Evening Star Newspaper, December 26, 1926, Page 72

= THE SUNDAY STAR. WASHINGTON - ULTIMA THULE BY JOHN GALSWORTHY "he Failure of Succes The words A thie winter 1 write know 1t LTIMA THULE! into my hea That th ¥itle old friend nx st where h e One would see them sile: Vor flower their heaven e water their o their Often they crumbs aut to the birds veh about them admittedly # noti child, fairhaived pointed chin somewhat ton Gardens after small gir before & heads or w 10 hefe inclined leaning " shor ed on stor watchin would stand holdi who wou They W couple dark clothes 1 put to it standing at his hand since he wa man. he seemed his own feet. He was zarbed member, in a baverdy brown « and bread-brimmed hat costume did not_indicate prosperity. But it was hi rivited attention. Thin and wind-dried as old wood, it had = special sort of brightness, with waves of silvery hair, and blue which seemed to shine. Rather I used to think. Standing by the rails of an inclosure, with his withered i< pursed and his cheeks drawn, he would emit the most enticing trills and inge, exactly imitating various birds One day by the Serpentine [ saw him coming along alone, looking sad but still with that queer brightness about him. He sat down on my bench and began talking to himself in a sort of whisper. 1 caught the “God cannot be like us.”" And for fear thet he might go on uttering such pre. cious remarks that were obviously not intended to be heard, 1 had either 1o g0 away or eise address him. So. an impulse, 1 said Why? He turned without surprise. “I've lost my landlady’s little girl.” he gaid. “Dead! And only seven years old.” ““That little thing you with? “Did “T used to see you looking at flowers, and trees, and those ducks. His - face brightened wistfully. “Yes was a great companion 10 an old man like me. We were great friends! But 1 couldn’t pect it Things don't last, do they 1 was glad to notice that his voice was gel ting cheerful. “When 1 w in the or- chestra &t the Harmony Theater it never used to occur to me that some day I shouldn't play their any more. One felt like a bird. That's the beauty of music, sir. You lose yourself: like that blackbird there.” He imitated the note of a biackbird so perfectly that I could have sworn the bird start- ed. Birds things: buttercup- <k conble The and seemed And if with wore hard nof the two were stil we v Hways cherryred I used to watch u? Did » I'm glad you and flowers Wonderful wonderful! Why. even a —!" He pointed at_one of those little golden flowers. “Did you ever see such a marvelous thing?” And he turned his face up at me. And yet somebody told me once that they don't agree with cows. Now can that be? I'm not a countryman—though I was born at Kingston.” *““The cows do well enough on them,” I said, “in my part of the world. In fact, the farmers say they like to see buttercups.” “I'm glad to hear you say that! . was always sorry to think they agreed.” When, I got up to go, he rose. “I take it as very kind of you said, “to have spoken to m ““The pleasure was mine. ¥ x ¥ ¥ EXT time 1 came ac him standing by the rails of an in closure, and in his arms an old and really wretched-looking cat “I don’t like boye,” he said. without preliminary of any sort. “What do vou think they were doing to this poor old cat? Dragging it along hy a string to drown it: see where it's cut into the fur! I think boye despise the old and weak!” He held it out to me. At the ends of those little sticke of arms the beast looked more dead than alive: 1 had never seen a more mirerable crea ture. “I think a catl.” he said, “is one of the most marvelous things in the world. Such a depth of life in it.” “What are you going to do with it?’ ““Take it home; it looks to me as if it might die.” “You don’t think that might be more merciful?” “It depends: it depends. I shall see. I fancy a little kindness might do a great deal for it. It's got plenty of 1 can see from its eyes.” T come along with you a bit he said; “delighted.” We walked on side by side. “You'll find this'll be quite a differ ent cat tomorrow,” he said. “I shall have to get in. though. without my seeing: a funny woman! 1 have two or three sirays alread Can 1 help in any way “Thank you.” he said. I shall ring the bell. and as she comes out below | ehall go in above. Shell think it boys. They are like that.” “But doesn’t she do rour rooms or anything?" A smile puckered his face. “I've only one; I do it mygelf. Oh. it'd never do to have her about, even if I could af- ford it. But,” he added. “if you're so kind as to come with me to the doc g might engage her by asking where r. Thompson liver. That's me. In the musical world my name was Moro melli; not that 1 have Italian blood in me, of course.’ And shall T come up” Honored: but 1 live very quietly. We passed out of the gardens nt Yancaster Gate, where all the house fronts seem so successful, and into a Jittle street that wax extremely like a grubby child trying 1o hide under i mother's skirts. from his pocket #round the cat ‘She’s a funny woman.” ed; “Scotch descent, you know.” Su. denly he pulled an area-hell and xev tled up the steps When he had opened the door. ever, I saw hefore him a short, th woman dressed in black. with a sha face. Her voice sounded resolu “What have you got there, Thompson?” “Newspaper. Mrs. March.” h, indeed’ Now. you're ng to take that cat upstairs! The old fellow's voice acquired shrill determination. please. notice. The cat is going up. @nd it is going up.” It was then | sald: “Does Mr. Thompson live here?” In that second he shot past her. “Thai’s him,” she said: “and I wi §t wasn't, with his dirty cats. want him? “I do.” “He lives at the top.” Then grudging apology: I can’t help it; Sries me - he's very trying.” am sure he is." “Ah!" she said: “he is. 1 don't de Bis heart; but he's got no sense anything. Gondness knowe what haen't got up there. | wonder him. An old man like that ought s and wrapped M g t's Lnew better; half-starving himself to and ber before. {eed , them.” [ Ehe . paused, words, | on He 100k a newspaper he repeat- | how tand asidey Do you with a I keep Content and closely she said which had a cold honest | ter arched me If youre going hope vow'll give lets me | exes gl x np. n in. 1 od advice never wonder 1k him."” There narrow were three flishts of clean and smelling of oilelath & one of two doors at random Ked. Hix head and pinched face enutionsly 1 out Ah'" he sajd; 1 silvery were it thought might | | "rvn-: room, which vax faivly large had a1 floor with littie on it mphed and chest A large bird hun open. The wp and o litie 1 the a green wallpaper Which stared through in places. werd nails with their heads knock ed off, on to which bits of we had been spiked that they stood out 1« hird perches. Over the open win dow w piece of wirenetting had heen fixed. A little spirit-=tove and an old dressing-gown completed the wee ments of a room which one e 1 certain diffidence. He had not Besides the new cat there were three other cats and four hirds, all sav bullfineh inva lids. “The eats kept eloxe to the walls avoiding me. but wherever my little | old friend went they followed him with their eyes. The hirds were in the cage. except the hullfinch, which had perched on his shoulder. “How on earth 1 said, “do manage to keep cats and birds in one wom?" “There i danger.” he answer ed “but T have not had a disaster | | vet. Till their legs or wings are mend- | ed, they hardly © e out of the cage: | and after that they keep up on my | perches. But they don't stay lons. | You know., when they’re once well. That wire is only put over the win Gow while they are mending; i1l e off tomorrow for thix lot.” “And then they'll gc “Yes. The sparrow first, and then the two thrushes.” “And this fellow “Ask him.” he said. *“Would you 2o, Bully?’ But the bullfinch did not deign to answer. ~and were all trouble?” “Yes” he said. “They want me if they weren't.” | " Thereupon he bhegan to warm some [ milk. contemplating the new cat, | save a o of draw- ers with jug and basin 1he smelt o a bird walls, | vashed « driven with exagrerated vou | | those cats, too, in wouldn't | which he had placed in a basket close |to the stove, while the bullfinch sat | on his head. it seemed time to go. “Delighted to see you, sir,” he said, “any day."” \ “Phe landlady, still at the bottom of the stairs, began at once. “So you found him! 1 don’t know why 1 keep him. Of course, he was kind to my little girl.” 1 saw tears gather in her eves 5 “““With his cats and his birds, I won- der 1 keep him! But where ‘would he go? He's no relations, and no friends—not a friend in the world, 1 think! He's a character. Lives on air—feeding them cats! ve no pa- tience with them, eating him up. He never lets me in. Cats and birds! I wonder 1 keep him. Losing himseif for those rubbishy !hh!g! It's my belief he was always like that; I!fl'd that's why he never got on. He's o sense of anything.” < And she gave me a shrewd look, wondering, no doubt, what the deuce I had come about. * ox * [ DID not come across him again in the gardens for some time, and | went at last to pay him a call. Just ound the corner of his street 1 found | knot of people collected round one of those bears that are sometimes led through the less conspicuous streets of our huge towns. The yel Jowish beast was sitting up in defer- ence to its master’s rod, uttering lit tle grunts, and moving its uplifted snout from side to side. But it} seemed to be extracting more amuse- ment than money from its audience. | “Let_your bear down off ita hind and 1'll give you a penny leks An Jittle ola_friend among the wpectators, all taller than himsell. | But the bear'’s master only grinned | and prodded the animal in the chest He evidently knew a good thing when e saw it 2 -»f’?x','m you twopence to let him down.” | the bear-man grinned. B e said, and again prodded | the bear’s chest. The spectators were | > iy “"-fi-"n‘.