The Czar’s Spy
The Mystery of a Silent Love
By Chevalier WILLIAM LE QUEUX Author of “The Closed Book,” etc.
Copyright by the Smart Set Publishing Co.
SYNOPSIS.
—2—
T! • • I>4w narrowly »-sr*ap.-» wreck
S' ’ • - m\ *•. «r*.--r (Serdon locum
lw>ti> f-r t! • MrttSch t - nsul. i« called
•i* a *•> N«*n ‘ ■ t- • !»•!;«'» owner, and
#*r4 w al wrd wit4 hyn and hi* friend.
** ‘ r Ab - trd tl»e yacht He af
• csd. ntatlv »» a rt*#m full of arm« and
•»< niuMthHi and a turn photoaraph of a
%our.jf *<ri Ttiar mffht tho i-riFil* *af“
t ri*Utw«J *t die la»la gru'a suddenly t«>
►* Tt |»“I e end trie* Hornby U a
ar*d III* 1 »** n name a f:il>r one.
Cw*.**£ft 1—Continued.
"t*x?ortuiii»!ely the telegraphic re
from Kngland are only to hand
lit* morning." he went on. "because
^ti«r before two o'clock this morning
*he harbor police, whom I specially
•rd red to watch the vessel, saw a
bu-M come to the wharf containing a
man and woman The pair were put
ashore, and walked away into the
town, the woman seeming to walk
with considerable difficulty The boat
returned, and an bour alter, to the
complete surprise of the two de
te tr-e* steam was suddenly got up
and the yacht turned and went
straight out to sea.”
1-eaving the man and the woman?"
leaving them, of course They are |
probably still in the town. The police
are row searching for traces of them."
f»ut could not you have detained
lb* vessel*" I suggested
Of course, had ! but know n. I could
ta'e forbidden her departure Hut as
fc-r iwr.er had presented himself at
tSe consulate, and was recognized as a
fr-p. ah'- person. I felt that I could
••ot m'erfere w.ihout some tangible in
Cbroiaiion -and that, alas' has come
t- o . it- The vessel is a swift one.
•ad nas already seven hours start of
ue l »e asked the admiral to send
:« t a i triple of torpedo-boats after her,
but. unfortunately, thi* is im|tossible,
»“ the Botilia is sailing in an hour to
•ttend the na\al review at Spezia."
I told him how the consul's safe had
b-eti opened during the night, and he
•a' listening with wide-open eyes
Vou dined with them last night."
be said at last "They may have sur
reptitiously stolen your keys.”
They may.” was my answer. " Prob
ably they did Hut with what mo
live *~
The captain of the port elevated his
•boulders, exhibited his palms, and de
clared The w hole affair from be
ginning to end is a complete and pro
found mystery ”
CHAPTER II.
Why the Safe Wa* Opened.
That day was an active one in the
t'—stara or police office, of Leghorn.
lieu-dives called, examined the safe, j
and sagely declared it to be burglar- 1
l*rtjof. had not the thieves possessed (
lt« key. ,
Probably while 1 sat at dinner on.
board the Lida my keys had been |
stolen and passed on to the scarred
Scotsman who had promptly gone
s-bore and ransacked the place while
I had remained with his master smok
ing and unsuspicious, but as far as
Francesco and I could ascertain noth
ing whatever had been taken The de
tective on duty at the railway station
distinctly recollected a thin, middle
»ged man. accompanied by a lady in
4eep black, passing the barrier and
enter t.g the train which left at three
Fcliw k tor C olle Sal vet ti to join the
Home express. They were foreigners.
lher*-for.* he did not take the same t
notice of them as though they had
been Italians
The desinption of the Lola, its own
" his guest and the captain were cir
'■i1%tcd by the l-oiice to all the Medi
terranean ports, with a request that
be yacht should be detained Yet if
;ue vessel were really one of mystery. ;
" ‘t seemed to be. its ow ner would
no doubt go across to some quiet ,
•ii« hot age on the Algerian coast cut
j» the track of the vessels, and calmly
p ocred to repaint, rename and dis
**■ his craft so that it would not be
re- oghixed in Marseilles. Naples. Smyr
na or any of the ports where private
yachts habitually call.
