Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, November 25, 1899, Page 8

CHAPTER XXXIV. (Continued.) The rajah turned as if he had felt the point of a stiletto between his shoulders, At the first glance he recog- nized the newcomer, and exclaimed, in frightful rage: “George Malcolm!” ‘es; George Malcolm, who comes to rescue your prey!” ns bestow upon me a second vic- jah, in a fierce tin swered the burst of laughter. “You have pene- trated into my f ce, George Mal- colm. My palace shall be: your sepul- chre!” “Do you believe so?” For all response, Doorgal leaped to- ward the table and raised his hand to strike the bell; but already the young Englishn an had t n aim, and, hold- ing him under his fire, he said: “At last, Doo: Sahib, our roles are changed. Providenc v.hich protects us, has pu . You shall perish, and by my han¢ And, with his last word, the bullet from his revolver struck Doc hib in t rt. It was an é greatest imprudence. The mortally wounded; but a foreboding smile was on his white lips, and, with his last sigh, he articulated these words: “I die, but I die avenged. You ore Jost. George Malcolm!” And, in truth, the e pistol had given the the palace, and alr vlosion of the m throughout could be heard ‘ying feet and many An instant more, and the at hall would be filled with the retainers of the prince, who, finding an unknown beside the dead body of their lord, would kill him without mercy. It was on this Doorgal Sahib had re ned. A shiver ran through his body, and he expired. The fatal ending forseen by him appeared most probable, yet the countenance of Sir George Malcolm be- trayed no uneasiness. A moment long- er, and the crowd of valets and slaves, like a human sea, poured into the b At sight of this man, tawny as a tive, and standing beside Doorgal’s dead body, stretched in a pool of blood, a terrifying clamor arose. In this clamor mingled threats of death and the sound of da drawn from their sheaths. Always calm, always impassive, George Malcolm, supported Agnes under his left arm (locking more than ever like a corpse, whose living had walking with a firm step towards the crowd which opposed .themselves against him, he addressed them in ringing tones, stretching out to them his right hand on which glistened, with dazzling radiance, the diamond of the temple. “In the name of Bowhanie, whose ring I wear, fall on your knee he eried. “I am your master! It by the Queen’s order that I have struck Doorgal Sahib; it is also by her order that I give you this palace, and all the wealth that it contains!” “The ring of Bowhani the envoy of the goddess!” repeated the Hindoos, seized by superstitious reverence. “On your knees! on your knees!” And they prostrated themselves be- fore the Englishman, as had prostrated themselves the fakir, the Brahmins and the Thugs, 2 few hours previously in the gardens of Allahabad. With a slow and solemn step George passed through the crowd, who dared not raise their heads to contemplate him. Thus he gained the entrance through which he had introduced him- self into the palace, on hearing Agnes’ piercing cry of despair; and, near this entrance, stood Kazil, who uttered an exclamation of joy on seeing him ap- pear, holding the young girl in his arms. “The victims are saved!" murmured yeorge Malcolm. “Now for the guilty ones!” CHAPTER XXXV. The nigh was dark; the star of Kali shone above the highest peak of the mountains and the Cemetery of the E}- ephants. This sinister spot, which had been the terrible scene of Sir John Mal- colm’s assassination, appeared com- pletely deserted. Suddenly a human form, almost indistipguishable in the many shadows, penetrated the narrow defile which led from the plain into the sacred inclosure, glided among the rocks, avoided contact with the mighty skeletons, and reached the base of the statue of the god Siva. ‘There this form, or ratker this man, remained for several seconds, motionless, attentive, listening to the silence and questioning with his glance the depths of the cem- etery. Convinted by this examination that he found himself in the heart of pro- found silence, he drew from his belt a flint, a piece of steel and a morsel of tinder, which he proceeded to ignite. With this