-".’i.».. ¢! And if you don't let him down for that, I'll hit you jn the | “*he bear-man held out his hand. | All a-right,” he said, “threepence; 1| down | et i the coinn pass und the beast | dropping on his forefeet, but just| then a policeman ming in sight, | | the man led his bear off, and 1 was | left alone with my little old friend. | %1 wish 1 had that poor bear.” he said. 1 could teach him to be happy. But, even if 1 could buy him, what could 1 do with him up there? .\h?s’ | such a funny woman.” | He looked guite dim, |as we went along. p “A hea he said, “i= really an ex | traordinary animal. What wise little | eves he has' 1 do think he's a ll\ulr{ Velous creation! My cats will have to go without their dinner. though 1 Wwas going to buy it with that three-| I begged to be allowed the privilege | “willingly!" he said. “Shall we &o | in here? They like cod’s head bLest. We bought five cod’s heads. and 1 | lett him carrying them in a bag, evi | dently lost in the anticipation of five cats eating them | After that 1 saw him often, going | with him sometimes to buy foud for | his cats. which seemed evee to in crease in number. His talk was ai- itl wavs of his strays, and the marvels of creation, and that time of his when he played the flute at the Har mony Theater. -1 4 joh, it seemed for more than 10 vears, and when questioned only an swered. “Don’t talk about it, please' His iandlady never failed to favor me with a little conversation. She wag one of those women who terrific consciences and | grudges against them “I never get out,” Why not” ‘ouldn’t leave the house.” “It won't run away? 15 d-! in | ™ o 21 “Oh! An | ment. | " Considering her | she was curiously struggling on apparently from week to week, cleaning and answering the bell, and never getting out, and won. dering why she kept my lttle friend; just as he struggled from week to week, getting out and collecting | strays, and discovering the marvels | of creation, and finding her a funny | woman Their hands were joined, DY | one must suppose, by that dead child. | 1 never extremely get ou ott il sh tempera descent, however, =h he NE July afternonn, found her much upset. howeves He had tn » | can I w ) | him 10 promise me to , the Success of Failure and the Secret of ment. she =aid: “ecan’t touch Seeing that excitement for him than cate, 1 took the wire off. He fell back entiy came stealing in, till theve were four or five xeated against the walls Hix eves looked most supernaturally bright. staving out of his little, with rred-up fnce. He said, just audibly “Did vou ever xee anvthing more won- dertul than that sunlight? It's really marvelous' After that he fell into & sort of doze or stup 1 continued sit there, relieved, bhut rather millated, that he had not askefi me 1o ke care of his cats and bullfinch “There he ix a thing. IUs my belief he's done for himself, giving his food away all these his. 1 creatures vears to those cats of shooed em out today, the nasty again ouldn’t have him miser they won't get Oh ol done thai e in you it only make Fioh! him ah he flounced her head up I wonder 1ve with hix hirds » \nd “he said hix time. dirtying alkin nade me write some theater dence with him. And (b finch sl the perch pillow, #he dirty little thi turned i1 out et me cateh it What o Double hix fect he bound I dohis cais he lies, He kson of I've na pa <t Nttle buil I 1'd have sherisl or other motor in the street ppenred she entered very ‘Here he ix, * softly. xhe whispered * o, o wouldn't * x e 1oni Al T'm WENT out and found a genileman wet perhaps G0 His lossy vears of age plump and indeed, eemed to shine everywhere, save in the eves, which were of a dull and somewhat liverish hue. ‘Mr. Jackson?” he xame. How i him cont him | \iip a nurs face was red here hus th Al the tim He was lvin ~till when 1 went i, with the sunlight . falling the foot of hix bed, and, sure enough the hullfinch perching on his_pilow n that high fever he looked brighter than eyer. He wus not exaetly livious.