Evening Star Newspaper, April 19, 1925, Page 74

ARCHIE, ART CONNOISSEUR BY.P. G. WODEHOUSE. HE Summer morning was so brilliantly fine, the populace popped to and fro in so active and cheery a manner and everybody appeared to be so absolutely in the pink that a casu observer of the ew York would have was one of those appy da 3 Archie Mof- fam, as he turned out of the sun- bathed street into the ram-shackle building on the third floor of which was the studio belonging to his artist friend, James B. Wheeler, was faintly oppressed with a sort of a kind of feeling that something was wrong. He would not have gone so far as to say that he had the plp—it was more a vague sense of discomfort. And, searching for first causes as he made his way up-stalrs, he came to the con clusion that the person responsible for this nebulous depression was his wife, ille. It seemed to Archie that, at fast that morning, Lucille’s man- d been subtly rummy thus, he reached the studio, the room empty. The stu had seen the last of J. B. Wheeler that day: but Archie, not realizing and feeling that a chat with Mr. Wheeler who was 3 ht-hearted bird, was what he needed, sat down to wait. After a few moments, his gaze, straving over the room, en- countered @ handsomely framed pic- re, and he went cross to take a look at it J. B. Wheeler made a large annual fllustrator for the m azines, and it was a surprise to Archie to find that he also went in for this kind of thing. For the picture, dashingly painted in oils, represented a comfortably plump voung woman who was plainly in- tended to be the goddess Venus. Archie was not much of a nib round the picture galleries, but he knew enough about art to recognize Venus when he saw her; though once or , it is true, artists had double- by ringing in some such as “Day-Dreams” or ‘“When The Heart Is Young. He inspected this ture for a while. then, returning to his seat, lighte rette and began to medi- tate on Lucille once more. Yes; the dear girl had been rummy at break fast. There had been in Lucille’ manner that curious. strained sweet- ness which comes to women whose husbands have failed to match the | piece of silk or forgotten to post an important letter. If his conscience had not been as clear as crystal, Archie would have said that that was what must have been the matter was an artist who income as an pi Artless Conduct Marks His Attempt to Please the Family. —he, on the prudish plea that he was a married man with a local reputation | to keep up, declining at first to be seen in company with the master piece. | ise to keep the front of the picture away from the public gaze, he con. sented to take the job on, and, some ten ‘minutes later, having made his | way blushfully through the hotel | lobby, Archie entered his suite, the | picture under his arm. He placed it carefully against the wall in order to leave himself more scope for embracing Lucille, and when the joyful reunfon was concluded, h stepped forward to turn it round and exhibit it. “Why, it's enormous!” said Lucille. “I didn't know Mr. Wheeler ever painted plctures that size. When you said it was one of his, I thought it must be the original of a magazine drawing or something like—O! Archie had moved back and given her an uninterrupted view of the work of art, and Lucille had started as if some unkindly disposed person had driven a brad-awl into her. “‘Pretty ripe—what?” said Archie enthusiastically. Lucille did not speak for a moment. It may have been sudden joy that kept her silent. Or. on the other hand, it may not. She stood looking at the picture with wide eves parted lips. “A bird, eh?” sald Archie. “Y-yes,” said Lucille. “I knew you'd like it,” proceeded Archie, with animation. “Phone down to the office, light of my soul, and tell them to send up a nail, a bit of string and the hotel ham- mer."” “One moment, quite sure—-"" “Eh?" ““Where { You see——" “‘Over the piano, vou said. jolly old piano.” “Yes, but I hadn't seen.it then.” A monstrous suspicion flitted for an instant into Archie’s mind “I say it, don't you?" he said, “Oh, darling. I'm not ought to hang, 1 mean. The Archie, darling, of course I ! And it was so sweet of vou to give it to me. But, what I was trying to say was that this picture is so so striking, that I feel that we ought to walt a little while and decide where it would have the best effect. The light over the piano is rather strong.’ “You think it ought to hang in a dimmish light—what?" “Yes, ves. The dimmer the mean, in a dim light. Suppose But when Lucille wrote letters, she just stepped out of the suite and drop- | ped them in the mail-chute attached to the elevator. It couldn’t he that And he couldn't have forgotten any- thing else, ause- “0 my inted aunt! Archie’s cigarette smoldered, lected, between his fingers. His jaw had fallen. and his eyes were staring glassily before him. His memory was | weak, he knew: but never before had it let him down so scurvily as this. This was a record. For a man may forget many things—he forget name, his umbrella, his national . his spats, and the friends of his vouth: but there is one thing which your married man. your in-sickness- and-in-health lizard, w i not f and that is the anniver wedding-day. RrEvons wave. No neg- swept over Archie Jike a His heart bled for Lucille. wonder the poor girl had been rummy at breakfast! - He groaned hollowly and sagged forlornly in his chair, he did so the Venus | aught e. For it was an eye catching picture. You might like it or dislike it, but you could not ignore 1t Archie had the whole binge neatly worked out inside a minute. He scrib- bled 2 note.to Mr. Wheeler, explain ing the situation, and promising rea sonable payment on the Timent system: then, placing the note in a conspicuous position on the easel, he feaped to the telephone—and present. | 1y found himself connected with Lu-| cille’s room at the Cosmopolis. “Hullo, darling!” he cooed. There was n slight se other end of the wire “Oh, hullo, Archle Lucille’s voice was dull and list and Archie’s experienced ear could de- tect that she had been crying. | “Many happy returns of the day, old thing!” A muflled wire. “Have you only just remembered?” Archie, bracing himself up, gleefully into the receiver. “Did T take vou in, light of m) home? Do you mean to say you reall thought T had forgotten? For hea en’s sake!' “You didn't say fast “Ah, but that was devilish cunning ent for you then know whether it Oh, Archie v Lucille’ e had lost its crushed melancholy e trilled like a thrush. or a linnet, bird that goes in largely for “Have you really got me a present?” “It's here now—the dickens of a picture. One of'J. B. Wheeler's You'll like it.” “Oh, I know I shalll work. You are an angel. it over the piano. “T'll be round with it in something under three ticks, star of my soul. TNl take a taxi It is not far from Washington uare to the Hotel Cosmopolis, and Archie made the journey without mis- hap. There was a little unpleasant- at the sob floated over the | | a word at break-| 1 part of the| I hadn't got a pres. | T didn't | things. I love his We'll hang | pa | shortly. | thought it a | we leave it in the corner for the mo- | there — behind ment—over and—T'll think it oy Right-o!- Here? es, that will do splendidly. and Archie?” Hullo!” I think perhaps face to the wall, will y the sofa, v Oh— Just turn its u Lucille g | gave a little gulp. “It Will prevent its | his getting dusty T perplexed hie -a little during the next few days to notice i Lu cille, whom he had always looked on as pre-eminently a girl who knew her own mind, a curious streak of vacilla- tion. He suggested various spots on the wall as suitable for but Lucille seemed unable to decide. Archie wished that she would settle on something definite, for he wanted to invite J. B. Wheeler to the suite to see the thing. One morning, en- countering him on Broadway. he e pressed his appreciation of the ver decent manner in which the other had taken the whole affair. “Oh. that!"” said J. B. Wheele dear fellow, you're welcome.” sed for a moment. ‘More than welcome,” he added. “You much of an expert on pictures, you My are ell.” said Archie, “I don’t know that vou'd call me an absoiute nib, don’t you know, but, of course, I know enough’ to see that this particular exhibit is not a little fruity. Absc lutely one of the best things you've ever done, laddie?” Mr. Wheeler's eyes bulged. ‘hat are you talking about. you Tishbite? Are you under the impres- sion that I painted that thing?" “Didn’t you?” Mr. Wheeler swallowed a little con vulsively My fiancee painted it,” he sai “Your fiancee? My dear old-lad, T didn't know you were engaged. Who is she? Do T know her?” “Her name is Alice Wigmore don't know her. And she painted perturbed. be apt to the thing has got to’ “I told her it had been stolen. She great compliment, and was tickled to death. So that’s all right.” “And, of course, she'll paint you an- other.” “Not while T have my strength she won't,” sald J. B. Wheeler firmly. “She’s given up painting since taught her golf.” “But, laddie,” said Archie, puzzled, “you talk as though there were some: thing wrong with | the picture., I thought is dashed hot stuff.” % You that, picture?” “But, I say! wonder where ness with the cabman before starting ARCHIE WAS A MAN OF AC- TION. . . . THE