tinder he lighted fuse which he carried, and from which up- rose a shower of sparks accompariea by a hissing sound. The momentary brilliance disclosed its instigator to be no other than Sau- gor, tbe faithful servitor of the princ- ess. “For the English,” he murmured, “this luminous thread will be a shoow ing star; for our brothers, it is a sig- nal—the signal which tells them they may enter without danger into the Cemetery of the Elephants, where our Queen awaits the chiefs.” A noise of footsteps and yoices now made itself heard. Saugor again saying to himself: ‘Some one approaches! Doubtless it is they!” And he directed his steps toward the entrance, where he exchanged the pass word with each newcomer who suc- cessively passed him. d of about fifteen minutes Ss among the fanatics of Bowhanie were reunited in the ceme- tery, to the number of fifty or The princess then arrived, accompa nied by Jubbee, the great priestes “Jubbee,” murmured the former, as they crossed the defile, “the route has been long, but we touch the end!” “Siva and Bowhanie will protect us even to the end,” answered the priest- listened attentively, s!” commanded the » Who had taken her place on nite steps of the pedestal of the This order was instantly executed, and the red fiames of the torches of rosin vaguely fought the shadows of darkness in the vast enclosure. The priestess beckoned Saugor to approach, Are all jemadirs present?’ she I have counted all as they pa a," wered. “But one was wanting.” “Which cne “T do not know.” “How?’ cried the princess, ished. “Mistress, the darkness concealed from me the featur Each gave the s word, and I did not ask their names.” At this moment Djella caught sight of the Fakir Sounianc who ap- proached her. She made two steps to meet him, asking him, in a whisper: “Well, are they dead? i responded the goddess aston- Souniancy, is accom- “Princess,” “the will of plished.” g thus, he thought he uttere@ Believing George Mal- m to ha col ocd nee con- as to him r but, on her part, Djella inter- preted his response in a manner most rable to ber des and her soul overflowed with cruel joy. “Jubbee,” she said to the priestess, “my heart leaps with intoxication and pride! I am revenged, and I touch the instant of my triumph. My enemies exist no longer, and to-morrow I shall resume my place on the throne of my replied Jubbee, “to-morrow the Prineess Djella will reign queen over all India! To-morrow will flourish the race of the Tamerlides!” “Why is it that Rajah Doorgal Sahib is not near me?’ asked the princess. “Has he not yet arrived?” A moment's silence succeeded this question, then a voice answered from the crowd: “The Rajah Doogal Sahib will not come. He is dead!” Djella shuddered convulsively. “Dead!” she echoed, in dull tones. “Doubtless he is murdered!” “The envoy of the goddess has strick- en him in his palace, in the midst of his people,” contirued the voice, “and his blood has flowed to the last drop.” Djella made a gesture of horror, “If the envoy of the goddess has slain him,” she said, “he then, had of- fended ‘Bowhanie, and merited death. May his memory be accursed!” “Princess,” murmured the fakir, “the jemadars await com- mands.” “I will not let them wait,” she an- swered; and, advancing into the midst of the crowd, who made respectful obe- siance before her, she thus addressed them: “Children of Bowhanie, broth- ers of tke terrible work, the goddess approves our designs. She has given us itrefutable proof of this in allowing to appear to the priests and Brahmins, in the holy temple, the eldest son of the god Siva. He is to-night in our midst—present but invisible. “He will fight to-morrow in our ranks!” Murmurs of joy and cries of enthusi- asm, instantly repressed, broke forth among the natives. The princess continued: “The day so long anticipated dawns at last! The hour for retribution strikes. Since the English race has set its foot upon our territory, daring to inscribe upon its flag these three words, ‘East Indian Company,’ it has usurped our wealth, arrogated our pow- er, humiliated our culture, insulted our gods. Hypocritical and servile in the beginning, it first—more than a cent- ury ago—commenced by building a fort that commanded the