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*
:
An American Nabob.
A Remarkable Story of Love, Gold and
Adventure.
* By ST. GEORGE RATHBORNE
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Copy rich L. by Sthhht A SMITH, Now York.
4 4444444444444444
CHAPTER VI.—(Continued.)
McGregor made a proposition to the
effect that his principal should be en
titled to at least one shot in practice
before the affair came on the carpet—
as Livermore was familiar with the
handling of the firearms, he certainly
had an advantage, and it would be
only fair to give Overton a chance to
see how the weapon upon which he
was about to stake his life did its
work.
To this the others readily agreed,
and Jack glancing around for some
mark, discovered a Bparrow upon a
branch fully as distant as his antago
nist would be when the word came to
fire.
“Ah!" he remarked, “I have found a
mark almost half as large as a human
heart."
He fired almost instantly, and the
mangled bird fell to the ground, while
the McGregor whistled a bar or two
from "The Campbells Are Coming,"
and Livermore's second looked very
serious.
Then the conditions of the duel were
gone over.
The two principals were to be sta
tioned at the posts selected, within
easy pistol shot, and their backs turn
ed toward each other.
At a given signal they were to
wheel and advance directly toward
each other, the privilege to fire being
open from that instant.
One advantage would come to the
man who got in his shot first, provid
ed he hit his mark, but if he missed,
heaven help him, for the other had
the privilege of walking up as close
as he pleased and delivering a murder
ous fire.
When these arrangements had been
made the principals walked to their
stations and received their weapons,
together with a last word of advice
from their seconds.
Then they were left alone, facing
each other.
Overton could feel his heart pound
ing away like a miniature trip ham
mer, and he held out his arm with
some uneasiness, but smiled to find It
as firm as a rock—not a tremor or
quiver of the slightest description—
really it looked bad for Livermore,
who perhaps had met with the most
astonishing perils during his adven
turous life, and finally came home to
find his Sedan.
At McGregor's command the two
duelists turned back to back, with the
arm holding the pistol dropped down
at their sides.
“Men, are ye baith ready?” he de
manded. as though about to open a
sprinting race or some other innocent
game of sport.
“Ready!” came from the traveler,
quickly.
“Ready!" echoed Overton, between
his teeth.
“Then, gang awa', and the God o’
battles decide the day,” roared the ex
dragoon.
Both men whir'ed around, and the
dueling pistols came up to a level.
Neither fired at once, but began to
advance, while the onlookers—includ
ing an almost paralyzed rustic with a
pitchfork over his shoulder, on the
way to some field of labor—held their
very breath in suspense.
Two. three, four paces for each—the
distance had been horribly narrowed,
and as yet. not a shot.
It looked like murder—as though
both of them must fall when the final
exchange of compliments took place.
McGregor would have given all he
owned for the privilege of bawling out
to his man—he believed Jack was los
ing his best chance—that he had the
other at his mercy, and was a fool not
to get in the first shot; but such an act
on the part of a second would have
been a gross breach of the etiquette
governing such affairs, and he dis
creetly remained silent.
Then with stunning abruptness
came the sharp report of a pistol, and
the McGregor groaned as he saw the
smoke oozing from the barrel of the
leveled weapon clutched in the rigid
hand of Livermore.
CIIAI’TKR VII.
How the Duel Ended.
With his heart in his throat the Mc
Orogor, after discovering that the shot
proceeded from the pistol of the vet
eran traveler, flashed his eyes toward
Overton. Jack turned his face for a
second toward his friend—it was color
less from the intense nervous tension,
but over it had shot a terrible grim
smile, such as could only be born of
complete triumph - he knew the life of
his hated rival wns in his hands.
Livermore, of course, had stood in
his tracks after his llasco. His bronzed
feature gave no sign of fear, though
naturally enough he had set his teeth
to meet the dread summons, as be
came a man. He had had his chance
and lost—the game was In Overton's
hands, and there could be no appeal
from the stern arbitrament of arms..
And Jack—-a whirlwind of fancies
played riot in his mind and heart—the
man he hated with such bitterness,
who had stolen away the girl whom he
had almost looked upon as his wife
forever and aye—this favorite of for
tune was now in his power, and a pres
sure of the finger alone was needed to
end his career.
Fedora would th n be free and he—
but, stop; suppose he killed Livermore.
Would that act bridge the abyss be
tween Fedora and himself On the
contrary, would It not render it for
ever impassable?