MISCREANT COLLAPSED UNDER HIM WITH A SQUASHY UND, AND AR- CHIE, TAKING A FIRM SEAT ON HIS SPINE, RUBBED THE OTHER'S FACE IN THE CAR- PE But, on Archie giving a prom- | and | p il the Venus, | He | aren’t | i | “Bless you!" said J. B. Wheeler. At breakfast next morning Archie | once more brought up the question | of the hanging of the picture. “Touching the jolly old master-| | plece.” he ‘said, *how about {t? I think it's time we holsted it up some- where.” | Lucille fiddled pensively with her | | coffee spoon e . she said, “I've been thinking. | “And a very good thing to do," | Archie. “About that picture, | you know it | tomorrow?” A “Why, no, old thing. T didn't, to be absolutely honest. Your revered pa- | rent doesn’t confide in me much.” “Well, it is. And I think we ought to give him a present.” “Absolutely! But how? I'm all for spreading sweetness and light and cheering up the jolly old pater’s sor- rowful existence, but I haven't a bean. And, what is more, things have come to such a pass that T an the horizon iwithout seelng a single soul I can touch. I suppose I | could get into Reggie van Tuyl's ribs | for & bit, but—T don't know—touch | ing poor old Reggie alwavs seems to | me rather like potting a sitting bird.” “Of course I don’t want you to do | anything like that. T was thinking- Archie, darling, would you be very hurt if I'gave father the picture?” Archie. had always thought Lucille the dearest and most unselfish angel in the world, but never had the fact come home to him so forcibly as now. He kissed her fondly. ' “By Jove!" he exclaimed. ‘“You really are, vou know! This is the biggest thing since jolly old Sir Philip What's-hisname gave the drink of water to the poor blighter whose need was greater than his, if you recall the incident. Well, of course, it's up to you, queen of my soul. If you feel llke making ‘the sacrifice, Tight-o! Shall 1 bring the pater up here and ow him the picture? Xo; 1 wouldn't do that. Do you u could get into his suite to- | morrow 1orning and hang it up | | somewhere? You see, if he had the chance of—what I mean is, if—yes: I think it would be best to hang it up and let him discover it there.” “It would give him a surp; said I mean. Did was father's birthday e, vou | | ile sighed inaudibly. She was |a girl with a conscience, and that | conscience was troubling her a.little. | She agreed with Archie that the dis- covery of the Wigmore Venus in his artistically furnished suite would | give Mr. Brewster a surprise. | * fAR«'nu-: whistled merrily on the | | following morning as, h:nu\u" driven a nail into his father-indaw’s | wall paper, he adjusted the cord | from which the Wigmore Venus was | suspended. He had just completed | work and was stepping cautiously | down when a voice behind him nearly 1sed him to overbals What the mischief Archie turned beaming “Hullo, old thing! Man: { turns of the day!” | Mr. Brewster W frozen attitude. “What—what—" he gurgled. He stared at- the Venus dumbly. ke most hotel proprietors, Daniel Brewster was a connolsseur of art. Even the public rooms of the Cosmo. polis were decorated with taste, and | his own private suite was a shrine of all that was best and most artistic. His tastes were quiet and restrained | and is not too much to say that | | the. Wigmore Venus hit him behind {the ear like a stuffed eelskin. “It's a_birthday present from Lu- cille. don’t you know.” | “Lucille gave me—that?" | tered. | | happy re- | as standing in a he mut | He swallowed pathetically. He was | | suffering, but the iron courage of the | | Brewsters stood him in good stead. | Presently the rigidity of his face re- | |laxed. He was himself again. Of all | {things in the world, he loved his | daughter most, and, if, in whatever | mood of temporary insanity she had | wrought herself to suppose that this beastly daub was the sort of thing | | he would like'for a birthday present, | he must accept the situation like man. He would, on the whole, have | preferred death to a life lived in the society of the Wigmore Venus, but even that'torment must be endured |1f the alternative was the hurting of Lucille's feelings. | " Archie was not a man who readily | allowed himself to become worried, especially about people who were not {in his own immediate circle of friends, but, in the course of the next | weelk he was bound fo admit that he | was not, altogether easy in his mind about his father-in-law’s mental con- dition. He had read all sorts of things in the Sunday papers and else- where about the constant strain to which captains of industry are sub- jected,” a strain, which, soomer or later, is only vietim go all too apt to make