For purposes of their own the police
«ep* the affair out of the papers, and
when Frank Hutcheson stepped out
if the sleeping car from Paris on to )
the platform at Pisa a few nights aft
erwards I related to him Hie esc- j
traurdlnary story
The >< oundrets wanted these, that s :
•■.lent ' he responded, bolding up the]
total!, strong leather hand bag he j
•»» carrying, and which contained his |
)eaiou*ly guarded ciphers, Tty Jove!"I
he laughed. how disappointed they
must have been!'
' It may tie so.” I said, as we entered
the midnight train for Leghorn. "But
my own theory is that they were
searching for some paper or other that
you possess."
"What can my papers concern
them?" exclaimed the jovial, round
faced consul. "I don't keep bank notes
in that safe; you know. We fellows in
the service don't roll in gold as our
public at home appears to think."
"No. But you may have something
in there which might be of value to
them. You're often the keeper of val
uable documents belonging to Eng
lishmen abroad, you know."
"Certainly. But there's nothing in
there just now No. my dear Gordon,
depend upon it that the yacht running
ashore was all a blind. They did it so
as to be able to get the run of the con
sulate, secure the ciphers, and sail
merrily away with them.”
"But the man and the woman who
left the yacht an hour before she
sailed, and who slipped away into the
country somewhere! I wonder who
they were? Hornby distinctly told '
me that he and Chater were alone, and
yet there was evidently a lady and a
gentleman on board 1 guessed there
was a woman there, from the way the i
boudoir and ladies' saloon were ar- j
ranged, and certainly no man’s hand
decorated a dinner table as that was
decorated.”
“Yes. That's decidedly funny,” re
marked the consul thoughtfully. "They
showed a lot of ingenuity.”
"Ingenuity! I should think so! The
whole affair was most cleverly
planned."
' You said something about an ar
mory."
"Yes. there were Maxims stowed
away in one of the cabins. They
aroused my suspicions."
They would not have aroused
mine." replied my friend. "Yachts car
ry arms for protection in many cases. |
especially if they are going to cruise
along uncivilized coasts where they j
must land for water or provisions."
I told him of the torn photograph,
which caused him some deep reflec
tion.
I wonder why the picture had been
torn up Had there been a row on
board—a quarrel or something?”
"It had been destroyed surrepti
tiously. I think.”
“Pity you didn't pocket the frag- ■
ments. We could perhaps have dis- \
covered from the photographer the j
identity of the original."
"Ah'” I sighed regretfully. "I never
thought of that I recollect the name j
of the firm, however.”
"1 shall have to report to London i
the whole occurrence, as British sub- i
jeots are under suspicion," Hutcheson |
"The Scoundrels Wanted These, That’s
Evident."
said "We'll see whether Scotland'
Yard knows anything about Hornby
or Chater. Most probably they do.
Hi write a full report in the morning
if you will give me minute descriptions
of the men. as well as of the captain,
Mackintosh.”
Next morning the town of Leghorn
awoke to find itself gay with bunting,
the Italian and English flags flying
side by side everywhere, and the con
sular standard flapping over the con
_ ______ __
sulate in the piazza. In the night the
British Mediterranean fleet, cruising
down from Malta, had come into the
roadstead, add at the signal from the
flagship had maneuvered and dropped
anchor, forming a long line of gigantic
battleships, swift cruisers, torpedo
boat destroyers, torpedo-boats, dis
patch-boats, and other craft extending
for several miles along the coast. Ly
ing still on those calm waters was a
force which one day might cause na
tions to totter, the overwhelming
force which upheld Britain’s right in
that oft-disputed sea.
I had taken a boat out to the Bul
wark. the great battleship flying the ad
miral’s flag, and was sitting on deck
with my old friend Capt. Jack Durn-'
ford of the Royal Marines. Each year!
when the fleet put into Leghorn we
were inseparable, for in long years
past, at Portsmouth, we had been
close friends, and now he was able
to pay me annual visits at my Italian
home.
He was on duty that morning, there
fore could not get ashore till after
luncheon.
