Evening Star Newspaper, January 24, 1926, Page 78

- _THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. THE MAD MOON BY VINGIE E. ROE. —» Romance, Thrills, Action in the Story of a Strange Wooing. water's edge they dis <ing and ancient ca race ot sails and a narrow deck. heavenly gems. Below, the » moor was rising as sohnya twilight waters of tne bay oretoid. It made a strangely made a mysterious foor o. mause .. darkness at first, casting ovi silver sheen, decked by the of the bay a smoke oi silver in€és of graceiul masts. Mu half blinded the v up, fine, filigree swrings ol it, ti it to pulsing with its mystery against each othe were chairs on the afterdeck On 4 shadowed ort of vicarious seclusion, and looked down the severa! sailors hummed vastly diierent they handled rope and tiller. A was old sweet €00 reeze . wai previous most immediately they were tacking embaimed with memories. 10 the | up azainst it, standing out across the other it was fair aplete, since | ilver floor. she viewed ft with the eyes or youth 1i'a they sat near togethe starved youth at that. the lizhts of the wonderiul Her hands were clasped beneathy v back chin and her la rk from one rm of worl drink in b and very lo ing g an e abot strangely with the her earing, an odd pressio Her raim zhe point of extravagance, though sulb, ed by excellent taste. Her littic dark head was dressed with care every shining wave: there were jewels on her fingers and in her ears. She was exquisite. Her companion wi though in a different way. She w no lonier young, as one reckons youth, for the oval of her pale face had lost something of its once incomparable contour. In the dark hair dressed me- ticulously back from her brow there showed a trace of silver. Where the beauty of the Italian night set throb- | bing in the glrl a tide of nameless emotions so that a little pulse beat in | her throat, this woman was calmed by it, a trifle saddened. That she had | lived, one knew by every line of her ace, by the quiet grace of her hands folded in her lap, by the stillness that | hung upon her like a garment of in Vincible pride. “Oh, Sohnya!" breathed the rapturously, “the Heaven of Sister Veronica is always telling be no more wonderful than this! And we have walked amid it—been free to walk! We shall walk again tonight 1 am still stupld with joy—and grati tude.” She turned impulsively and laid her fingers for a moment on the | - folded hands. “Without you it could never have been—and I should have passed from the dead duliness of my | life to the horror that awaits me with never a taste of what life can mean— with never a glimpse of the wonder of freedom! I may suffer the more by contrast, but—I shall never cease to be thankful for it. For a_moment the glowing beauty of the shadowy face was eclipsed, if a hand had passed across it; the exquisite head dropped to the bal cony’s rail. The woman clasped the warm voung fingers. Her eyes burned upon the bowed head with infinite pity. nfinite love. “Lift up,” she said gently, heart, we have tonight—and the leeper the £ he h: There alcony two women upon the scene with emotiions. To one it a veriiable part of her Lie, a part, redolent romanc an ‘orvy rd eyes roved W with its e little. on them they sn the girl and the Ameri stood agains. the rail, tibly aimost, they went a Li pointing out to each nt and that among the lights, until at last nehman and the woman sat “My dear Sohnya,” said the man in 1 guarded voice, “my heart is un easy. He did not speak in his native tongue, mor in Italian, but in a run ning liquid speech which had its origin in the rugged hills of a smalt tut prideful inland principality. His companion answered him in kind, und the strange words had a won | drous beauty on her cultured tongue. “I know, said, “and 1 am sotry, my friend. For me it .is all right—but for vou, I am sorry An exclamation escaped the man Not so! That is nothing—poof! A bagatelle! .I! Why, what have I done to earn that from vou? Have I ever counted costs? ond in any ro young. k lioom jumi lin t was s. rich 1 arcely less emprise of romance or intrigue? Evek done ought but——"" “But fly to the lists of the help- less,” finished the woman, smiling affectionately, “but offer up your in- domitable soul in any case that touched your tender heart. Forgive me, Princiep. No, it is not that. am only sorry to drag you into this. Our long friendship, my ancient af- fection for you, mak take vour risky service just now when girl which 3ut, he protested, "I am friend ‘of John