the blooey, and it seemed to him that Mr. Brewster was be- ginning to find the going a trifle too tough for his stamina. Unde- niably he was behaving in an odd manner, and Archie, though no phy- sician was aware that when the merican business man—that rest ever-active human machine— tarts behaving in an odd manner, the next thing you know is that two strong men, one attached to each arm, are hurrying him into the cab bound for Bloomingdale. He did not confide his misgivings to Lucijle, not wishing to cause her anxiety. Ie hunted up Reggie van Tuyl at the club aund sought advice from him. < “I say, Reggie, old thing, present company excepted, have there been any loonies in your family?" Reggle stirred in the slumber which always gripped him in the early afternoon. **‘Loonies?” ” he mumbled sleepily. “Rather! My Uncle Edgar thought he was twins “ “Twins,’ eh?’ “Yes. Silly idea! I mean, you'd have thought one of my Uncle Edgar would have been enough for any man."” “How did the thing start?” chie. Start? Well, the first thing we noticed was when he began wanting two of everything. Had to set two places for him at dinner and so on. Always wanted’ two seats at the theater. Ran into money, I can tell you.” bt “He didn’t behave rummily up’till then “Not that I remember. Why?" Archie’s tone became grave. “Well, I'll tell you, old man, though I don't want it to go any farther, that T'm a bit worried about my jolly old father-in-law. T belfeve he's about to €0 in off the deep end. Dashed weird his behavior has been the last few asked A murmured Mr. van Tuyl. “Well, the other morning I hap- pened to be in his suite—incidentally he wouldn't go above ten dollars, and I wanted twenty-five—and he sud denly picked up a whacking big was worth."” Not ‘at me. That was the rummy part of it. At a mosquito on the wall, he said. Well, T mean to say, do chappies bung paper-weights at mosquitoes? 1 mean, is it done?” mash anything?” uriously ~enough, no. But he only just missed a rather decent pic- ture which Luciile had given him for his birthda ounds queer.” And, talking of looked in on him about a couple of afternoons later, and he'd taken it down from the fall and laid it on the floor and was staring at it in & dashed marked sort of manner. That was_pecullar—what?” ‘On the floor? that picture, I When I s goggling at it in a | Absolutely rapt, | way. My coming-in gave him art—seemed to rouse from a kind of trance, you know— and he jumped like an antelope, and, if T hadn’t happened to grab him, he | would have trampled on the thing. It was you know. His manner was rummy. He seemed to be brooding on some. thing. What ought I to do about it, do vou think? It's not my affair, of course, but it seems ‘to me that, if he goes on like this, one of these days he'll be stabbing some one with a picklefork. * ’I‘o Archje’'s relief, his father-in- law's symptoms showed no signs of development. reverted bang to_the normal once in the lobby of the hotel, he seemed quite cheerful. he wasted his time talking to his son- inlaw, but, on this occasion, he chatted with him for several minutes about the big picture-robbery which had formed the chief item of news on the front pages of the morning papers that day. It was Mr. Brew- ster's opinion that the outrage had i beert the work of a gang, and that nobody was safe. Daniel Brewster had spoken of this matter with a strange earnestness. but his. words had slipped from Archie’s mind when he made his way that night to his father-in-law’s suite. Archie was-in an exalted mood. In the course of dinner he had had a bit of good news which was occupying his- thoughts to the exclusion of all other matters. It had left him in a eomfortable, if rather dizzy condition of benevolence to all created things. paper-weight and bunged it for all he | him | deuced unpleasant, | In fact, his manner | more, | and, a few days later, meeting Archie | It was not often that | He fouhd the door of the Brewster suite unlocked, which at any other time would have struck him as un usual, but tonight he was in no frame of mind to notice these trivialities He went in, and, finding the room dark and no one at home, sat down, too absorbed in his thoughts to switch ‘on the lights, and gave himself up to dreamy meditation. ‘Chere ‘are certain moods in which one loses count of time, and Archie could not hayve said how long he had been sitting in the deep armehair near the window when he first became aware that he Was not alone in the room. Ife had closed his eyes, the better to meditate, so had not seen any one enter. Nor had he heard the door »pen. The first intimation he had that somebody had come in was