint of white ross= Her eyes were almost the color of the Mediterranean under the noonday sun. Nothing could have been more appe- tizing tAn her red lips and glitter- ing_whité teeth. ““He would,” she replied gravely in her crystalline voice. They came back many times, and Robert began to feel some embarrass- ment in Corisande’s presence. He de- cided to sell the dromedary and quit Nice. * %k % % A’ MAN who dealt in horses and mules offered to dispose of the beast on a modest commission. Some days passed. One morning Robert's uncle invited him to break- fast. Drinking their coffee in the garden under the palm trees, with a view to the right over the sea, the uncle announced: “If you had been an imbecile what you would have got from me would hardly have made a dog's meal. 1 should have drawn a will to keep you from ever seeing the color of my money. But since you have faced yqur, situation with courage and in- l\lcnl Woman's Foundation. the telligence, you shall have your re- ward” The uncle bit off the end of a cigar. grinned and continued: “I bought the camel which you put up for sale. I said to myself that since it had brought vou luck it might also bring you happiness. The hour has struck. Look there:” The camel appeared, in a setting en- tirely natural to it, betwecn two spreading palms. Robert was even more astaundsd when he saw the silvery-voiced Cori- sande mounted on the “ship of the desert.” “You see, you see,” said the unle with a laugh. “It carries your ktg- piness. You have only to say €)ie word and You can enter the -mrrp matrimony —and not with e hands, either. I tell you that, boy. obert hurried off to help Corisagye dismount. Then they disappeared $p- gether in the palm grove, which tkat day concealed all the gifts of the fairies and of the masters of enchant- ment. Robert's heart beat fast. He asked himself half despairingly whether his uncle hadn’t been deceived. Finally looking straight into his companion's sparkling eyes, he murmured: “Perhaps you know, Miss Corisande. that I love you. And aithough I am unworthy of you—-" The young girl's face flushed. “Why ehould you be unworthy” she exclaimed. “In America we love self-made men.” “Then?” he said, in a suppllcating voice. She laughed and pointed to the dromedary, standing motionless under the palm’ trees. “I have dreamed for a long time of making a visit to Egypt. It is he who wilk carry us to the pyramids.” Famous Trees on the Dean Estate IT was that brotherhood of venerable trees on the Dean estate that was the inspiration of the National Wom an’s Foundation. Those tall ances tral oaks, hundreds of years of age. were doomed to become the victims of commercial building had not the women purchased the tract. The king of them all, a giant oak, its age reckoned at 900 years, 1s called the Treaty oak. This tree seems destined to be intimately as sociated with the race of women. A legend clings about this old cak that has to do with women. During the wild and dangerous pioneer davs a marauding band of Indians cap- tured the young wife of one of the early settlers and carried her off to their camp. The pioneers made it 80 hot for the Indians that, after a year of determined warfare on th@ part of the palefaces, the Indian® agreed to come to terms. l'nder the great boughs of this big oak, ancient even in that day, as time is counted by man, on the brow of a hill in the Dean estate, the young wife was delivered to her husband and a trea of peace was consummated with th Indians. Since that day the tree has been called the Treaty oak, and Rbout the hoary branches of the tree the curling smoke of the peace pipes seems to cling. That is the story. Just the other day another paper was signed bencath the great Treaty oak that intimately concerns wom en. ‘The articles of incorporation the XNational Woman's Foundation were signed by the thirty-one women who were imbued with the purpos of making this spot the Mecca for women from all over the United States. “A tree like this." said the president. of ‘the incorporators, Mrs. Clarence Crittenden Calboun, “is one of the most beautiful things in the world, and I never look at onec hout thinking of these lines of Joyce Kil- mer: “‘Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make & tree "We have mot only this magnificent monarch of the forest, but all iis splendid companions, and it is our privilege to keep them intact as a sort of mnational park for our be- loved city. We are now a part of th owners of these grounds, with th trees and beautiful rolling hills, a bit of country in the heart of the city Nearly one million dollars was th purchase price of the Dean tract. | is proposed that a group of buildings be put up on the land in a way that will not interfere with the trees. These buildings whl provide national headquarters for all women's orgun- izations and will become a great clearing house of information for all women's activities in the entire na- tion. “It is not our purpose.” said Mrs. Calhoun, “to try to direct the mi- tics of any of the members of tr. foundaton, but as a body politic s give to the women of both parties the opportunity to study their re- spective platforms and realize just what they have before them now that they have taken up the duties of We can co-operate with the leaders of the different parties in the be: way. It ix said that the sclence of government has not been altered in the last two thousand yoars. Women must study that science and perhaps we can assi in reorganizing a disorganized world. We must study Americanism and trv to bring back the old, simple stand- ards and the high ideas and stand with a solid front against the in- sidious propaganda which is endea oring to disintegrate us." citizenshir