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About The Columbus journal. (Columbus, Neb.) 1874-1911 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 7, 1906)
i-3lr 'v-J-vj SPEBEgS SSsB&sa? -3B& AS "2T J I ! 4 1 A " '"jpWWinD SnGECCGT. &STHB0BC jmancxar voimrjQ&C jW. CHAPTER VI. Continued. "Let me go," says his friend. "I'm the younger, and besides my weeds have run out, and I can't buy any this side of that cigar store on the Champs de Mars. I'll bring some down with Tne also your truant watch, for you've acted confoundedly queer all the af ternoon just like a mariner without his compass, by Jove!" with which remark he runs off up the steps of the house, while Dick leans against a post and waits for him, smiling at the allusion to his uneasiness, and wondering whether it was the ab sence of his watch of something else, that has made him feel like a ship minus a rudder. He stands there for just five min utes, and then hears sounds that cause "him to turn. What meets his vision amazes Dick a trim figure of a man has recently left his side, and here comes a demoralized specimen flying lown the stairs, waving his hand wildly above his head, and presenting something of the appearance Dick has seen when this same New Mexican sheriff was charging the camp of a dozen border desperadoes, whom he had on his list as characters to arrest. Something has evidently gone wrong, or Colonel Bob would not be making such a spectacle of himself. Dick conceives a sudden show of in terest in the short interval that re mains to him ere his companion ar rives he tries to realize what it may mean, and gives several wild guesses hefore Bob reaches his side. The New Mexican sheriff arrives, panting like a tired hound he can only with an effort catch his breath, and then blurts out his news in his usual jerk' fashion. "They're gone! the villain has won at last! cooped up in a mad-house! What d'ye think of that? and we promenading and feasting all the while! Only for the adorable Dora, even now we would be ignorant of their fate!" "What." gasps Dick. ."Just what I say they're caught and caged." "Here, in Paris?" .- "Yes." "And in broad daylight?" "It must be so some of the doings of that devil of a Senor Lopez. I'll be even with him yet," growls the 5SrdWfel Vj-y. ,&. Aw VIA x 1 iV&'X v? r xv"- vMob "Through me, sheriff, very much as a dog might mumble over his bone when another animal comes near. "The paper let me have it." says Dick, with extraordinary calmness, considering the tact that his blood Is leaping like mad through his veins, while his heart thumps like a trip hammer. Another instant and it Is thrust into his hand. The note has been hastily written on a sheet from a diarv it is ad dressed on one side to Colonel Robert Harlan, with the number and street of their lodgings, and is signed by Dora. This is what Dick -eads: "My Colonel: We have been de coyed to this house believe it is a private mad-house. For Heaven's sake come to our rescue. I do not know why this has been done, only that he is at the bottom of it, the man who is Miss Pauline's enemy. We shall defend ourselves if need be. Give the bearer ten francs. He will tell you where this place is some where near the Boulevarde de Cha ronne. for I have had glimpses of a cemetery on a hill, which I am sure must be Pere la Chaise, and a great prison towers in view, undoubtedly La Roquette. Come, my brave colonel, and save your own Dora." When Dick finishes reading this re markable epistle he utters something that is not at all complimentary to the Mexican hidalgo, and It is evident that the young man's temper is such that should he meet Senor Lopez presently, there would possibly be a scene. "See here, colonel, where's the bear er?" he suddenly demands. "I told him to follow me," says Bob, looking around, when, as though this may be a signal, a rather dilap idated street Arab bobs Into view. Dick attacks him impetuously. "You carried this note?" The quaint chap nods gravely. "Describe how it came into your possession." "Easily done, monsieur. Late this afternoon I was near the hill Cha ronne, when my attention was at tracted by a white handkerchief flut tering from the barred window of a house, an upper window, too. I knew the place it was the private mad house of M. Girard, and many stories have been told about it among my fellows. "My attention being directed, I saw a white hand beckon me. '1 do not know what influeaced me, WW S 5 ft'jr s vff HV 5 T3 t L : mWMWUm ffltiMMTS.; '"' g mi Lv aWVwSJMaaal Wmm m ) U 1 '" lH' - MM 'KW ;W6. A W'l Wm&sMi mm mwrsnm wui.