when some hard substance knocked against some | other hard object, producing a sharp sound, which brought him back to | earth ‘with a jerk | He sat up silently. The fact that | the room was still in darkness made | it cbvious that something nefarious | us afoot. He stared into the black s, and as his eyes grew accustomed | to it was presently able to see an in- | distinct form bending over something | on the floor. The sound of rather stentorious breathing came from him. Archie had many defects, but lack of courage was not one of them. Archie was a man of action, and he was out of his chair and salling in the direction of the back of the intruder's neck before a wiser man would have completed his plan of campaign. The miscreant collapsed under him with a squashy sound, like the wind going out of a pair of bellows, and Archie, taking a firm seat on his spine, rubbed the other’s face in the carpet and awalted the progress of events. At the end of half a minute it be- came apparent that there was going to be no counter attack. The dashing swiftness of the assault had appar. ently had the effect of depriving the | marauder of his entire stock of breath. He was gurgling to himself in a pained sort of way and making no effort to {rise. Archie, feeling that it would be | | safe to get up and switch on the light, | |did so, and, turning after completing | this maneuver, was greeted by the | | spectacie of his father-in-law seated on the floor in a breathless and dishev- | | eled condition, blinking at the sudden |illumination. "On the carpet beside | Mr. Brewster lay a long knife, and beside the knife lay the handsomely framed masterpiece of J. B. Wheeler's | flancee, Miss Alice Wigmore. Archie stared at this collection dumbly “Oh, what length, feebly. A distinct chill manifested itself in the reglon of Archie's spine. This| could mean only one thing. His fears | had been realized. The strain of mod- | ern life with all its hustle and excite ment_had at last proved too much for Mr. Brewster. Crushed by the thou and and one anxlefies and worries of a millionaire’s existence, Daniel Brew ster had gone off his onion * % *x ho RCHIE was nonplused. This was his first experience of this kind of thing. What, he asked himself, was the proper procedure in a situa tion of this sort? What was the local rule? Where, in a word, did he go from here? He was still musing in an embarrassed and baffled way, hav- ing en the precaution of kicking the knife under the sofa, when Mr. Brewster spoke. And there was in both the words and the method of their delivery so much of his old fa- miliar self that Archie felt quite re. lieved. ““So, it's you—Is {t?—you wretched | blight, you miserable weed!” said Mr. Brewster, having recovered enough | breath to go on with. *I might have | expected it. If I was at the North | Pole, T could count on you butting in. “Shall I get you a drink of water? demanded Mr. imagine I want Brewster, with a Well" — Archie hesitated delicately ‘I had a sort of idea that you had | been feeling the train a bit. "1 mean |to say, rush of modern life and all that sort of thing—" “What are you doing in my room?” | said Mr. Brewster, changing the sub- ject. “Well, T came to tell you something, and I came in here and was waiting N .m”[l,y for you, and I saw some chappie biffing about in the dark, and I thought it was a burglar or some- thing after some of your things; so, thinking it over, I got the idea that | it would be a fairly juicy scheme to land on him with both feet. No idea it ‘was you, old thing. Frightfully sorry and all that. Meant well.” Mr. Brewster sighed deeply. He was a just man, and he could not but realize that, in the circumstances, Archie had behaved not unnaturally. “Oh, well,” he sighed, “I might have known something would go wrong.” wully sorry! t can’t be helped. What was it you wanted to tell me?” He eved his son-inlaw plercing “Not a cent over twenty dollars,” he ‘said coldly. Archie hastened to dispel the par- donable error. “Oh, it wasn't anything like that,” he said. “T was dining with Lucille just now, and, as we dallied with the foodstuffs, she told me something which—well, T'm bound to say it made me feel con- siderably braced. She told me to trot along and ask if you would mind— gave Lucille a hundred dollars only last Tuesday.” Archie was pained. ‘Adjust this sordid outlook, old thing,” he urged. “You simply aren’t anywhere near it. What Lucille told me to ask you was if you would mind at some tolerably near date being a grandfather. Rotten thing to be, of course,’ proceeded Archie commis- eratingly, “for a chappie of your age, but there it is!” Mr. Brewster