Henderson. I him as much as vou love the— The woman put a quick hand across his lips. “S-h-h-s!” she said And without. me how could she have had this magic hour, this taste of life to carry with her into exile? “True,” said the woman sadly, “Poor little one—poor innocent child | We have done more risky things to. gether, Princiep. We'll risk it once 1gain i HERE was a space against the rail amidships where solitude brooded duringly between the sailors at the fore, the friends astern; and Soerl, w0 ey —and > here voung John Henderson, from everal nights. There will be a moon | o V{INE John, tlenderson, from iater—and the sound of water on a 5 ’ S U | the dark-haired daughter of an alien SR e (P |land. The muffiing cloak had fallen | a haps e hsevy stikel L from her head, leaving the beautiful g g b olive curve of her neck, the dusky e cheek, with its tropic roses, to gleam eI e T ooy {in the moonlight with bewitching oman, HEing ‘Ch?);r:'nou hand lay on the polished The girl sprang up, alert upon the | s 3 d Instont hor eang UP. alert upon the 'rail and he touched-it timidly. ‘The sparkling. “Hurry, Sohnya!" she|Moon,” he said, “is a traitor. It whispered, “I feel as if T should die i | B sape mortals mad. S AN you i e e have so short a time In Naples. Five ol days from tomorrow morning, did o you say?” The girl nodded. the LITTLE later they walked to-| gether down the broad shallow stairs which gave to the lower part of the house. Though the warmth of the night was sweet and heavy, both women were 8o muffled by wraps that | there was little by which they could | be distinguished. ' Two men came forward from among the palms and flowers of the fover. N\ R N FROM SOMEWHERE ABOUT HARLEQUIN'S FOOLISH GARMEN GUN, SHORT AND HEAVY, WHICH rded | shone with tears. iage for ! Texas shut his lips in a firm line. blowing and | girl at her knee. | | to a narrowing circle | onee ced the bay, and ihe ~pell of | berove nd Ever hesitated ‘a sec- | { her | The man from Two hours er the Lady Sohnya t in the room behind the heavy cur- tains and stroked the beautiful’ head that lay upon her knees. “S-h-h-s, s-h-h-s,” she soothed ten- ion but set|derly, “there, dear one, there, there, there. It is iife, dear heart, and we must fact ft.” ~ There was no answer but the long sobs, deep and guarded, which came with a dull monotony from the young It was the weeping of resignation, hope'ess and bitter. I—" said Illola, between the obs, “I—wish—I—had not—com— ommanded you—to bring me here! The pain of longing to see—see him »guin was bad, 1o see him once before——" " She stopped and wept nfresh while the woman smooth- But | ed the satiny head. hat pain was in my heart like a tull, dead ache—but ft—is a fire of torture no Oh, Sohnj can I give m f to another man! the—o!d black—ki Once more the woman pu hand on the other's lips. said she again. * ok ok ok HE gardens of the embassy were gav with lights and lanterns. Mar- ble fauns and satyrs gleamed among the shadowed green. Fountains mur- mured. t'inging their million gems to sparkle & brief moment with rainbow hues and Jie among the lilles of their pools. Masked and bedizened figures flittered here and there, dominoes and fools, Falstaffs, kings and beggars, dancers and nuns, witches and valky- ries, laughing, running, carrying ban- ners of multi-hued and wavering con fetti. They danced upon the flagging of the walks, catching partners from among the mass, some at random, some with gay intent, but all with joy. Beneath the music, laughter made a murmuring undertone; the sounds of feet in satin slippers threaded the splashing of the silver waters. Among them, in a sort of trance of 1| ecstasy, went Harlequin dancing with | play is madn an Abbess whose flowing robes con cealed the grace of her young form. warm and tight about her, he bent there is danger around every corner.” | his head so that the whispered words the | which passed between them were for |friend and sliding love | their ears alone and he gave none op portunity to usurp his place. “This moon,” he told her, “is liquid madness—but it shines the same in Texas. Far beyond the bay out vonder are ‘miles of level prairie, running with ripples, too—wind on the bending ; and for the lights of Naples, stars—great southern stars, hung above the plains. There is the sound of cattle lowing, the feet of running horses, the clink of spurs. In the ! ranch house under tMe live oaks is | | peace. quietness. stmplicity—it waits for love. And there s freedom—ten thousand milles of it."” The Abbess sighed. “Freedom!”