city. After hav- ing built the fort, it wished to possess the city. After having taken the city, the surrounding country was neces- sary. First it conquered the plain, then the mountain. To be sure of Cal- cutta it were well to possess Bengal. ‘To assure the possession of Bengal, others might not remain independent. Fatal law! Conquest begets conquest, as evil begets evil. The East Indian Company has grown little by little. It still grows! It will continue to grow. It engulfs us; it absorbs us! India is no more ours. It is England's. It must be that the giant yields. We must sti- fle it! Are you ready?” “We are ready!” exclaimed every voice. “The signal—give us the sig- nal!” “I am about to give it. It is mid- night, At the first break of dawn let the work, of extermination begin; let blood form streams; let the streams be made torrents; let the torrents be made rivers.” “Yes, yes!” cried the natives, seized with fierce madness. ‘‘Blood—every- where blood!” The voice of the princess soundea like the clarion to battle, while she fin- ished her speech with this terrible ex hertation: | “Thugs and Phansigars, employ ruse = the queen's airmen eS Mm? strangle, your knives cut, your torches burn! Glide as serpents, leap as pan- thers! May Siva, God of evil, conduct i 4 t % THOUGHTS FOR THANKSGIVING TAS AR AR TAR AR AR TAR IR AR AR AIR IR IR RR IR IR IR AIR IR I WAR AR FRESE SRST and force. Strike all! Let your cords |VUNCLE EZRA’S THANKSGIVING. Yep, Thanksgivin’ Day is playin’ out, er so it seems to me, you! “Phe priestess, now, will bless | Fer it don’t make no comparison to your weapons.” The Hindoos prostrated themselves, lifting above their heads their lassoes and their daggers, while, in a slow, se norous yoice, Jubbee pronounced this invocation: Siva, god of hate and vengeance, brother of Bowhanie, and father of Kali, thy faithful servants implore thee give them skill and strength, and make them victorious. In thy name, I bless their arms!” She extended her hand over the keeling |, Who rose, cry “Glory to Siva!” “And now,” resumed Djella, “let the last Englishman perish and die, as on this spot perished § John Malcolm It must be that within three days India shall be free!” “Yes, free from you bandits!” an- swered a voice of thunder, which made Djella start in sudden fear and amaze. The next instant the statue of the god, falling, broken from its pedesta}, showed George Malcolm, standing up- right, a revolver in each hand. Before this n, strange, unexpect- ed, incomprehensible, the natives re- coiled. . “He, he! And livir princes: % “George Malcolm!” echoed the fakir. “Death to him!” “Yes, death! a r stammered the echoed Djella. “In 3owl e's name, slay him!” At this command, issued by their queen, naticism replaced surprise and terror, Breaking out into clamor, the Hin- doos were about to throw themselves upon him, when on every le the rocks heaped up about the inclosure at the fcot of the cliffs, appeared to be- come animate. “Each block of granite, by 2 mnetamorphosis, bec dier, and all, throwing fr painted cloth by whose aid they had been enabled to play the role of rocks, wrrounded disarmed them, same time, from a deep cave in the side of the cliff, emerged Sir Edward Malcoln, Dieudonne, Lord Singleton, Kazil and Stop. “Hurrah!” shouted the English, n!” he said to him, “at last you are in my clutches!” Djella threw about her a_ fierce glance, in which shone all her vain fury and all her powerless hatred. “Conquered!” she murmured. “Ah, at least I shall not see their triumph!” And, drawing a dagger from her belt, she was about to plunge it into her heart, when Kazil, gliding behind her, seized her hand and drew from it the weapon. “Not so, madame. Justice must be done!” “Help, Saugor!” exclaimed the princ- ess The Hindoo heard this appeal, and wrenched himself from Stop’s hold; but the valet, placing a pistol to his | temple, detained him w hese words: “One step, and you die Saugor became motionless. At this moment Djella made an abrupt move- ment, and on her pale face was depict- ed a new depth of rage and hatred. Before her she saw Agnes and Hera, who had just left the cave. | “They, also!” she stammered. “Who has saved them?” “The God of the