His whole nature revolted at the
thought of killing his rival In cold
blood—this was not the kind of re
venge for which his spirit yearned—
and even at this dreadful moment of
suspense, when angel and devil seem
ed to struggle within for the mastery,
somehow the gentle, earnest face of
little Mazette, the portrait painter,
flashed before his vision.
Then suddenly, without^the least
warning Overton raised hi® arm until
the pistol covered the upper branches
of a tree, and. discharging the weapon,
tossed it to the feet of hia antagonist,
whirled on his heel and walked away.
The good angel had triumphed—he
refused to accept the life the gods had
given him.
The McGregor, breathing out mutter
ings of discontent, chased after his
principal. To his rather brutal soldier
mind Jack was a fool to stand the fire
of a man who had wronged him, and
then throw away the golden opportun
ity for revenge which the fickle god
dess of fortune had placed in his
hands.
McGregor could not comprehend the
delicate nature of the affair—he be
lieved that if the doughty captain, who
had perhaps bewitched Jacks sweet
heart in some mysterious manner, had
only been disposed of. so that he might
not appear upon the stage again, Over
ton would have clear sailing in the
matter.
Alas! the situation was far more
complicated.
Overton knew a condition and not a
theory confronted him—that Fedora
had been dazzled by the evidences of
wealth around her—that she loved
dress and diamonds and luxurious ease
more than she had ever loved him,
even in that fool's Paradise when, like
a couple of children, they had indulged
in beautifully romantic dreams of the
future—that evanescent Fata Morgana
that appears to all sailors who venture
upon the sea of love.
But one faint hope remained—would
Fedora listen to the still, small voice
within and thrust the temptation
aside?
Strange how we cling desperately to
the last straw when our boat sinks un
der us.
They entered the great city and final
ly pulled up at a chop house, where,
having dismissed the chuckling cabby,
they had breakfast together. Overton
still had little to say, though ho kept
up a tremendous thinking, and when
the meal was over the McGregor shook
him solemnly by the hand, saying In
parting:
“As I taul ye before, laddie, if ye
need a braw frien’ came to Donald Mc
Gregor. I'm sore afraid ye did wrang
to let the glllee off, but ye ltnaw best.
Aweel, aweel, let it gang. Nae doot
I’ll see ye later, mon. In peace or war,
then call on the McGregor.”
CHAPTER VIII.
Mazette.
Overton settled down into a rut,
waiting and working by fits and starts
upon his picture. During these weeks
he lived from hand to mouth, selling
an occasional ‘‘pot boiler” for a pit
tance that just managed to keep the
wolf from the door.
Days glided into weeks. He worked
spasmodically, wandered about Lon
don. dreamed of mighty things that he
could do if invested with the touch of
Midas, and sometimes spent an even
ing with Mazette and her aunt.
These social events always had a
salutary effect upon Overton, and many
times he breathed blessings upon the
little miniature painter for her sister
ly affection, as he was pleased to con
sider it. which soothed him in such a
wonderful manner. ,
His painting was complete.
As he stood in front of it he knew it
was a masterpiece that must without a
doubt bring him both fortune and
glory.
Oh! if she would but only wait un
til the day when all London echoed
with his name, and it would be an
honor to know him.
But the hero of many an African and
Indian border foray was impatient in
his wooing, since he had reached an
age when a man must needs make
haste if he expects to shake off the
thralldom of bachelorhood and tak'j
upon himself the vows and duties of a
benedict, since the older he grows the
more difficult it becomes to assume
new obligations.
When Overton read in the Times that
the wedding was to occur on the next
Thursday evening at a fashionable
church he seemed turned into stone
for a time. He became moody, almost
sullen. He avoided those friends who
had been of late such a comfort to him.
Mazette chanced to meet him on the
street—perhaps the use of that word
can hardly be allowed, since she pur
posely went cut of her w'ay to pass
near his lodgings in the hope of seeing
him, for the article concerning Fe
dora's coming marriage had caught
her eye, too, and she began to fear for
Jack again.
When she saw him so moody and ap
parently at cross purposes with the
whole world, she felt very bitter tc
ward Fedora, and had it been in her
power Just then to remedy JtatterB,
even at the expense of pain to nerself,
Aiuzette would have only too gladly
done so, for Jack married to Fedora
anl happy waa tar better than Jack I
miserable, despondent and devoid of
ambition.
The fatal evening came.
Jack had grimly made up hie mind
he would by hook or crook witness she
ceremony that was to darken hlB life
and take from him the girl he had so
long looked upon as his Inspiration.