“vet not exactly master thoughis, Mr Juckson! He'll Mr. dacksont He'll him, it 1 1L don't want to eat A kreat eater—1 want my that's all.” Then he seened to veco; think I'm going to die,” very weak. It's lucky to mind. 1f only he'd come soon. T wish™—and he raised himself \mn| mustache he is the chay Opening the door {1 beckoned A xoon. | “He's veally de- | his of the next re Jackson in. very ill; I'd better tell me. 1 |yvon what he wanis to see you ahont funny | He looked at me with that alr I'm | "You can’'t get at me whoever you breath, | may be.” ‘which belongs to the very | successful “Right-o!” he said. “Well?" | 1 described the situation. “He seems to think,” 1 ended, “that you'll be kind enough to charge yourself with his strave, in case he should dis “Is he really going to kick it?" e it here for \ do ask die o ze me. 7 he said; “I'm there’s nobody feeble excitement I wish you'd take that wire off the window: I want my “I'm afraid sc cats. She turned them out. I want| “H'm! ake them, and | hird! them with my a. Stray cats, you say, and a Well, there's no accounting. He Bully-boy. and feed was always a cracky little chap. So money, when I'm’ de: hu- | I'vesently there came the sound of a | And the landiady | For xuch an abrupt woman, | ina black | D._C. DECEMBER _26. 1926 - PART 5. wag worse | quiet at once; and pres- | first one und then another cat | | | | | | | little old | . | DONT LET _NIM.INIW‘\' FOR THAT, FLL HIT YOU IN THE quarter regular to this day. To tell truth, he deserved it. Thirty vears he was at our shop: never missed a night First-rate flite he was. He ought always heart after gone; it showed a bit of in him. If a man don't look number one, he's as gond as that's what T've always found. thought that's it! We pay him his five quid a | never to have given it up. though I|Why, 1 should not have heen worth a Historic Crossing of the Delaware Linked With the Christmas Season BY GEORGE PORTER. HE famous painting, ‘“Wash ington Crossing the Dela ware,” familiar to évery American, which has been more in- evidence than usual during this sesquicentennial year, ix seldom associated with Christmas Yet it should he, for it depicts the out standing event of one of the most im portant Christmases in our country’s history, Decembe 25, 1776—exactly 150 vears ago. Emmanuel Leutze, the artist, has been subject to much criticism for the many inaccuracies in his canvas, but they have not detracted from his work’s popularity, the picture being | rated by some authorities as the sec ond greatest or most admired Ameri can painting—the Stuart portrait of Washington. which was rescued by Dolly Madison from the White House in 1814, being classed first. Leutze was only using his painter's prerogative, the artistic equivalent of poetic license, when he portrayed The financial retu | it_possible for him to return to | rope. where he hecame a pupil | Lessing at Dusseldorf. From the beginning Leutze devoted himself almost exclusively to subjects of historical nature, and especially to those relating to the history and dis covery of America. It did not take him long to win recognition in the art circles of Furope. His firat note worthy production in the Old World was “Columbus Before the Council at Salemanca,” which was purchased by the Dusseldorf Art Union. A com panion picture, “Columbus in Chains." was awarded the gold medal at the Rrussels art exhibition and later pro cured by the Art U'nion of New York In 1845 Leutze made a tour of the art centers of Italy by way: of com pleting hix self imposed course of edu cation. Upon returning to Germany he married and made his home in Dusseldorf. While there he put forth his strongest bid for lasting fame by on canvas his conception of 1% from these made Eu of THE FAMOUS PAINTING, * By means of several able spies the American general was kept well in | formed as to the conditions in his | enemy’s camp. He learned that con | tinued success had made the Hessian | troops, who were stationed directly Aacross the river at Trenton, somewhat careless of their sentry sistem. He | knew, too, that those soldiers of King | George would have an uproarious | Christmas celebration, including much | feasting and drinking. as was their sustom in their fatherland. Such an observance of Yuletide would leave them in & semi-sober condition, which zave the Revolutionists every oppor- nity of succeeding with a surprise attack. “The big problem, and the one which worried Washington most, was how to get his men across the ice-choked Del- aware River. The commander-in-chief did not entirely succeed in overcoming this obstacle, as commonly sup- posed, for he divided his army into | three” parts, which were to have crossed at different places, but only ASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE.” lone of these detachments reached the | | tination, the village of Trenton. Al though it had been daylight for sev | eral hours, the Hessians were com- | pletely surprised. Their commander | was killed in the first onslaught, and the Americans captured over a | thousand prisoners in_less than a quarter of hour’s fighting. The Colonial forces sustained but five casualties, two of which were vietims | of cold and exposure. It was now the Revolutionists turn to celebrate Christmas, a day perhaps, but all the more heartily, for they had finally won their much- prayed-for victory. So it was unquestionably a decisive event in American history which Em- manuel Leutze planned to portray. That he gave some thought to ac- curacy of detail is indicated by his having Colonial uniforms and an American flag shipped to him from the United States. But the artist seems to have heen mainly concerned with making his canvas forceful and animated rather than absolutely his- torically correct. The result is one but brightened | | Washington standing up in an open boat in the face of raging blizzard an achievement which matterof-fact people point « manifestly im possibie, even for such an athlete as he Father of ilis Country. Then, again flag Leutze drew contains a conatel ars in its biue field, a e s a little prema- ture. for nd Stripe not a 14, 1777, months Jete carried on that ) night bore the combir eorge und St Andrew in its ¢ Not only ix the puinting inaccurate Washington crossing the Delaware. In preparation for this work the German-American_artist spent many days along the Rhine studying the flow of the stream and outlining ite banks. At the same time he made a painstaking study of Washington's face and of his career. The artist must have been a good student. Cer- tainly he seems to have been able to grasp the viewpoint of the man whom hie was to paint, for he could not have reproduced the incident so masterfully without a sympathetic and accurate knowledge of the conditions which his characters were facing. Although he was looking back over ut but life | duced He had been out of | tured have | terrible | i< there. she would say. | But she would look at me as If she | o . If you stop me I'll give you thought it’ might, and repeat devold of success, | old | been taken dangerously ill three days paintings “which struck in these detuils, stranger still in view of its popularity, It was not even made in Am ra. It was pro- in Germany on the banks of the Rhine. The latter river is pic- instead of the Delaware, and tizens were used for models by the artist in drawing the soldiers. The figure which is holding the flag ix Rald to bear a striking resembiance to Frederick the Great. But the spirit of the days of 'T6 It had been acquired by | the artist while spending the forma- tive vears of hix youth in this coun- [ try, whither he had heen brought by | his pavents shortly after his birth in Wurtemberg, Germany. in 1816, At the lLeutzes settled in Philadel- | phia, but soon moved to Fredericks burg, Va. The future painter's early | education was good, though not espe- | cially along artistic lines He gave his first evidence of talent with the brush and pencil while ut- tending the sick bed of hix father, | when he resorted to drawing and painting to while away the jong hours of waiting. The boy quickly acquired a fondness for such German nent American statesmen. cens. v Refusing (o he discouraged, Lentze persevered at his profession until 1840, the work and pro- jected a plan for publishing in Wash- ington a series of portraits of emi- scheme, however, met with little suc- a period of nearly 75 years, Leutze seems to have understood perfectly that the Christmas of 1776 was agy thing but a merry one for the Ame can Revolutionists. Their cause ap- peared hopeless. Their army had been doing nothing but retreat before a victorious foe for six months. The term of enlistment of most of the sol- ! dfers was about to expire, o that the {few thousand who till followed the colors were expected soon to disband. | "The Continental Congress was un- {able to back up the troops with money |and there was much discontent and | grumbling on all sides. The letters {of' Washington, Gen. Greene, Robert | Morri& and other leaders of the time |indicate that the Revolution had al- most collapsed ) The only element of hope in the dis- mal situation seems to have been that | France was considering coming to the financial and military ald of the dis- | tressed Colonies. The need of such {an ally was imperative, and it was | thought could be won if the Colonial [forces showed some Aghting spirit Hence the American leaders reasoned a military victory just at that time would be doubly important. | Washington, with his usual sagac- |ity, planned well. He was quartered The | with his scantily clad and poorly equipped army in Philadelphia. The Fnglish and Heasians were stationed Voung |in several widely scattered towns in | New Jersey, waiting for the Delaware when he produced some (River to freeze over, when they ex public | pected to march across and capture fancy and brought him many orders.