Christians, ma- dame,” answered Kazil. “He has fought ycur idols with their own weap- ons. The veil and ring of Bowhanie ; have made Him victorious in rendering you blind.” “Here are your victims, madame,” said George Malcolm, in his turn. “They are here, unharmed and free. One, alas, cannot return. But Jolin Malcolm is not wholly dead. I have kept my oath—I have finished his work —and my father is revenged!” “In the name of a grateful England,” exclaimed Lord Singleton, “I proclaim that you have accomplished great things, and promise you a_ reward worthy of you!” “My reward, my lord, is here,” he an- swered, extending his hand toward Agnes. “Is it not of all guerdons the sweetest and most beautiful?” The sisters threw themselves into his arms. “George, we biess you!” said Hera. “George, we love you!” whispered Agnes. “Long live England!’ shouted Stop. Dieudonne replied, srying: “Long live France!” “And glory to God, the Ayenger!” murmured George, lifting hig eyes te heaven. (The End.) Sreraemntes ery Not That! Bit j This was actually heard in the” Cracker district of Tennesse¢fWyy ‘The mother shout 4 her ed from §BBidoor of the cabin behind the trees: @4% ) “Yank Tyson! Tim Tyson!? ‘ eried, “What yu'uns doin’? ee Two little boys raised thir heads over a barrel three hundred yards down the mountain. ‘¥oolin’,” was the reply. “Be yu’urs smokin’ ?” ¥Ye’um “Be yuwuns chawin'?’ “Ye’um.” “Be yu'uns chawin’ twist an’ smokin’ cob pipe?” “Ye’um.” *“That’s right. But if yo’ let me kotch | yo’ smokin them cigareets, I'll gi’ yo° th’ wust lammin’ yo’ ever had in yo lives. Yo’ heah yo’ ma?” “Ye'um.”—Detroit Free Press. A Tragedy in Plaids. “Miss Jigger and I have fallen out; for good.” “What was tke trouble?” “She wanted me to wear a waistcoat o) match her parasol.”—Chicago Ree-; ord. what it use’ to be; Though the turkey and the «mince pies is the’ same we've alw’ys known, An’ I’m here, an’ Sary Ellen, but we’re eatin’ ’em alone, It's the buildin’ of the railroads thet hes made it that-a-way— Thet hes tuck our children from us an’ hes sp’ilt our holiday— Holdin’ out their wild shameeries about lan’s that can’t be beat (But whar cyclones digs the taters, an’ whar chinch bugs mows the wheat), Why, it use’ to be thet youngsters didn’ seem to want to go From the homestead of the ol’ folks BUT WE'RE EATING ’EM ALONE. any more’n a mile er so; They ’ud take things ‘twas given ’m, an’ they'd settle thar an’ stay, An’ they’d fill the homestid table when it come Thanksgivin’ Day. Law me! yes, them times is ended! Little Sary married fust, An’ Jim Medders ‘lowed he'd take her out to Idyho er bust, An’ he bustid, an’ I’ve ben a-sendin’ money ever sence, Though it’s more fer little Sary thet I care than the expense. An’ then Chrissy went to Texas— Chrissy alw’ys was our pride, But he headed off some cattle, an’ he hurt his spine an’ died. An’ now Sammy’s in the city, an’ that ain’t so fur away, But he’s writ us that a baby’s brought ’em their Thanksgivin’ Day! So we narrered down the table, bein’ by ourselves, you see, An’ the turkey’ll las’ forever, jes’ fer Sary an’ fer me; An’ the raisins in the mince pie, bought fer Sammy’s_ special taste, Sence he didn’t come to eat ’em, sorter seem to be a waste, Yep, the railroads tuck ’em from us, an’ we're all alone at last, An’ Thanksgivin’s like I told yeh, jest a mem’ry of the past; But we’re countin’, me an’ Sary, on a better place, an’ then We will have a big Thanksgivin’, an’ the childr’n home again. A. B. P. HIS THANKSGIVING. Tinkle-tinkle, tinkle-tinkle, tinkle- tinkle. The leading man engaged in an at- tempt to remove a black spot from his dress cravat by means of an epplica- tion of white grease paint, paused and listened. " “It’s a mandolin,” he said. “That’s a new wrinkle, We’ve had all kinds of fiends in this company since we started out, everything from cigarettes to bi- cycles. Who’s the musician, I wonder? Oh, I say, Jenks! Jenks! Who's the band wagon?” There was a step in the narrow pas- sageway that led to the dressing rooms, and Jenks, the property man, appeared in the doorway. “Sh!” he said, “not so loud. The old man’ll hear you.” The leading man started. “The old man, did you say—not Merriam?” “Yes, Merriam,” in a whisper. The leading man sat on his trunk. “That beats me,” he said. “The An- cient Mariner tinkling a mandolin. Now I’m prepared to see Father Time playing sentimental ditties on a jew’s harp.” Jenks did not laugh, a fact which helped to sober the other man. “It’s no surprise to me,” said the property man, gravely. “I says to Mrs, Jenks just before I left the hotel, says I, ‘Mrs, Jenks, you know what night this is?’ ‘Thanksgiving,’ she says. ‘Why, right,’ says I, ‘and it'll be a hard night for Merriam.’ “Poor old man,’ says Mrs. Jenks, a-wipin’ of a tear. ‘Poor old man, I suppose he'll be playing of his mando- lin again.’ ‘That he will,’ says I. “He hasn’t missed it, as near as I can judge, for thirty years. As sure as Thanksgiving night comes, just so sure he gets out that old mandolin of his and tinkles away. <And it’s always the same tune. God! But it does make my mind go back. I'll never for- get the first time he played it. You see, me and Merriam have heen to- gether, off and on, so long that I knew his story most as well as he does him- self. Not that he ever talks avout it. To-night, after the show, that instru- ment ’Il go back to the bottom of his trunk, and it won’t come out again till this time next year.” The leading man was all ears. “Thirty years ago I was stage door- keeper at the old California theater. Now, the stage doorman ain’t so.un- important as some folks think. There’s mighty little goes on that he don’t know something about. He gets the flowers first, and he usually sees the cards. He’s a good friend to the actor when the actor’s a friend to him, and he can do a favor now and then that’s worth the while. “Merriam was just beginning to climb up the ladder in those days. He had come into the stock three years before as utility, but he was a hand- some chap, with brains and ambition to back his good looks, and it wasn’t long before he got to playing leads. Say, when Merriam went on as Romeo at the matinees you couldn’t see threo rows in front ef you for the bonnets. Mrs.. Jenks used to live in a regular garden those days, for Merriam wouldn’t have none of the flowers the silly girls used to send him. When I’d offer to bring them home to him he’d laugh, and tell me he reckoned my wife cared more for flowers than he did. “But I often noticed that he came into the theater with a big bunch of violets or roses that he’d bought him- self to give to the little woman who played opposite parts to him. I asked him once why he didn’t give her the flowers the girls sent him, instead of spending money that way. I took a kind of fatherly interest in Merriam in those days. Lord bless you, to look at him now you'd think he was my grandfather. He looks that old. “Well, I seen how things was going with him and Nellie Moore, and every- body else seen it, too. When she was on the stage he stood in the wings, and his eyes followed every move she made. I remember one of the women saying that it was worth while to have a man care for you like that, and cer- tainly Nellie seemed to like it, She came to me one afternoon—that Thanksgiving I’m telling you about— and said that she was too tired to go home after the matinee. She asked me if I’d run across the way and order dinner for her, Then she whispered in my ear that she wanted it served for two, and asked if I couldn't fix a bunch light on the stage, so she and Merriam could have a cozy Thanksgiv- ing dinner all alone. “Of course I done it for her, and while they were eatin’ I went over to my boardin’ house. There was to b2 I WANT YOU TO LEARN IT. a change of bill that night, so I came back early to get my props in shape, as I had them to attend to as well as looking after the door. When I came back to the theater I heard Nellie Moore playin’ a mandolin. She was’ always fond of music and carried the instrument around with her. “ ‘Now you try,’ she said,.and Mer- riam answered that he didn’t know a note. “T’ll teach you,’ she said. ‘There’s an air I want you to learn and remem- ber.’ “All right,’ said Merriam, and he took the mandolin from her. She showed him where to place his fingers and kept humming the tune until he could play it with only one or two breaks. Then she went to her dress- ing room to get ready, and Merriam sat there . thrumming until the half hour was called. “That night there was a good deal of hand-shaking, and the word went around that there was to be a weddin’ at Christmas. “The next night on my way to the theater I noticed a crowd around the stage door, and heard talk of a run- away. I hurried up, and as I did 80: Merriam came out, his face as white as a ghost’s. “For God’s_ sake, Jenks!’ he cried. “I rushed to the nearest drug store, and, luckily, found one there. When we got back to the stage door Merriam was waiting, and, without a word, he led us to a sofa in the wings on which Nellie Moore was lying. The doctor bent down over her for a minute, shook his head and said he was too late. “An understudy played Juliet that night and Merriam as usual was the Romeo, The audience didn’t know the get a doctor, tomb scene I don’t see how they help feeling it. se “Those of us who saw it from the ~ wings will never forget it. The women were in hysterics and the stage hands and flymen were nearly as bad, I don’t know how Merriam ever lived through it, but this I do know. He was a dif- ferent man from that night. He seemed to lose all his ambition and he withered up so, that when I met him at a rehearsal two years later, I hardly knew him. He was bent much as you see him now, and was playing char- acter old men. down further, until they wouldn’t trust him with anything better than bits and servants. Yes, sir, and that old of them.” . The story was finished, but the man- dolin still tinkled. The leading man’s face was drawn, and Jenks sat think- ing. Perhaps the former was thinking of his own high tide of prosperity, and of what the future had in store for him. But sympathy and _ curiosity are clesely allied, and soon the two men were tiptoeing through the passage- way, They paused before the old act- or’s room. A ray of light filtered’ through a crack in the thin pine door. Merriam was dressed and made yp for A CROWD AROUND THE STAGE DOOR. a comedy servant. His green livery coat hung on a peg on the wall, and the red wig with which he covered his own white hair lay on the dressing table before him. There, too, was a faded photograph of a pure-faced girl in the dress of Juliet. The actor was bent over his mandolin and the lead- ing man now caught the tune for the | first time, broken, but recogniza>"e...- “When other hearts and other lips Their tales of love shall tell, Then you'll remember, you'll -emem- ber——" Twang! There was the sound of a broken string. “First act! All up for the first act!” The callboy came tumbling down the passage and the listeners hurried up to the stage. A few minutes later the callboy came up, too, and he found the stage manager fuming. “Where’s Merriam?” he cried. can’t hold the curtain all night for that# doddering old fool. will you?” The boy disappeared, and reappeared almost instantly. 7 ae “Mr. Merriam’s——” The tears choked his voice and he got no further, The stage manager made a rush for the stairs. Ten minutes later he came up dressed for the comedy servant, but the man whose name was down on the bills for the part lay in his dressing room clutching an old man- dolin, with his eyes fixed on a faded photograph. The Soldiers in Battle. It is not easy for the hearts in darkened rooms today, mourning sons and brothers to see God’s face in the gloom, and if we give thanks for brave men and brave deeds, for the heroism that faced-death unflinching- ly in the trenches or on the seas, it should be in humility, that the worla? has not progressed far enough in God’s way to be relieved of the curse of war, but we can be unreservedly thankful for the .voices that have rung out in all the land for peace. Let us be thank- ful that never before have so many ‘| men and women been pleading for the right in defiance of the wrong. Never before have so many thoughtful ones faced the evils of the times, the great underlying causes of sin and misery, and sought to solve the knotty quese tions of our modern civilization, Servants at Dinner. Thanksgiving dinner in the hall. The butler and housek the head and foot of the table. ‘eal reason for the change, but in the ; Every year he dropped »# man has played Romeo with the best ss ' “TY Hurry him up, ‘ J — |