Knowing that a fashionable audi
ence would fill the church, and that
admission without a card would be
difficult, he made friends with the or
ganist and managed to get an invita
tion to occupy a seat in the loft.
Mazette insisted on accompanying
him—at first he had been appalled by
the thought of another witnessing his
mute suffering, but she was so per
sistent. and her sweet presence al
ways served to arouse his better na
ture. so finally he gave a reluctant con
sent.
When the organ pealed out the wed
ding march from “Lohengrin," Over
ton shut his teeth hard and waited the
coming of the white procession that
started down the aisle, flower girls
strewing the way with rare blossoms.
Fedora looked like a dream—her ap
pearance would haunt him to his dying
day.
And Livermore was very handsome
in his dress suit—he appeared very
proud, and had eyes for no one but the
beautiful woman who knelt before the
chancel rail beside him and vowed to
“love, honor and obey."
When Overton heard this he seemed
to feel a change come over him—he
knew it was false, for, loving him,
how could she truthfully promise to
give to her husband the affection it im
plied?—his faith in womankind was
dead, he believed, forever, and from
that hour he could never believe in the
sex again.
Toward the close of the ceremony
Fedora raised her hitherto downcast
eyes, as if drawn by the subtle power
of Jack's stern gaze, and looked Into
his face.
As if an arrow had pierced her heart
she turned pale and shuddered, nor did
she dare raise her eyes again.
Perhaps she even dreaded lest the
man whom she had so cruelly jilted,
whose devoted heart she had cast
away after it was of no further use
to her, as one might a worn-out glove,
might in his righteous anger do some
thing desperate—such things have
been known ere now in high life.
Altogether those last few minutes of
the ceremony that should have been
the proudest and happiest in her whole
life were the most miserable, and she
endured a small portion of the same
suffering her act had brought upon
Overton.
All was over!
The wedding procession was passing
down the aisle to renewed strains of
joyous music. Perhaps those who
were near enough to notice wondered
why the happy and envied bride
should turn her head and look in a
half eager, half frightened way toward
the altar—they could not know that
remorse was already beginning to goad
her heart, and that the memory of
that white, set, agonized face in the
organ loft would come before her with
reproaches every day of her life, while
the bitter accusations of a murdered
conscience must many times drive her
to tears when surrounded by all the
beautiful things that generally go to
make the sum total of a fashionabld
woman’s happiness, and to possess
which she had betrayed her own heart.
When Jack went out of the church,
after the butterfly audience had rolled
away In their swell turnouts, he was
taciturn; but his step had an elasticity
Mazette had not noticed for many a
day. He accompanied Mazette to her
home, but declined entering the humble
abode.
(To be continued.)
EVILS OF THE LONDON FOG.
Experiments Which Tenil to Show That
It la lloat Destructive.
Some unofficial experiments carried
out at Chelsea during the recent fog,
according to Sir William Thiselton
Dyer, the director of Kew Gardens,
showed that in a week six tons of solid
matter were deposited on a square
mile. They included not only soot but
a variety of tarry hydro-carbons, high
ly Injurious to animal and vegetable
life.
Adopting the postofflce telephone
area of GOO square miles, this means
that the metropolis labored under a
weight of 3,600 tons of this dreadful
compound before the wind wa3 strong
enough to carry it to another part of
the country. The other part of the
country might be the Berkshire downs,
where Sir William Richmond has
sometimes seen a solid bank of fog
creeping up from the east. There they
call it London dirt.
Another Instance of the destroying
power of the London fog was supplied
at the meeting of the Coal Smoke
Abatement Society recently by Pro
fessor Church, who exhibited an evil
looking object, two inches thick,
which had recently been chipped off
the molding of the gallery outside the
great dome of St. Paul’s. This deposit
covers most of the building where
water penetrates, and it only contains
1 per cent of soot, the remainder com
prising chemical products which are
most pernicious to Portland stone.
Professor Church also has a griev
ance against the fog as the enemy of
oil paintings. So great indeed is the
injury which soot and smoke do to art
as well as nature that it is rather sur
prising a society has not been formed
for the promotion of fog.—London
Chronicle.
Germany's Modern Schools.
Germany is now the best-educated
nation of Europe, yet only hundred
of years ago German t cachets in many
parts of the country were so poorly
paid that they used io sing in front of
houses in order to add to their income
by odd pence.
NEEDS OF THE SOUTH
SIGNS OF AN ECONOMIC WAKENING
PLAINLY VISIBLE.