.she 1d beneath her breath. “Oh, free dom! Then they were gone down a shad- owed way where the great boughs of enormous trees met and formed a canopy. Here there was darkness, soft as love ifself. full of the stirrings | TS HE BROUGHT A GRIM, BLACK FITTED HIS BIG HAN D FAIRLY. | One was a Frenchman, a trifle bald; “And T have had you only three nd rotund, but of that rare and de- | this time—five altogether, counting ghtful nature which meets life in|those two on the hoat last spring. its phases with happiness mixed | That is short, Illola.” It was the \ith kindness and tempered by under- ! first time he had used her name, manding. The other was an Amer- caught from Mme. Sohnya. ican. undeniably. Tall, fair, bronzed [a tiny tremor in Ty months of recent travel in Afri s own. e was a splendid young creature as| “So short! Le smiled eagerly and leaped up the oad steps to mect them. His hand ke was American and robust as his ame, quick and respectful for the ! woman, lingering and clinging for the &irl, “By George!” he cried inelegantly, “It’s been an age since yesterday!” ‘Princlep,” said the woman re- vroachfully, “ean you not leap up eps any more”” o The Frenchman bowed beautifully. “Years, my dear Sohnya,” he said, ;and embonpoint forbid! But T main: tain that I can still—what you call it? +zive our ebullient young friend |from him It fell upon the rail, lifted ards-and-spades in deportment. Per- |and fell again— yait me.” And he gave her his ) r. American, with perfect grace. ously faint voice, They descended the terraces of their | {0 OUr friends? wwn immediate garden to a vehicle | But, walking beside him in silence, \iting at a stone gate covered with |she stumbled on the smooth deck and Vougainvillea. They entered it and | when John Henderson, catching her, dropped away down among the fairy |raised her face to the moon he saw liehts, thelr voices and laughter \-m,—|“~nh a chill at his heart, which yet irzed wlih oy, thui her. durk. eves Ll . L] And yi (silent on the point, too, and T have enough—barely enhough—breeding respect the silence which you all im. pose. But tonight I am mad because |of the moon. Moonlight on the bay ‘and Naples vyonder.” His brown ! fingers closed on the soft white hand, |it there. It struggled a moment and lay still, save for a trembling which { had set up in it. ! “Tllola,” he said, “I love you." { she said in a curi- i | ! | He felt | her check, the hand beneath,and I will be H »u will not tell me | happy. where you go, nor why; M. Bedet. is ' forever in my arm: {drew it up against his breast and held | jegsly, | of other lovers, unseen, and Harlequin slowed his step, paused, stood in the night, holding to his heart the one woman of all the world. “Beloved,” he sald, his lips against ome with me. 1 love you the Qust under your feet; all my life T will strive to make you Come with me to my country, . always upon my heart. you more than life I want to | itself—come with me, Illola.” The murmuring lips crept down along her cheek—found the trembling sweet red rosebud of her mouth—and with a little gasp the arms of the Abbess went round his neck, help- after the passionats manner of clinging as if for very life ispered the girl “for one year of what you youth, itsel “I'a_give life,” whi fiercely, There was a gasp in the shadowy ! picture—one glorious year with you— |light ard the hand was drawn swiftly | in your country—if it were possible. It is not possible.” “But why?” he persisted. “Why is {1t not possible? Shall one not do with | 'shall we go back | his own life what he wills?" “Not every one” she whispered sadly, “some are bought and sold— into pitiful bondage.” “What do you mean?” Henderson. But the Abbess, as if realizing too Jute o traitorous betrayal. Jaughed said John tremulously, snatched her arms from the American's neck. *Comy she cried. ‘The music is changing. How wild it is!” And she swayed from him, dancing on light feet. The man leaped after her, reaching out eager hands. By some trick of moon and shade he had lost sight of her, and in that second-a form came in between, and he cluiched not the soft folds of her black habit, but the brilliant spangles of a Toreador. Taken unaware, the Toreador piv. oted wildly, toppled and fell against an ivied pedestul on which a Pan was piping. As his face came uprighi {again a moonbeamn fell upon it, show ling for a moment a wide mouth | opened over gritted teeth and a face hivid with rage. Then the Toreador was gone—and the Abbess