"I’ll dine with you, of course, to
night, old chap," he said. "And you
must tell me all the news. We're in
here for six days, and 1 was half a
mind to run home."
“Your time’s soon up. isn’t it?" I
remarked, as I lolled back in the easy
deck-chair, and gazed away at the
white port and its background of pur
ple Apennines.
The dark, good-looking fellow, in his
smart summer uniform leaned over
the bulwark, and said, with a slight
I
sigh, 1 thought: "Yes. This is my
last trip to leghorn, I think. I go
back in November, and I really shan’t
be sorry. Three years is a long time
to be away from home. You go next
week, you say? Lucky devil to be
your own master! I only wish I were.
Year after year on this deck grows
confoundedly wearisome, I can tell
you. my dear fellow."
Durnford was a man who had writ
ten much on naval affairs, and was
accepted as an expert on several
branches of the service. The ad
miralty do not encourage officers to
write, but in Durnford’s case it was
recognized that of naval topics he pos
sessed a knowledge that was of use.
and. therefore, he was allowed to
write books and to contribute critical
articles to the service magazines. He
had studied the relative strengths of
foreign navies, and by keeping his
eyes always open he had, on many oc
casions, been able, to give valuable in
formation to our naval attaches at the j
embassies.
go as soon as you’ve sailed, i j
only stayed because I promised to act
for Frank,” I said. "And, by Jove! a
funny thing occurred while I was in
charge—a real first-class mystery."
"A mystery—tell me,” he exclaimed,
suddenly interested.
“Well, a yacht—a pirate yacht. I be- !
lieve it was—called here.”
"A pirate! What do you mean?” j
“Well, she was English. Listen, and !
I'll tell you the whole affair. It'll be !
something fresh to tell at mess, for I
know how you chaps get played out
of conversation.”
"By Jove, yes! Things slump when
we get no mail. But go on—I'm listen
ing," he added, as an orderly came up.
saluted, and handed him a paper.
"Well," I said, "let's cross to the
other side. I don't want the sentry
to overhear.”
"As you like—but why such mys
tery?" he asked, as we walked togeth
er to the other side of the spick-and l
span quarterdeck of the gigantic bat
tleship.
"You'll understand when I tell you
the story.” And then, standing to
gether beneath the awning. I related
to my friend the whole of the curious
circumstances.
"Confoundedly funny!" he remarked
with his dark eyes fixed upon mine.
“A mystery, by Jove, it is! What
name did the yacht bear?”
"The Lola."
"What!” he gasped, suddenly turn
ing pale. "The Lola? Are you quite
sure it was the Lola—L-o-l-a?"
"Absolutely certain,” I replied. "But
why do you ask? LK> you happen to
know anything about the craft?"
He paused a moment, and I could
see what a strenuous effort he was
making to avoid betraying knowledge.
“It’s—well—” he said hesitatingly,
with a rather sickly smile. "It’s a
girl's name—a girl I once knew. The
name brings back to me certain mem
ories.” m
"Pleasant ones—I hope."
' No. Bitter ones—very bitter ones,"
he said in a hard tone, striding across
the deck and back again, and I saw
in his eyes a strange look, half of
anger, half of deep regret.
Was he telling the truth. I won
dered? Some tragic romance or other
concerning a woman had. I knew, over
shadowed his life in the years before
we had become acquainted. But the
real facts he had never revealed to
me. Outwardly he was as merry as
the other fellows who officered that
huge floating fortress; on board he
was a typical smart marine, and on
shore he danced and played tennis
and flirted just as vigorously as did
the others. But a heavy heart b“at
beneath his uniform.
When he returned to where 1 stood
I saw that his face had changed; it
had become drawn and haggard. He
more the appearance of a man who
had been struck a blow that had stag
gered him. crushing out all life and
hope.
"What’s the matter. Jack?” I asked.
"Come! Tell me—what ails you?”
"Nothing, my dear old chap,” he an
swered hoarsely. “Really nothing—
only a touch of the blues just for a
moment," he added, trying hard to
smile. "It’ll pass.”
“What I’ve just told you about that
yacht has upset you. You can't deny
it."
He started. His mouth was, I saw,
hard set. He knew something con
cerning that mysterious craft, but
would not tell me.