- the Quaker Citi Jersey shore. Howevel the largest of the three, was com- manded by Washington himself and, as things turned out, proved to be ali that was necessary. During the morning of Christmas Day the river was clear of ice, but before noon it began to fill with thin cakes of floating ice which had drifted down from some of the Delaware's upper branches that had been frozen during an intense cold snap five days before. With the aid of a motley collection of boats that had been gathered dur- ing the previous week from the Dela- ware and Lehigh Rivers, the Colonists hoped to ferry all of their infantry, a few companies of cavalry, and 1% pieces of artiller s by midnight, allowing five hours of darkness in which to march to Trenton. Rut in spite of the fact that the crossing was begun as planned just after nightfall, it was not until four | o'clock in the morning that the task | was completed. An hour before mid night a severe storm of mingled snow and hall, and accompanied by a_high wind, had set in. This, combined with the swift current and jagged ice cakes, made the handling of the boats a slow and difficult job. The same regiment of seafaring men from Marblehead, Mass., which had saved the day when the little American Army retreated from lLong Island the previous August, is said to have piloted most of the boats through the maze of minature icebergs that fateful Christmas night. They found it especially hard to ferry over the horses and artillery. But in spite of all obstacles, the en- tire detachment wus finally safely landed on the Jersey side. This gave them new encouragement for they had successfully completed the most hazardous part of their project, and even though they were far behind their scheduled time, Washington and his men set out for Trenton In the most enthusiastic frame of mind they had enjoyed for many a . Marching with bleeding feet over slippery, deserted roads, they at lagt._came within- sight of. that one was of the most striking examples of the difference between a photograph and a_ picture that can be found any where. Leutze waited for Spring to come, and then, while the Rhine was choked with ice, sketched the floating wind- tossed cakes of ice, and the river's banks, hence our great American painting has as its background an ice- Jam on the Rhine. Critics say the entire “atmosphere” of the picture is German, attributing this partially to the fact that a Ger- man artist naturally puts German character into all he portrays—the same being true of the artists of every other nationality—and partially to the fact that, though Leutze took pains to secure correct colonial uni forms, he did not hesitate to dress ! Germans in them. The uniforms, by the way, were sent 1o the painter at the direction of a congressional com- mittee appointed to assist the artist in every way possible. Leutze apparently took justifiable pride in his work from the start. On May 11, 1851, he held a reception in hisstudio at’ Dusseldorf in honor of its completion. The Prince and Frincess of Prussia were among the distinguished guests present, and paid homage to the artist’s latest accomplishment in the most compli- mentary terms. The original canvas, from which thousands of copies have been made, measures 12 by 22 feet. It is now In the possession of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. After 14 vears' residence in Dussel- dorf, during which period he made several other well-known Revolution- ary pictures, including ‘‘Washington at Princeton,” ‘“'Sergeant Jasper” and “News From Lexington,” Leutze came back to the Ulnted States in 1859 and opened a studio in New York. The next year he was commissioned by the Government to paint a large mural picturs for the staire: in the Capitol Building at Washington. T! eubject chogen was “Westward the plum if T'd gone on his plan, that's certan.” And he gave that profound chuckle | which comes from the very stomach | of success. ““We were having a rocky time at the Harmony; had to cut down everything we could—music, well, that came