whispered iearfully from the shadows be: ind Henderson felt her shake agains: him as he circled her with his arm “What was it, dear?” he as guardediy, “did he touch you” » his face? Do you know him?' | 0—oh, no-ves—I d t knaw | Take e to S nya quic! she begged “Not that way-—wher the moon ! shines—this w and she hurried feverishly, stumbling on the long skirt | of her habit, pulling him by the hand, | covered with a sudden agitation. Where the great stone wall of the {embassy gardens edged the higher |terrace a draped ghost waited with a rotund monk “Sohny, the Abbess whispered | desperately, “let us go, quickly. I—I | have just seen Hollenbruft—he—had his hand almost upon me:” Like shadows the ghost and the Imonk melted into the darkness |beyond, drawing with them the Abbess Harlequin, his blood pounding in hi | veins, followed close. “M. Bedet,” he said carefully, “I in- sist on coming.” | “I beg you, my friend,” whispered the other, “to disappear into that | darkness yonder—and to go aboard | your ship as soon as possible. Our | poor little game is over, and we may |pay the plper—but for you further s, Adien—and remem ber that an old man and a wonderful | woman have tried, for a golden mo- ke me hesitate to | But the arms of the tall jester were |ment, to serve youth and its short hour. He was for pressing the hand of his through a which came up out of nothing, ft seemed, to bar their way, but John | Henderson, from Texas, gripped his fingers and pushed grimily after. As |&an afterthought he shut the gate and dropped the fastening in its slot out- | side. Then he followed the hurryving | figures and found that a vehicle, hood | ed under an anclent top, was awalting |in the shadows of the steeply terraced | way. M. Bedet handed his compan |fons quickly in, pushed in himselr. reached out a protesting hand to him From the darkness inside the volce o | ola. thick with anguish, caught his | ear. | _“Heart of my heart.’ ‘this is the end—of the dream’ {not forget me—ever!” | * % it whispered, Do HEN the vehicle was gone, | ing down the slope, the feet of its | horses smazingly still upon the stones { by reason of the sheepskin pads which | |covered them. The blood of Harle- quin, slready hot along his veins, surged like a tide in a storm. His | heart leaped in him, choking the air from his lungs. Love, prescient instant and awful loss, fell upon him with an icy touch. He knew instinctively that tha | swaying and mysteriously waiting car- riage was carrying out of his life for- ever the woman he loved—and he | would not have it. So he set his lips {in the stralght line which character- lized them in stress—at the moment | of firing when his lion leaped—us the line went over-the-top in a rainy Flan- ders dawn—as he stuck the humping back of a bawling Texas broncho— and went after the vehicle. | _He was long of limb and lean with | physical fitness, and not for nothing ,had he led his mates in the hardest | cross-country run of his last year at college. So the Itallan moon wit nessed the strange sight of a 6-foot {Jester sprinting after a ghostly rig {1ke all-possessed—saw him gain upon it where the road turned sharply— {saw him make a final savage spurt and catch it as it swung upward !through ‘a hidden way beneath the |arch of trees. ! Clinging like 2 monkey to the rock- !ing hood, John Henderson watched the moonlit world with narrowed eyes. | The familiar house of the broad stair- { {way and flower-filied foyer sat high {upon the close-bufit slant and the whistling horses were making for it rapidly. A little way below, M. Bedet called in a low voice to the driver, who stopped abruptly. Where the scented growth made deepest shade the occupants of the carriage got quickly out, and almost us if there had been no halt in its progress the anclent rig went on. “Monsleur——" said John Hender- son, and leaped backward as he spoke, {for a knife-point burned his shoulder {like a serpent and the rotund monk {was upon him with upraised arm. “Mon ami!” cried M. Bedet aghast, “but you are quick! I all but killed vou then! Why did vou follow Are you a fool?" “No, sir,” said his friend, “but I'm a Texan—and they don't usually quit.” “You are mad!” man sadly, “and I am the fool—an old fool who dabbles with death for the sake of romance! For all our sakes go back.” “No," said Harlequin. “Mr. Hendersoy,” said the Lady Sohnya in a sweet. low voice, “listen to monsieur, I pray you. Go quietly back and it will be safter for us all. {Go quickly—and forget us—all save | the