gulped. SHE STOOD LOOKING AT THE PICTURE WITH WIDE AND PARTED LIPS i “Do you mean to say- “I mean, apt to make a fellow feel a bit of a patriarch. Snowy hair and whatnot. And, of course, for a chap- pie in the prime of life like you—-" A curious change had come over Mr. Brewster. He was one of those men who have the appearance of having been hewn out of the solid rock, but now, in some indescribable way, he seemed to have melted. For a mo- ment, he gazed at Archie, then, mov- ing quickly forward, he grasped his hand in an iron grip. Awfully good of you to take it like this.” said Archie cordially. “I mean, being a grandfather—" Mr. Brewster smiled. Of a man of his apperance, one could hardly say that he smiled playfully, but there was something in his expression that remotely suggested playfulness. “My dear old bean—-" he said. Archie started. “My dear old bean,” repeated Mr. Brewster firmly, “I'm the happiest man in America!” His eves fell on the picture which lay on the floor. He gave a slight shudder. but recovered himself immediatery. ““After this,” he said, “T can reconcile myself to living with that thing for the rest of my life. I feel it doesn't “I say!" said Archie. “How about that? Wouldn't have brought the thing up if you hadn’t introduced the topic, but, speaking as man to man, what were You up to when I landed on your spine just now?" “I suppose you thought T had gone off my head.’ “Well, I'm bound to say— Mr. Brewster cast an unfriendly | | glance at the picture. | “Well, T had every excuse, after| living with that infernal thing for a| week."” looked at him. astonished. | 1 say, old thing—I don’t know if | T have got your meaning exactly, but vou somehow give me the impression {that you don't like that jolly old work | |of art.” o cried Mr “It’s | | nearly driven me m: | caught my eve it & | the “neck. Tonight couldn’t stand it any longer. I didn't want to hurt Lucille’s feelings by telling her, so I made up my mind 1 ‘would cut the blamed thing out of its frame and tell her it had been stolen.’ | “Archie was thinking “Well, all this rather gets past me.” | he said. “Personally, I've always ad mired the thing. Still, of course, if| You feel that way |” “You may take it fr don “Well, then, in that case—yo know how clumsy I am—you can tell Lucille it was all my fault— The Wigmore Venus smiled Archie, it seemed to him, with Brewster. i e me a pain in 1 felt as if 1| om me that | were through the wa thetic, pl ment, he w of guilt; then hardening his heart in the alr and descended with hot feet on the ure. There was sound of rending canvas, and t Venus ceased to smile “Golly!" said Archie, g his S, sprang light regarding ti | wreckage remorsef Mr morse. night, he “My boy Archie as i with new eyes. ewster did not or the ripped he share his re second time th him uavered. were you not ? Oh, ves— Every time it “You ought to Mr. Brewster more in a vigorou hope,” he added be like you.” There are cert compliments sources, before whi stunn Archie’s did. convulsively He had to hear these w Brewster. “How would it be said, almost brokenly | trickled down to the spot of sherbet? e been a genera d his hand once embrace. “I or at your som W compliments, o from cert modesty He swallo: never thou from Dar old thing “it you bar and h 1 150th Anniversary of Historic Rid: Of Paul Revere Is Observed Today (Continued from Third Page.) most, he came up; and we tried to get past them; but they being armed with pistols and swords they forced us into the pasturei—the Doctor jumped his Horse over a low stone wall, & got to Concord. “I observed a wood at a small dis- tance, & made for that. When I got there, out started six officers, on Horseback, and ordered me to dis- mount; one of them who appeared to have the command, examined me. where I came from, and what my name was? I told him. He asked me if I was an express? I answered in the affirmative. He demanded what time I left Boston? I told him; and aded that their troops had catched aground in passing the River, and that there would be five Americans here in a short time, for I had alarmed the country all the way up. He imediately fode toward those who stopped us, when all five came down upon a full gallop: one of them, whom I afterwards found to be a Major Mitchell, of the 5th Regiment, clapd his pistol to my head, called me by name, and told me he was going to ask me some questions, and if T did not give him true answers, he would blow my brains out. He then asked me similar questions to those above. He then ordered me to mount my Horse, after searching me for arms. He then ordered them to ad- vance, and to lead me in front. * % k¥ “« 