about first. Little old Moronelli, as we used to call him—old Italian days before English names came in, you know—he was far the best of the flutes; so 1_went to him and said: ‘Look here, Moronelli, which of these other boys had better go?” ‘Oh! he sald—I remember his funny little old mug now—'has one of them to g0, Mr. Jackson? Timminsa'—that was t elder—'he’s a wife and family; and Smetoni'—Smith, you know—he's only a boy. Times are bad for flutes’ ‘I know it's a bit hard, I said, ‘but thie theater’s going to be run much cheap- er; one of ‘em's got to get.” ‘Oh! he said, ‘dear me!" he said. “Well—what do you think? Next day I had his resignation. Give vou my word I did my best to turn him. Why, he was 60 then At 60 a man don’t’ get jobs in a hurry. But not a bit of it! All he'd say was: ‘I shall get a place all right” But that's it, vyou know—he never did. Too long in one shop. I heard by accident he was on the rocks; that's how I make him that allowance. But that's the sort of hopeless chap he is—no idea of him- self. Cats! Why not? I'll take his old cats on; don’t let him worry about that, T'll see to his bird, too. If I can’t give 'em a better time than ever they have here, it'll be funny!” And, looking round the room, he again uttered that profound chuckl “Why, he was with us at the Ha mony 30 years—that's time, you know; I made my fortune in i “I'm sure,” I said, relief to him.” “Oh! Ah! That's all right. You come down to my place’—he handed me a card: “Mr. Cyril Porteous Jack- son, Ultima Thule, Wimbledon"—and see how I fix ‘em up. But if he's really going to kick it, I'd like to have a look at the little old chap just for old times’ sake.” We went into his room, where the landlady was gazing angrily at the cats. She went out without noise, flouncing her (head as much as to say: “Well, now you can see what 1 have to go through, sitting up here. I never get out.” Our little old friend was still in that curlous stupor. He seemed uncon- sclous, but his blue eves were not closed, staring brightly out before them at things we did not see. With his silvery hair and his flushed frailty, he had an unearthly look. Mr. Jack- son_whispere ““Well, he does look queer. Poor lit- tle old chap! You tell him I'll look after his cats and bird; he needn't worry. And now, I think T won't keep the car. Makes me feel a bit throaty, you know. Don't move; he might come to.” it'll be a great ® s * OME TIME I sat on there, wanting to deliver that message. An un- canny vigil in the failing light, with those five cats—yes, five at least. I was glad when the landlady came up and I could leave the message with her. at 6 o'clock. There was about her that sorrowful, unmistakable Impor- tance, that peculiar mournful excite- ment, which hovers over houses where death has entered. “Yes." she said, “he went this morn- ing. Never came round after you left. Would you like to see him? He went up. His face, as white now almost as his silvery head, had a radiance like that of a small, bright angel gone to sleep. No growth of hair, such as comes on most dead faces, showed on those frail cheeks that were now smooth and lineless as porcelain. And on the sheet above his chest the bull- finch sat, looking into his face. “I've got the cats in here’—she pointed to the room where Mr. Jack- son and 1 had talked—"all ready for that gentleman when he sends. But that little bird, I don’t know what to do; he won't let me catch him, and there he sits. It makes me feel all funn ® It had made me feel all funny, too. “He hasn't left the money for his funeral. Dreadful, the way he never thought about himself. i'm giad I kept him, though. And, not to my astonishment, she suddenly began to ery. > * * % % WIRE was sent to Mr. Jackson, and on the day of the funeral I went down to Ultima Thule, Wim- bledon, to see if he had carried out his_promise. He had. In the grounds, past the vinery, an outhouse had been cleaned and sanded, with cushions placed at intervals against the wall, and a little trough of milk. Nothing could have been more suitable or luxurious. “How’s that?” he said. “I've done it thoroughly.” But I noticed that he looked a little glum. “The only thing,” he said, “is the cats. First night they seemed all right, and, the second there were three of 'em left. But today the gar- dener tells me there’s not the ghost of one anywhere. It's not for want of feeding. They've had tripe and liver and milk—as much as ever they liked. And cod's heads, vou know-—they're very fond of them. I must say it's a hit of a disappointment tn me. As he spoke. a sandy cat which 1 perfectly remembered, for it had only half ‘of its left ear, appeared in the She opened the door to me next day | green eyes turned on us: then, hear ing Mr. Jackson murmur, ‘Puss, puss!” it ran for its life, slinking al- most into the ground, and vanished among some shrubs. Mr. Jackson sighed. “Perversitv of the brutes!” he said. He led me back to the house through a conservatory full of choice orchids. A gilt bird cage was hanging there, one of the largest I had ever seen, replete with every luxury the heart of bird could want. “Is that for the bulifinch?” I asked him. “Oh!" she sald, “didn’t you knew? 