Democratic Newspaper* Arc Beginning
to Conilder the Value or the Principle
of Protection at Applied to Southern
Industry and Agriculture,
A number of newspapers published
in southern cities are engaged in a dis
cussion which is certain to be product
ive of good results. It is a healthful
sign when Democratic newspapers in
that part of the country fall to discuss
ing tariff matters as related to the in
terests and welfare of their own peo
ple. That Is what is now going on. It
should be kept up. Southern people
are, as a rule, averse to taking their
political cues from Republican newspa
pers, but they are willing to receive
argument when advanced by journals
of their own political faith. In this
way they are ready to absorb some
new ideas on the tariff question—Ideas
new to them, but very old and very
strongly in favor in other parts of the
country.
A considerable portion of the Demo
cratic press of the South seems to have
awakened to the fact that the Repub
lican doctrine of protection to domes
tic labor and industry is worth while
considering, in spite of the fact that it
is Republican doctrine. These newspa
pers have begun to suspect that the
protective tariff is not a sectional affair
—not, as Calhoun used to preach, after
he turned free trader, a device for the
enrichment of the North at the expense
of the south, but a policy which builds
up and benetlts all parts of the coun
try. We find evidences of this gratify
ing discovery in a recent issue of the
Charleston News and Courier, a rock
ribbed Democratic paper, as follows:
“The Louisiana delegation, it need
not be said, is wholly consistent with
itself in supporting the application of
the Dingley tariff to the products of
the foreign Philippines, and it is right
besides. There is no justice in the ag
ricultural sugar interests of the South
and West being butchered to make a
reciprocity holiday for the manufactur
ing interests of the East. And the del
egations from Western beet states will
doubtless be forced to be of the same
mind. Let well enough alone; or, if
the holy tariff must be scaled, let It be
scaled even.”
Commenting on this expression the
New Orleans Item says:
“This is in line with Senator McLau
rin's views and indicates that since
South Carolina has become the fore
most cotton manufacturing state of the
South, her views are getting back to
those entertained by John C. Calhoun
before the days of slavery agitation.
And yet, notwithstanding the necessity
for a protective duty to defend and
build up our cotton mills, we find ev
ery Democrat In the house except three
Louisianians voting to break down the
tariff wall and let the products of a
hundred fertile islands and ten mil
lions of cheap laborers into the United
States in competition with our sugar
and cotton."
The “Item” then proceeds to remind
the Democrats of the Southern states
that they are badly and wrongly repre
sented on the tariff question in con
gress. It points out that the cotton
grower is as much interested in a pro
tective tariff as the sugar grower.
Even with the present 40 per cent duty
on cotton goods there is an import
from foreign mills of fifty million dol
lars’ worth of cotton goods annually.
If this tariff were removed every cot
ton mill of the South would go to ruin
and the labor which has been collected
by them in comfortable and prosperous
villages would be scattered to the
wind. As soon as our market is left
open to the free competition of Great
Britain and Germany the mills of Eu
rope would fix the price of cotton, and
our friends would then see the cotton
planter not nearly, but entirely, in the
hands of the sheriff. How much cotton
the Philippines can grow is not yet
known, but it is certain that it can be
grown in those islands with native and
Chinese labor, as easily as it is now
grown in China. In the olden days we
used Nankin, or nankeen, as it was
called, in this country, for clothing,
and with the tariff wall removed we
may again find it cheaper to get cot
ton goods from Nankin and Manila.
The New Zealander, casting his nets
from the ruins of London bridge, was
looked upon as an amusing absurdity
of Macauley’s, but it is not beyond the
bounds of credulity to Imagine the
slant-eyed Munilans selling sugar and
cotton.
Quite in the same vein the New Or
leans “Picayune,” a stanch Demo
cratic newspaper, resents the action of
Southern Democrats in Congress in re
fusing to act with Louisiana's repre
sentatives in defending Southern agri
cultural and industrial Interests against
the unfair competition of cheaper labor
in the Philippines, in Cuba, or any
where else. Says the “Picayune”:
“If raw sugar were allowed to come
in from abroad free of duty, the sugar
producers of Louisiana and the West,
not being able to compete with the
sugar of Europe and the tropics, made
with pauper labor, would be driven out
of business; but since the raw sugar,
as it is imported, has to be refined in
order to fit it for use, it would get to
the Sugar Trust two cents cheaper; but
there is no evidence that it would
reach the consumers any cheaper than
at present. It is not to be supposed
that the Sugar Trust is operating only
in order to give the people sugar at
reduced prices. Nobody ha3 any
grounds for the belief that any manu
facturing trust Is a philanthropic in
stitution, and it is difficult to believe
that anybody in Louisiana outside of
the trcst want* to put money into thi
coffers of that powerful and greedy
concern at the expense of the home
sugar producers."