'HEN we got to the road, they turned down toward Lexington. When we had got about one mile, the Major Rode up to-the officer who was leading me, and told him to give me to the sargent. As soon as he took me, the Major ordered him, if T at- tempted to run, or anybody insulted them, to blow my brains out. We rode {ill we got near Lexington meetin house, when our militia fired a volley of guns, which appeared. to alarm them very much. The Major inquired of me how far it was to Cambridge, and if there were. any. other Road” After _some consultation, the Major rode up to the sargent, and asked if his Horse was tired? He told him he was—(he was a sargent of Grenadlers, and had a small Horse}—then, said He, take that man’'s Horse. I dis- mounted, and the sargent mounted my horse, when they all rode toward Lexington Meeting House. “I went across the burying ground, & some pastures, & came.to the Rev. Mr. Clark’s house, where I found Messrs. Hancock and Adams. I told them of my treatment, and they con- cluded to go from that house toward Woodburn. I went with them, and a Mr. Lowell, who was a clerk to Mr. Hancock. When we got to the house where they intended to stop, Mr. Lo ell and myself returned to Mr. Clark's, to find what was going on. When we got there an elderly man came in; he sald he had just come from the Tav- ern, that a man had come from Bos- ton, who sald there were no British troops coming. Mr. Lowell and my- self went toward the Tavern, when we met a man on full gallop, who told us the troops were coming up the rocks. We afterward met another, who said they were close by. ‘Mr. Lowell asked me to go to the Tavern with him to get a Trunk of papers belonging to Mr. Hancock. We went up Chamber; & while we were gitting the Trunk, we saw the Brit- ish very near, upon a full March. We hurried toward Mr. Clark’s house, on the way we passed through our mill- tia; there were about 50. When we had got about 100 yards from the Meeting House, the British troops ap- peared on both sides of the Meeting House. In their Front was an Officer on Horse back. They made a short halt, when I saw, & heard a Gun fired, which appeared to be a pistol. Then I could distinguish two Guns, & then a continual roar of Musquetry, when we made off with the Trunk.” (This refers to the Battle of Lexing. ton, which Revere saw.) hundred | The measure of the value of this famed ride of Revere's is found in the fact that, after the redcoats had de stroyed what powder had not yet been concealed in Concord, they began an exhausted return march to Boston, harassed along the whole route by determined and angry farmers, s that it was necessary for the Brit to send out to meet them and conduct them safely within their lines a de. tachment of the main body of their troops. Soon 16,000 minute-men sur- rounded the capital and held Gen. Gage a prisoner under siege. And the value of the midnight ride becomes clear. It appears that Paul Revere served after the ride of the 1Sth of April, | but after that he sends in regularly |a bill for his bearing of messages, which the Assembly as regularly re duced in amount. Rev, and the interruption to trade due to the punishment of Boston interfered with his business to a great degree. That Paul Revere was versatile as | well as thrifty is shown by the many new industries that he directed from |this time on. He was ever on the | alert for interests suited to his crafts cured the contract to engrave and the revolutionary, Rovernment of Mas sachusetts. The paper which he sup- plted for this issue was so thick and SHff that the British, with a never failing aptness for descriptive terms rency of the rebels A charge for materials and work on this order w gress. THE next public service which he was asked by the provincial Con- gress to perform held in its core no slight touch of humor. It would seem that as late as the close of the year 1775 there was in all the colonies only one powder-making factory. So the to. Philadelphia, where this factory was located, to study the plan of the equipment and to secure the recipe for the manufacture of the powder. He went armed with the most disarming letter ever carried by a would-be man- nopolist in the business. read, in part. as follows: “Mr." Oswald Eve: A Powder Mill in New England cannot in the least degree affect your manufacture nor be of any disadvantage to you, there- fore you will cheerfully & from Public Spirited motives give Mr. Revere such information as will enable him to con struct the business on his return home.” It was signed by Robert Morris. ‘When Revere arrived Mr. Eve scented competition and at first re- fused to permit his