'he little beggar wouldn't let himself be caught, and the second morning, when they went up, there he lay on the old chap's body, dead. T thought it was very touchin’. But I kept the cage hung up for you to see that I should have given him a goBd time here. Oh, yes, Ultima Thule would have done him well!” The question I had long been wish- ing to ask him slipped out of me then: “Do you mind telling me why you alled your house Ultima Thule?” ‘Why?” he said. “Found it on the gate. Think it's rather distingue, don't you?” And he uttered his pro found chuckle, “First rate. The whole place Is the last word in comfort.” “Very good of you to say se, said. “I've laid out a goodish bit on it. A man must have a_warm corner to end his daye in. Ultima Thule, as you say—it isn't bad. There's suc. cess about it, somehow." __And with that word in my ears, and in_my eyes a vision of the Mttle old fellow in his Ultima Thule, with the bullfinch lying dead on a heart that had never known success, I trav- eled back to town. (Copyright. 1026.) . Oxygen in Bottles. XYGEN, like hot coffee or choco- late, may now be carried in ther- mos bottles. Aviators preparing to fly at high altitudes may now carry their oxygen supply in liquid form in these contain- ers and thus do away with the trans portation of heavy steel cylinders con taining the compressed gas. This is the invention of M. Garsaud of the French Academy of Sclences. Not only Is it easier to carry oxygen in this way, but larger quantities can he transported in a very small space The bottles are made of enameled metal and have two openings at the mouth, one leading the gasified oxy- gen into the mask worn by the avia- tor and the other for the passage of | & wire carrying an electric current. The electric current heats a tiny quartz lamp inside of the bottle and thus vaporizes the necessary amount of oxygen. The only inconvenience of the ap- paratus, M. Garsaud says, is splash- ing of the liquid oxygen in the bot- tle. This could cause explosion unless corrected by filling it loosely with as- bestos. Liquid air can be carried in these bottles for as long as six dave at a time. A Hole in the Sky. E astronomer, in discussing the remarkable dark lanes in his photographs of the nebula surround- ing the star Rho Ophiuchi and the apparent veiling of the more distant stare by thir and a neighboring nebula, calls attention to “a small biack hole in the akv,” which has | appeared on a number of his photo. graphs for a number of years. On account of its smallness and sharp ness, and its isolation, it is, he msavs, the most remarkable phenomenon of the kind with which he is acquainted. It is in the constellation Sagittarius, in right ascension 18 hours 25 min- utes 31 seconds, declination south 26 degrees 9 minutes. It lles, it s added, in an ordinary part of the Milky Way, and is not due to the presence or absence of stars, but seems really to be a marking on the sky itself. Food Fror:l Sawdmt A FEW years ago a German scien- tist _made the prediction, savs Popular Science Monthly, that even- tually men, after reading their morn- ing papers, would be able to treat the paper with chemicals and eat it, using as food the woody material contained in the newsprint. Today that strange forecast is near to coming true. In a recent report to the Soclety of Chemical Industry in England, Dr. W. R. Ormandy an- nounced the perfection of a re: k- able new chemical process for oen- verting dry sawdust into a mixture of sugars by treatment with hydro- chloric acid. One of the sugars is said to be ordinary glucose, or corn sugar, a substance suitable for human food. ‘This discovery is regarded by other sclentists as significant in view of the often repeated fears that the world is facing a critical food shortage. s Silent Rifle. SILENT rifle is_reported to have been invented by a Berlin lock smith. The new gun uses compressed air, carries 25 shots without reloading. and can be fired automatically. Recent tests in Germany are sald to have shown it capable of firing & bullet which will penstrate a tenth of an 3t 2000-yarde: 5