This is the right sort of talk, anc
there is going to be more of it. It is an
edifying spectacle to see Southern
Democrats arguing with each other on
the tariff question. In such agitation
and diversity of opinion lies the
South’s best hope of reaching a sound
common-sense, level headed conclusion
in favor of protection and prosperity.
PAYING OURSELVES.
American* Now Kecel»« Va»t Ham* of
Money Which Oormorly Went Abroad.
Disbursements of dividends nml in
terest amounting to about 1500,000,000
are taking place during this first week
in January, 1902. It is very much the
largest sum ever distributed in this
form in the United States, and accord
ingly it may properly be considered as
representing by far the highest point i
in material prosperity ever reached in
the United States. No country on earth
can show anything like it. The grand
total of $500,000,000 Is more than dou
ble what the dlstributnon of dividends
and interest payments amounted to
in the first week in January, five years ;
ago. Then we were staggering under j
the effects of four years of tariff re- j
form and free trade. Now we have
not quite completed four and a half
years of restored protection to Ameri
can industry and labor. What a con
trast between then and now!
Five hundred millions of dollars Is a
big sum to be scattered broadcast
through this land of ours, a mighty
sum to be paid out here and to stay
here. For, mark you, it does stay
here and It does not go abroad any \
more, not above 1 per cent of it, to I
enrich creditors in foreign countries. ;
Reason why: We don't owe anything
now to foreigners. Why? Because in \
four and a half years of "McKinley |
and protection" our trade balances
have amounted to over $2,000,000,000,
and in settling these Immense balances
Europe has been compelled to send
back our securities,so that we now owe
Europe very little, if anything, and
only an infinitesimal portion of the
$500,000,000 disbursed this week goes
to any but our own people. Not long
ago, say four or five years, our great j
railroad corporations were sending
vast amounts of money to London and
the continent to pay dividends on
stocks and interest on bonds owned
abroad. This year the checks are
made payable to American citizens
and not to foreigners. All because the
Republican policy of protection en
ables us to produce so large a pro
portion of what we use and to require
payment in cash or the return of our
securities held abroad for the enor
mous surplus of our exports over our
imports.
There is a tremendous object lesson
in the disbursement of $500,000,000
among the people of the United States
during this first week in January, 1902.
SPARE THAT TREE 1
Woodman, spare that tree;
Touch not a single bough.
In youth it sheltered me.
And I’ll Protect it now.
Tbs Sad I.ouUlana Purchase,
Added to the $15,000,000 paid France
for Louisiana, there were over $12,000,
000 in interest and allowed claims.
Then reckoning the cost of the Indian
wars, because of that purchase, at
merely $500,000,000, and we have a
grand total of $527,000,000. What &
consummate blockhead anti-Philip
pine purchasers must rate Thomas Jef
ferson. How can these antis even con
sent to reside longer in the land of
the great original annexationist? But,
worst of all, Thomas J. governed the
purchased territory without the con
sent of the governed. What an out
rage !
Don't Stop tlio Wheel*.
if Congress, governed by the spirit
of evil, should take up ihe Tariff ques
tion there would be lobbying for high
er duties here and lower duties there,
and manufacturers and importers
would have to stand and mark time till
they knew what the outcome of the
turmoil and the strife was to be. To
attempt to revise the Tariff is to put
the brake on the wheels of the chariot
of prosperity.—Tionesta (Pa.) Repub
lican.
Babcock's Recruits.
Instead of Babcock having fifty or
sixty Republican members, as pre
dicted by Democratic papers, who are
willing to follow his lead in an en
deavor to open up the Tariff question
by amendments to the Dlngley law, we
venture the assertion that he cannot
muster as many as twenty-five.—Har
risburg (Va.) "Spirit of the Valley.’’
MORAY’S NOBLE LINE.
PATHETIC ROMANCE IN LIFE OF A
SCOTTISH PEER.
*T, the Kart of Moray,’* the Haughty
Declaration Customary at a MoaMsg
of Deers of the Ancient Kingdom ot
.Hot land.
Lying dead In his least important
seat of Doune lodge, near Stirling, i9
Edmund Archibald Stuart, fifteenth
Earl of Moray, Lx>rd Doune, St. Colme,
and Abernethy, and Lord Stuart ol
Castle Stuart.