sweetness of our short friendship, i our happy holiday. Please go.” i “Darling," sald Harlequin to the abbess, standing in silence in the near dusk, “I'll never give you up while we both live. I'd s soon begin to fight now as later. Come back with me to the Embassy—" “For the love of heaven!" | Sohnya, “move | quickly—there’s a | path "here. It leads to the garden’s jrear. There's a_figure—two—at the turn down there!” Up the little path, into the garden sweet with the smell of night upon the flowers, into the house the four friends went on careful feet. There was no light anywhere, but the heavy. middle-aged serving woman was wait ing in the foyer. the strange tongue, quickly, and presently they were in a room that smelled of disuse, cool with depth, dead with the silence of great walls. Here M. Bedet spoke aloud and the | woman, Morvan, struck a light on the end of a long polished rod with which she touched candles in high sconces. The soft radiance picked out grandeur on every side, hangings Stiff “with cold, priceless paintings, furniture fit for kings. The man from Texas glanced about swiftly, then looked at the face of the abbess, pale beneath its crowl. She held her black mask in a hand that shook perceptibly. Her great black eyes were tragic, beautiful with unshed tears. “I did not know that love could be like this,” she said piteously, “so brave—so steadfast—-" gate | us? | said the French-| whispered | The Lady Sohnya spoke to her in| JANUARY 24, i | . | l U/éf(/ i 7 5. G A 1926 PART _ SHE CRIED, HE MUsit “Then you do not know love,” said he, simply M. Bedet was walking agitatedly up and down, his ringed hands beneath his coat-tails, fipping them nervously Name of a4 name! he muttered “Sounya, we who have lived recog. | nize it, do we not? The true article, | simon-pure? o ok ok HE pale ghost diaphanous had thrown drapings and stood slim and elegant, in glossy black. In the dim light her fine and sentient face shone with delicate fire. She looked upon the girl with pitying eves. Then she smiled at the little Frenchman, a rare smile, the embodi- | | ment of perfect accord, perfect under- standing. “None should know it better, Prin ciep,” she said gently, “than we who, oeing denied, have served it for ) years.” Instantly he was be-| | stde her, bending over her hand, Kiss | ing it with all the sweet fire of youth | itselr. And love, her | | ma blen aimee,” he “It is of all this world’s posse the best, the nearest to that Divinity which rules the universe. | To serve love—Is it not, then, to serve le bon Dieu also There was in him a mounting ex- | citement. His small eyes sparkled { from their encroaching areas of fat. | round cheeks were flushed above the neat, short beard. He was Knight of the Golden Circle, a warrior {in the lists of love, above all a French | man. a little mad, perhaps, with the heady wine of romanc The woman was quicter, more sane and calculat “Iis all of that, wv | dear,”” she said “My friends said John Henderson “there is mystery here, and some sort | of danger, T am’ very sure, but since vou have not told me what is 1 { have not asked either shall 1 | know that you have a re stlence, and am content. But I know. { too. now that Illola loves me. and | { nothing shall keep her from me. I'll | stay here till doomsday.” | “Pravo!” cried M. Bedet, and the | Lady Sohnya looked again at the ab 1 Less. “That,” she said quietly. ness. You cannot stay.” | _“Oh. can't 17" he | Forgive me, Mme. Soh serious.” asked ge 1, but I arn It we who should ask fo n said the lady, “since we have | is | | brought you to this pass—have placed | the light of happiness before you only to extinguish it “Not by a long way,” said the “I'm a fine 'l ser Amerfcan grimly o0ld windbreak myself don’t go out.” “But there will be perhaps—occarion for more than dan. ger,” said Mme. Sohnya, “even per haps_for if ol tound here.” AT reason S00m, very soon found here? Fo y whom? “That,” she said again, 1 tell you! It is our the of —our country.” For a long mom John Henderson regarded the small roup with piercing eves. He had dis carded his cap, and the gravity of the moment s upon his garh of gayety “If” you would only said; but no one spoke Only Tlola looked ut him ering lips and tears glitte dark wells of her ey ‘I piteously am all blame who forced my dear friends me here that I might you onc tin—that 1 ight have one wild, full taste of life before I forsw f¢ e longed to hear we met in the S d_you every hour he ciught what do vou mean Lady Iilola,” sald “is about to he married ell The hand of girl fumbled wit he folds of Abbess’ robe: her wide eves nev her lover's face, 0 that is all,” said son presently could that There ound of feet on the padded floors, rustle of a curtain at the far end the room “Madame,” am and 1 can seer secre sat tell me,” he h quiv 1 the s, satd to bring pring I have lov rswore? her up. “The quickly dead silence Sohnya A the the lef John Hender ave to id the Iy frichtened the garden door “th is sound womar in knocke voice, alled!” sa M. Bedet d bird the s arms - rusn the clinging to him despera once more!” she sobbed, you love me, go before it is too He Kissed her hastily and put h: one side. From somewhere Harlequin's foolish ga brought a_grim black gun heavy, which fitted his squarel Monsieur said, “step shadows I the tense moment the were keen with different emotions. Henderson's grim his gun. set like a rock—M. Bedet's alive with the flame of deathless romance- ments sho! big vou. Madame. vonder in and back the * * visible BY UTHAI N NCENT WILCON. Febru: 1. 41 years age the Washington Monument was dedicate:d as the highest edifice ever built In fact the early Americans who car- ried through the plans never lost opportunity to emphasize in gl {terms the tremendous height ¢ { Monument. They were proud of | They gloried in it. Perhaps it was {this that planted the first seeds that | ater hore sKyscrapers. | That the interest in the height of the | | Monument and its relation to buildings {was not forgotten is evident from the amount of publicity that the newspa pers gave to that phase of ft. A re- porter of the National Republican told, in the vear previous to the Monu- ment’s completion, of the thrilling Itrip to the top. and was so impressed | ! with what man had done in climbing | heavenward that he began to prophesy. | He told of “musing upon the infinity | the universe and the grandness of | | creation,” which caused him to see| {into the future. | { He opened his eyes ac a seer, and | om his place on the Monument he wept his gaze across the spot where | lonce stood the Washington that he | {knew. The earth was covered,” he {continued, magnificent dwell- ings, which would ve been the {grandest palaces a century before. | Magnificent piles of granite and mar- |ble reared their symmetrical heads {high into_the clouds, much higher {than the Monument itself. | “Around many of them were parks hick with Juxuriant foliage, through which merry fountains could be seen | isending aloft parabolas of crystal lspray. As far the eyve could see | | rose “continuous piles of massive build- lings.” This prophetic reporter had gone to sleep in 1882 and awakened in 1996. It seems that everything was changed, for back in 1906 Joannes Johnson was elected President of the United States and he undertook many reforms. “He | ordered the old buildings to be torn |down and destroved. Ho then began | building where the Capitol stood. In 1942 the present buildings were fin- ished, and now they extend over 50 acres of territory The city his about 20 miles long and 10 miles wide, and “would have been much larger but for a fire {that destroyved some 300,000 houses.” ! But because it wasn't a commercial | { it was quite small as cities went it But the houses of that day were all higher than the Monument, “the majority being some six or seven hundred feet high.” The prophesying reporter discovered another of his kind while in his trance and talked over city conditions in America. He found that Washington’s buildings were pretty small in com- parison with those in New Jersey. “Why, these buildings in Washing- ton are nothing more than back sheds ‘when compared with those in New Jersey,” said his seer friend. “Why, my house in Ringtailburg is not much of a house, but she’s eleven hundred feet tall.”’ < At about this staté of the.vision he 1 lin looked over toward Arlington that there public officials were unv ing a monument to some one wh been in the Wur of 1898, 4 terest caused hi to wher men were quitting work. 3ut if this repc wiven visions of height, he was not such had prophet, considering the span o tin he covered Judging by sky scrapers, some folks might say that he may vet be shown to be right be- fore 1996 shall come. However, it is hoped that trafic problems for dwellers in the seven-hundred-foot buildings in Washington will have been solved by that time. After the Monument was completed, to see il HOISTING THE CAP STO! he | 15 CHANGENG that death i changing All knew degree was Sohnya, of the