“Why are you silent?” I asked slow
ly. my eyes fixed upon my friend the
officer. “I have told you what I know,
and I want to discover the motive of
the visit of those men, and the reason
they opened Hutcheson’s safe."
“I admit that I have certain grave
suspicions.” he said at last, standing
'•What!” He Gasped Suddenly Turn
ing Pale, "the Lola?”
astride with his hands behind his
back, his sword trailing on the white
deck. “You say that the yacht was
called the Lola—painted gray with a
black funnel.”
"No. dead white, with a yellow fun
nel.”
“Ah! Of course,” he remarked, as
though to himself. “They world re
paint and alter her appearance. But
the dining saloon. Was there a long
carved oak buffet with a big. heavy
cornice with three gilt dolphins in the
center—and were there not dolphins
in gilt on the backs of the chairs—
an armorial device?"
“Yes.” I cried. “You are right. 1
.remember them! You’ve surely been
on board her!”
“The captain, who gave his name to
you as Mackintosh, is an undersized
American of a rather low-down type?"
"I took him for a Scotsman.”
“Because he put on a Scotch ac
cent." he laughed. “He's a man who
can speak a dozen languages brokenly,
and pass for an Italian, a German, a
Frenchman, as he wishes.”
“And the—the man who gave his
name as Philip Hornby?”
Durnford's mouth closed with a
snap. He drew a long breath, his eyes
grew fierce, and he bit his lip.
“Ah! I see he is not exactly your
friend,” I said meaningly.
“You are right. Gordon—he is not
my friend," was his slow, meaning re
sponse.
“Then why not be outspoken and
tell me all you know concerning him?
Frank Hutcheson is anxious to clear
up the mystery.”
"Well, to tell you the truth. I'm mys
tified myself. 1 can't yet discern their
motive.”
"But at any rate you know the men,”
I argued. “You can at least tell us
who they really are.”
He shook his head, still disinclined,
for some hidden reason, to reveal the
truth to me.
"You saw no woman on board?” he
asked suddenly, looking straight into
my eyes.
“No. Hornby told me that he and
Chater were alone."
‘And yet an hour after you left a
man and a woman came ashore and
disappeared! Ah! If we only had a
description of that woman it would re
veal much to us."
"She was young and dark-haired, ac
the detective says. She had a curious
fixed look In her eyes, which attracted
him, but she wore a thick motor veil,
so that he could not clearly discern
her feature*”
"And her companion?"
' Middle-aged. prematurely gray
with a small, dark mustache.”
Jack Durford sighed and stroked
his chin.
"Ah! Just as I thought,” he ex
claimed. “And they were actually
here, in this port, a week ago! What
a bitter irony of fate!”
"I don't understand you.” I said
ou are so mysterious, and yet you
will tell me nothing!”
“The police, fools that they are
have allowed them to escape, and they
will never be caught now. Ah! you
don't know them as I do! They are
the cleverest pair in all Europe. And
they have the audacity to call then
craft the Lola—the Lola, of all names!
Gordon, let me be frank and open
with you, my dear old fellow. I would
tell you everything—everything—if 1
dared. But I cannot—you under
stand!” And his final words seemed
to choke him.
I stood before him, open-mouthed ir
astonishment.
“You really mean—well, that you
are in fear of them—eh?” 1 whis
pered.
He nodded slowly in the affirmative,
adding: “To tell you the truth would
be to bring upon myself a swift, re
lentless vengeance that would over
whelm and crush me. Ah! my deal
fellow, you do not know—you cannot
dream—what brought those desperate
men into this port. 1 can guess—1 can
guess only too well—but I can only
tell you that if you ever do discover
the terrible truth—which I fear is un
likely—you will solve one of the
strangest and most remarkable mys
teries of modern times.”
“What does the mystery concern?"
1 asked, in breathless eagerness.
“It concerns a woman.”
CHAPTER III.
The House “Over the Water.”
I had idled away a pleasant month
up in Boston, and from there had gone
north to the Lakes, and it was one hot
evening in mid-August that I found
myself again in London, crossing St
James’ square from the Sports club,
I had just turned into Pall Mall when
a voice at my elbow suddenly ex
claimed in Italian:
’’Ah. signore!—why, actually, my pa
drone!”