visitor even to en- ter the factory, but later relented on that point while he refused to divulge any trade secrets. Unfortunately for his greed, Revere was gifted with keen observation and possessed a working knowledge of chemistry, so that he carried away with him, the desired in- formation. An abandoned factory at Canton was rebuilt and Paul Revere was soon sup- plying the Continental Army with tons of powder. Leaving a Mr. Crane in charge of the mill, Revere, upon the evacuation of Boston by the British, was made lieutenant colonel of a reg- iment of militia artillery, stationed at Castle Fort, to defend the harbor of Boston. He chafed under this inactive post, and was glad enough to take part in the campaign against Penob- scot. That Incident runs as follows: Yankee privateers had done severe damage to British shipping in England waters, and the forces of the King decided to prevéfit further destruction by building a fort at Pe- nobscot, on the Maine coast, where uns could be posted to destroy the booty-laden ships ee they sought their The letter as express without compensation until | re had a large | family to support (16 children in all), | manship, and he applied for and se- | print the first paper money issued by | called the bills “the pasteboard cur- | cut from 68 to 50 pounds by the Con- | provincial Congress sent Paul Revere | ufacturer to the sole owner and mo- | ew | havens in the ba government of equip an expedit forces to destroy aration sels with mounted 2,000 sailors. w 20 transports to boot. One histor clat : e strongest finest nished by England cost 1, under the cor Dudley & A land Brig. |in ¢ The wall o | 5 feet, only tv mounted, and or were in the bay. 1y outnumbe; combined land capture of the f an easy matter. mmodore tonstall refused to let his hoats par ticipate in the movement against the fort, and in the geners fon tha followed orders from commanding ¢ s seemed unavailzble, and mer ser officers did what seemed wisest, which to many was to ret: home. husetts vote land and mmand of the artillery train sh guns I v four of their Americ: ene ac t would have provec T goes without vestigation followed and that off cers to blame for this outright faflur were punished. Among these names | was that of Paul Revere, charges were lodged against hi arently by those who wished to jure him. The first trial left his name nd honor smirched with the shame owardice, Revere demanded om the court another trial, whic | still did not vindicate him. He demanded a. court-martial and had satisfaction of obtaining a complete vindication of his conduct At the close of the war Paul Revere returned to his work in gold and si ver, after he had sought in vain for a Government position in connection with the engraving of the currency for the new Government. It was for tunate that he failed thus to obliter ate himself, for later he opened a bell and cannon foundry in the north e of Boston, where he made brass c: non. bolts, spikes and other composi tions, Paul Revere soon learned that the casting of church bells is a delicate and intricate art, whose perfection comes only with much practice one has come to know that copper from different mines possesses differ- | ent qualities; that the proportion of tin to the amount of copper can hold no fixed ratio, therefore, that thick- ness of the bell must vary with the size, and that the adjustment of the bell must be made with greatest care. His first bell was aflure when judged from tone quality, but his mas terpiece, out of some 60 bells cast, still sounds with mellow resonance from the massive tower of King's Chapel. | ~The bells cast by Paul Revere | his son bear an inscription to effect with the date of the casting, so that they can be distinguished from those cast later by another son, Paul, after his father was done with such efforts. There hangs in_the steeple of All Souls' Chutfch on Sixteenth street one of the bells in the Paul Revere foundry, Boston, by the son of Paul Revere in 1821. It was warranted for one year, but i still in perfect con- dition. Its rich tones float out from | the steeple every Sunday for the morn- | ing service, and again at 4:45 each | Sunday afternoon. |~ How altogether fitting that on this | sesquicentenary of the ride of Paul Revere, in the Old North Church in Boston, there is being held a secvice in commemoration of his dauntless patriotism in which Mrs. Nathaniel Thayer of Boston, the great-grand daughter of Paul Revere, will have a part and Charles Gates Dawes, Vicel President, of the United States and great-great-grandson of William | Dawes, jr.. will make an addrese saying that an in and serious P nd