ation Delay 1 swif Princi= getting old me b “We side by adventures “Happily And we None.” Perhaps what do you “I know it Youth—and what ar ith th he he itiful! have 1 th my it we countes oman HOw rea ived rou an adored’ ove worth, can giv d costs? reached hers others, ip thi; simy “To 1l th wra t ing that equin W a h many It « iib more turned to loved desperat e no regrets e A% lished clearly itn said time, hour— dom— wciep” them Have 5w better my raise i lled ther upon t onee notice? rother,” ne hlackness town friend spot clos she ship. si st hove r b short Henderson, regime into the its height int small e ime the klet first or's trip to the entitled and How in the Tk Mund Air “If one feels , there is no cess is so certain ar hor cent shaft “Wheth {inspire fear ov of the | from the reply the asce W visitors we t there Ascen ine In p desire feet not made M sald the Ameri R 7y WA 252 4 il Z, /145 Hollenbr 14— Be “lose faithfully v o cerve serve od love God he tha Then she began to speak own tongue soft, liquid words were somehow replete with fire in another moment she sunk her Kknees before the bbess- holding her hand against her cheel little stiffi; M. Bedet went dow: > her. The American, watching ense excitement, ny. Madame,” coming.” He ¢ the ast glimpse these two turned to the »om-—cor Ut steadfast d of litt pale panecl Sty trembl s right i xas pla h shou! ng wi ard 1 rageo Mme. Things ¥ ve the prin Its thi: Dublishe 1 at the zolng Hor Appe: vriter sup full ¢ one 1y in which sue- <0 speedy as an of this great nt is calculated to may be imagined of the bighest officials in Washington to the E OF THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT, ON DECEMBER 3, 1884. PHOTOGRAPH OF A DRAWING MADE AT THE TIME: OF THE CEREMONY. A ‘Washington Monument in Early Days Viewed as Pointing Way to New Ideas frightened I was perfect] bearty force e 1 going up terrifie iven Frizhtened! was t ere The ascent is made by which runs through the n Ereat obel open platf ddle of t1 This elevator is # mer which does not deserve the n the alleviator. as Mre Gilfory puts it: it is rather the terrifier. In half a minute the light of day totally disappears. and at tha wmoment the horrors of the positio \ suddenly swoop down. To he dangl hundreds of feet above a chasm, wi jonly a rope between vou and a fall t the bottom is enough to appal an imagination. Although the darkr is blackness inconceivable, and the tense silence broken only by the groan ing of the zreat mass feeling its wus | painfully upward. yvet the frightfui | abyss appears to become of itself bot and visible. The last 150 fer between heaven ar unging between life an ath. Even the elevator man gives u s heroic s to keep up the cou: n ime thing could repay one for horrors of the ascent, it would | the view after reaching the top. Eve: | the most hardened sightseer must ! | enthusiastic at the great panoran: | spread out before him. The vast | Treasury Building looks lfke a Lillipu tlan house “The buildings gether, not in long rectangles. fact t the appear massed t little squares, but i This is due to the broad avenues and streets radiating from the Monumen are visible for their entire lengt} while the thoroughfares running at {right angles are hid behind the houses “Sixteenth street. reaching from L fayette Square out to the standpip~ above the Boundary, is particularl | noticeable. | _“The full grandeur of the Capltol i | then for the first time realized. When |it is remembered that the Capitol i ;1-!’ almost the identical dimensions o the great pyramid, and of St. Peter's being perhaps a few feet longer thai either, it may seem that it has nothing to lose by looking at it from any poir of elevation. Everything else grows I minute from the top of the Monu ment except the white splendor of the {Capitol. It seems to be on a moun |tain instead of a hill, and amid the | diminishing of every other object the | great white dome stands grandly out {80 high that it looks as though poised in afr. “It s a queer sensation to look over the top of the Goddess of Liberty to the ridge which forms the watershed of Chesapeake Bay. The latter s not visible nor can Baltimore be seen. “A look at the elevator and a propo- | sition to descend is enough to kill any | enthusiasm, however. But- it is by | comparison” with the ascent simply ! delightful. To the simultaneous and earnest assurances made to the elev. tor man that nobody in the party would ever do =0 any more, he sar- donically renlied. ‘All of ‘em says _that'""