The words quoted in the title of this
article refer to a claim the deceased
earl used to make at every meeting of
the Scotch peers, when “I, the Earl of
Moray," used to declare "that the Rt.
Hon. Walter John Francis, Earl of Mar
and Kellie, cannot be called or ad
mitted to vote in this election of peers
next in order to the Earl of Caithness
and prior in order to me, the Earl of
Moray.”
Tills declaration. “I, the Earl of Mo
ray,” has been heard in Holyrood house
again and again for many years. The
origin of the claim is to be found in
the fact that the original Eari, the
great Regent Moray, was created Eart
of Moray by Queen Mary two years be
fore the creation of the title Earl of
Mar. The claim, however, has always
been disputed, and the Earl of Mar
till retains his prior position on the
roll of the peers of Scotland.
There is no title of nobility, either
in England or Scotland, around which
a greater web of romance has been
woven than that of the earldom of Mo
ray. The mere fact that they are
Stuarts with the royal but irregular
blood of the great Scottish house in
their veins would alone invest the
scions of this great house with historic
interest—an Interest which they share
with other Stuarts, or Stewarts, now
represented by the Marquis of Bute,
the Earl of Galloway, the Earl of Cas
tle Stuart, and other noble lines.
But the earldom of Moray Is peculiar
in ihe manner of its descent. The
first earl, the regent, was murdered by
Hamilton of Bothwellhuugh, and tha
caridom descended not to any direct
issue of his, but to his son-in-law,
known as the Bonnie Earl of Moray,
who was murdered in his turn. The
i ini u t'ari netuoa me leuu uy umirjiug
(he daughter of his father’s murderer.
And when we come to the singular fact
that a second son, and afterward two
brothers, succeeded as fifth, sixth and
seventh earls, from which point the
succession continues in the direct line
to Francis, the ninth earl.
From this point the earldom de
scended to George Philip, fourteenth
earl, and then, all the intervening
members of the family who could have
succeeded to the title having died, it
reverted back to the nobleman now
deceased, who had descended from the
ninth earl, and who was the eldest
son of a country parson holding a liv
ing at £158 a year.
Unhappily, fortune did not come to
the Earl of Moray with both hands
full. At the time when he succeeded
to the title and estates he was suffer
ing from an incurable disease. There
is something Infinitely pathetic in the
fact that the inheritor of the glories of
the Scotch monarchy, of historic asso
ciations with Mary Stuart and Darn
ley, and of titles which go back to the
time of David I„ and Robert Bruce,
should be fated to end his life in a con
dition of pitiable splendor.
“I, the Earl of Moray,” has been the
proud title of more than twenty per
sons since the old Celtic lordship was
instituted, but there are very few of
them whose lives need be envied by
even the humblest in the land.—Lon
don Mail.
Napoleon and Blimardr*
When Lord Rosebery told his audi
ence at Chesterfield recently that the
Boer war might be settled by a casual
meeting of two travelers in a neutral
inn he was probably thinking of the
meeting of Napoleon III. and Bismarck
in the cottage of a Belgian weaver aft
er the battle of Sedan. Just before this
conference Bismarck, unwashed and
dirty, hastened on horseback toward
Sedan. On the road he met the emper
or, sitting with three officers in a two
horse carriage, three other officers on
horseback riding beside him. As the
chancellor approached unattended in
the presence of the emperor and six
officers he glanced instinctively at the
revolver buckled round his waist.
Thinking of the incident afterward,
Bismarck confessed that he might have
involuntarily seized hold of the weap
on. Napoleon turned an ashen gray
and it seemed as if in the first moment
of his captivity he feared that the ma
ker of a nation could commit murder
in cold blood. • Possibly,” said Bis
marck afterward, “he thought that his
tory might repeat itself. I think it was
a prince of Conde who was murdered
while a prisoner after a battle.”
The Mont Poetic Sovereign.
The most poetic sovereign in the
world is probably the emperor of Ja
pan. His love of poetry, it is asserted,
increases with years. The Japan Mall
says that “scarcely an evening passes
that his majesty does not compose
from twenty-seven to thirty of the 31
syllable couplets called Waka.’ These
are handed to Baron Takasaki for ex
amination. Baron Takasaki has hold
his present position since 1892, and he
declares that the number of couplets
composed by his majesty from that
time up to the end of last March was
37,000. The empress also is very
fond of writing verses, but her majes
ty’s pen is not so prolific as that of the
emperor. She composes abiut two
couplets twice a week.”