And looking around I saw a thin
faced man of about thirty, dressed in
neat but rather shabby black, whom 1
instantly recognized as a man whc
had been my servant in Leghorn for
two years, after which he had left to
better himself.
“Why, Olinto!" I exclaimed, sur
prised, as I halted. “You—in Lon
don—eh? Well, and how are you get
ting on?”
“Most excellently, signore." he an
swered in broken English, smiling
“But it is so pleasant for me to see
my generous padrone again. What
fortune it is that I should pass here
at this very moment!”
“Where are you working?” I in
quired.
“At the Restaurant Milona, in Ox
ford street—only a small place, but we
gain discreetly, so 1 must not com
plain. 1 live over in Lambeth, and am
on my way home.”
When we halted before the Na
tional gallery prior to partiug 1 made
some inquiries regarding Armida. the
black-eyed, good-looking housemaid
whom he had married.
“Ah. signore!” he responded in a
voice choked with emotion, dropping
into Italian. “It is the one great sor
row of n>? life. I work hard from
early morning until late at night, but
what is the use when I see my poor
wife gradually fading away before my
very eyes? The doctor says that she
cannot possibly live through the next
winter. Ah! how delighted the poor
girl would be if she could see the pa
drone again!"
1 felt sorry for him. Armida had
been a good servant, and had served
me well for nearly three years. Old
Rosina. my housekeeper, had often
regretted that she had been compelled
to leave to attend to her aged mother.
The latter, he told me, had died, hnd
afterwards he had married her. He
asked so wistfully that his wife might
see me once more that, having nothing
very particular to do that evening, and
feeling a deep sympathy for the j>oor
fellow in his trouble. I resolved to
accompany him to his house and see
whether I could not, in some slight
manner, render him a little help.
4TO BE OOXTIXl'ED.)
CREDIT THIS TO "DRUMMERS"
Kr.ignt* at the Road Put Up Shrewd
Scheme to Aid Widow in
Dire Situation.
"That the drummer ia the right sort
at chap was demonstrated to me to
day.” aaid a Ptttsbnrger. "Coming in
am the tram was a widow woman with
threw kids. Prom the amount of her
drapery she had on I guess her hus
band had Just died and left her a gum
tree, ' ou could tell she had seen
good, easy times, but maybe there was
wome neglect about insurance %Vhat
with the kids and other reasons you
oowid see she was nervous about thia
traveling Anyhow, we hadn't gone
fa* before the conductor found out that
she was on the wrong train. Then she
prpke down, but she waa as proud as
a w ell bred woman could be. It didn't
take the drummers—there were six of
them—long to find out that she was so
badly fixed that she bad spent her last
dollar on tickets sad was like to be
rtranded with the kids In a place
.tore she didn't want to land. The
JuBu,trt * uuied to help her. but they
didn't know how to go about tt; she
was so darned reserved that no one
had the nerve to offer to pull her out.
But finally they got in the smoke room
and figured out the thing on a time
table. They all chipped in and then
called in the conductor. He was the
right sort of a fellow. The way he
done it was fine. He walked back to
the lady with a thoughtful air and
said he had telegraphed to New York
and had had the tickets changed. To
see that woman's face would have
done you good.”
GOT HOLD OF WRONG HOSE
Colored Man intended to Make Paste,
But Instead He Landed in the
Police Court.
Covered with white from head to
foot, the prisoner looked like a snow
man
“With what is this man charged?"
asked the court.
“1 saw a white cloud,” replied Offi
cer 666. “and I thought he was trying
to blow uo a building."
"V\ hat have you to say for your
self?”
For answer the prisoner puffed out
a little white cloud and coughed up
enough flour to make a batch of bis
cuits.
“Can’t you speak?"
A negative shake of the man's head
sent flour into the atmosphere like
hair from a woolly dog.
“Are you a baker?”
This time the man managed to mum
ble a half-smothered “No."
“Then what on earth are you?"
After several false starts the prison
er finally blurted:
“Bill poster.” 1
“Did you fall into a flour bin?”
Rubbing his face until a dusky skin
began to show through its white coat
ing, the prisoner explained:
“No, sah. W’en I run out ob paste
dis mawnin’, I filled a bucket wif
flouah an’ went across de street, where
I saw a big hose by de side ob a build
ing. I put de nozzle ob de hose into
de bucket, but at first de handle
wouldn’t turn. I gabe one big twist,
I an’—an’ den it happened!"
I “What happened?"
“bat hose wasn't foah fillin' pails
at-all; it was foah fillin' automobile
tiahs!”—Judge.
Candy From the Fields.
One of the latest promises from
modern discoveries is that the candy
of the future may be grown in the
fields. Alfalfa is the medium. A man
who owns food mills in Idaho and
Montana announces that he can make
at least seventy-five different kinds
of candy from alfalfa. There is also
a mill in California that makes meal
front alfalfa, which is for the raw ma
terial of the candy maker. A rich
grade of sirup may also be made from
alfalfa. The discoverer is so enthu
siastic over the results of his alfalfa
research that he is planning for the
manufacture of alfalfa flour, which he
asserts will be superior to all other
flours for baking. This mill will prob
ably be ready in six months. He has
a mill in Idaho that has been making
a balanced food for live stock out of
alfalfa. If the candy experiment turns
out to be a reality, there may be ex
pected a large increase in the acre
age of the planting.
Child’s Allowance.
Should boys and girls have their
own allowance, in proportion to the
means of the parents, as soon as they
are old enough to know the value of
money? This is what many a parent
has said in substance:
"Certainly. An allowance is the
best safeguard against the habit of ex
travagance, if the child is taught to
spend the money judiciously and to
keep a strict account of all expendi
tures. It is absurd to think that a boy
is not capable of buying his own neck
ties or a girl her handkerchiefs. What
if they do make mistakes? They can
be taught to profit by them and they
must learn to rely upon themselves
sooner or later. Children like to be
trusted and will seldom betray confi
dence."
A Bargain.
"She intended to refuse him. but she
is such a lover of bargains that she
could not."
“How was that?”
"He loosed so cheap when she
turned him down that she snapped
him ut>.”
THE JOYOUS FOURTH
By William Gerard Chapman
Gee. don't I wish the Fourth wuz here I
It seems like I can’t wait
Until the days jest catch up with
That blame’ red-figger date.
I got a lot o’ fire-works.
Oh, more’n you could think*
A bully cannon, too, of brass.
So shiny makes you blink.
The minute when I get awake.
’Bout four o’clock or so.
You bet I’ll hustle in my clothes
An’ grab rr.y box an’ go
A-hitin’ out behin" the bam
An’ light my punk -- an’, say!
You won’t hear nothing much but noise
The rest o' that whole day.
But, gosh! that ain’t a circumstance
To what’ll happen when
It gets right dark. You jest be there:
You’ll see some doin's, then!
Well break in Si. the blacksmith's, shop
An get his anvils out
An' shoot them all around the town*
Then there 11 be noise, don’t doubtl
Afore each house we'll set one down
An' pour the powder in.
An' set the other top of it —
Then jest you hear the din!
Some folks'll come a-runnin' out
An’ raise an awful row;
But mostll laugh like fun an’ shout
“Jest get along, boys, now."
Oh, gee, I wish the Fourth wuz here I
But Ma sez, “Mercy me!
Why you're so set on gettin’ bums
An’ blisters, I can’t see.”
But shucks! who cares for things like thatV
A boy’s Ma never learns
As how he has jest loads o’ fun
A-gettin’ of those bums.
(.Copyright. 1S13, by W. G. Chapman.)
The last sitting given by Washing
ton was for Sharpless, who made a
mathematically correct profile which
furnishes the authority for the pro
portions of the subject's features.
Of all painters, none achieved more
than Gilbert Stuart, who. it is general
ly agreed, has given to the world the
best likeness of the man. Stuart’s
success was probably' due to the fact
that he kept his subject from self
consciousness by entertaining him. In
the two originals of this artist, and in
the twenty-six copies which he made,
he left noble personification of wis
dom and serenity to the American peo
ple in the person of the first president
of the nation.
In color and finish, as well as in life
like resemblance of features, no Wash
ington artist has approached him. At
the time of the Stuart sitting Wash
ington's mouth appeared rather unnat
ural on account of two new seahorse
ivory front teeth which substituted for
the general's own. The failure of the
first portrait, which was destroyed,
was probably traceable to this fact.
The Stuart picture of Washington
standing with a sword in his left hand
was made expressly for the Marquis
of Lansdowne, who was so delighted
with the canvas that he declared it
was only his advanced years which
prevented his crossing the ocean to
thank Washington for allowing this
picture to be taken.
Although several copies of this paint
ing were made by Stuart, the painting
in the White House, so long, consid
ered his. was not done by that master.
It is the work of an obscure artist,
who substituted his own copy for an
original which the government pur
chased for $800.
Another interesting fact about this
picture is that during the time when
the British were in Washington in
1814 it stood out in inclement weather
for several days. This was because
the man to whom it was intrusted wai
afraid to keep it in his house for feat
of being punished by English invaders
As Stuart did not excel in represent
ing Washington's figure, this picture
does not meet all the requirements ol
a good painting. The hand is said tc
be too small, as Stuart used the wai
model of his own hand in making the
picture.
Stuart's famous Washington por
trait, made for Mrs. Washington, was
never entirely finished, because the
artist always managed to delay com
pleting the background. Finally
Washington, after frequent sittings
became annoyed and told the artist
that he would sit no more, but to send
the picture home when it was finished
Later, when he saw the advantage
which having such an original afTord
ed Stuart, who was thereby enabled to
make numerous copies, he told the
artist that he himself would be satis
fled with a copy.
It has been the original of this pic
ture which has been perpetuated bv
thousands of copies distributed
throughout the world. It is now the
property of the Boston athenaeum
Stuart's freshness of color, his skill
ful modeling of the forehead, the dig
nity yet kindliness shown in the pic
ture, image all that a grateful people
expect to find in the sublime charactex
of the father of his country.
The artist realized that he was
painting for future generations, for
when someone suggested to him that
he had made Washington's eyes toe
blue, he answered that in a hundred
years the color would be just right
With the excellence of Stuart s fea
tures, with the exactness of Peale's
and Trumbull's figures, and the life
cast of Houdon. it remains for a mod
ern master to make a composite pic
ture of Washington which shall satis,
fy all demands.
j
Not to be outdone by France or Ger
many, "bleeding Poland,’* today a na
tion only in the wonderful unity of its
people the world over, and in revolu
tionary times in last throes of in
voluntary dissolution, sent her sous
to wage in America the struggle for
freedom that had gone against them
at home. So Count Casimir Pulaski
and Thaddeus Kosciuszko came to this
country.
To tell of the life of Kosciuszko
would be to tell of a wonderful old
world romance, of love and hardships,
of discouragements and great tri
umphs.
Son of a Lithuanian noble, he came
to this country as a result of a love
affair with one of higher rank than he,
bearing with him. it is said, a blood
stained handkerchief, the only memen
to of the girl who had won his heart,
only to be snatched away from him by
force, at the conclusion of a dramatic
attempt to elope.
The couple were overtaken and Kos
ciuszko was left all but dead, the for
gotten kerchief on his breast. But his
youth iron constitution brought
him round and. Poland having no
further attraction for him at that time,
he came to aid the struggling colo
nists in America.
Through Franklin's aid he was given
a place on Washingtons staff, and
afterward made colonel of engineers,
a position for which he was eminently
fitted by a careful military training in
the best schools of Europe. He was
with Gates at Saratoga, with Greene
in the Carolinas, and again in charge
of the fortification of West Point on
the Hudson.
When he had finished at West Point
that place was considered the strong
est fortress in America, and Washing
ton took pains to pay tribute to Kos
ciuszko's genius. At the end of the
war he was a major general in the
Continental army.
Then he went back t.o Poland to
fight for his own people. His efforts
were unsuccessful, and, sifter a check
ered career, he died in 1817 at Soleure
Switzerland. His heart was buried
under a monument there, and his body
embalmed and afterward laid at rest
at Cracow.