--.vv- m, ii " au RlfilK ft 11 11 msm SirtSEWYOfiK monsieur, save some spirit of deviltry. I saw there was an empty house next door, and from the roof of this I could just reach the window where that hand beckoned. "This I did, and discovered two beautiful ladies looking out between the wooden bars. One of the "ladles spoke to me in French, and told me where to take the note. They en treated me not o linger I pitied their distress, and making my best bow, which I learned at the Elysees Montmartre balls, I came away. I need say no more, messieurs, as you are already acquainted with the rest of the story." "What hour was this?" asks Dick. "The bells were just tolling five when I left the roof." responds the strange half man, half boy. Dick groans. "Hours lost more than two of them if we had only returned before dining." "No use crylnR Ter spilled milk. The only thing that remains is to see whether this story is true. How shall we know until we prove it?" "Through me, messieurs." It is not the street Arab who speaks, for he has flown down to the avenue, a king, as it were, a bloated bond nolder in his mind Dick whirls upon his heel to face the speaker of those cool words. CHAPTER VII. The Mad-House Near La Roquette. A man stands near him where he came from it would be impossible to say. but his movements must be, like those of another person made famous by the novelist's pen, "devilish sly," for he certainly was not there a min ute before. "Ah! and who might you be, my good sir?" demands Dick, accepting the situation. "Francois, better known as Num ber Eleven, in conection with the work of the prefect." returns the quiet-looking individual. "Ah! you are one of the secret agents?" "Oui, monsieur." bowing. "You know this story of the street Arab " "It is true I have seen the ladies myself, though not to communicate with them. Then I made my report at headquarters and was directed to find M. Denver and his friend." "Having found them, my good Fran cois?" "To tell my story and offer my services," promptly. messieurs.1 "Good we accept. You will lead us to this place, this private mad house of Girard's, where they shut up American ladies because Mexican gold has entered the game. M. Fran cois, we are impatient to be off lead iio to the scene and we will show you what manner or men they have out on the plains of the South-west." "One question, messieurs, before we go are you armed. We may have a little difficulty with the men of Dr. Girard. They are a rough lot, and may show fight." "Nothing would please us better," says Dick. "I've been spoiling for a little ac tion these two months ever since we had that affair in Ireland, where they took us for constables and tried to shillelah us. It's been an age since so much time went by without some sort of excitement to keep my hand in." declares Bob. "Lot me make a proposition, mes sieurs." "Be quick, then, my good friend." "I can go to the office of the pre fect again and secure the services of other secret agents." "That will take time." "Of course." "How long, at a guess?" "Parbleu! say one half-hour." "We cannot spare it. At the corner we will find a carriage by that time ne ma.? s?:pect to be hammering at the door of M. Girard's Retreat, and demanding admittance. We will not wait the time is too valuable." They all hurry down the street toward the corner of the Champs Elysees, where, as Dick has declared, they find a carriage. The Frenchman has evidently been quite taken with Dick's positive ways, for he can be heard exclaiming, as he follows close behind "Mon Dieu! I love a man of ac tion, who grapples with a difficulty by the horns, as if it were a mad bull that is Francdls, Number Eleven." Now. having arrived at the corner, Dick glances up and down the great thoroughfare makes a peculiar signal with his arm, and in five seconds, as it were,, an empty carriage draws up at the curb, in which they all proceed to ensconce themselves, out not be fore Francois has muttered some di rections in the ear of the driver, who nods and grins as if amused. They are off. Colonel Bob, as usual, has had his eyes about him, and it is seldom this man from Secora county gets left -ji "M. Francois," he says, "may I ask what you told our driver that appear ed to tickle him so tremendously?" The secret agent chuckles. "I amused him with a little fiction,' messieurs." "And I warrant it had some con nection with me, for the fellow actu ally looked sorry when he caught my eye confess, Francois." "I will have to I allayed suspicion by telling the garcon that my friend and I were conveying a wretched hus band, who tried to chop his wife to pieces in his madness, to the Retreat of M. Girard," with a mock bow to ward Colonel Bob, who roars aloud at the intelligence, and takes it all so good-naturedly that he quite wins tfce other's heart. "Gentlemen, you did not answer .my cuestion about arms." says the secret agent, whereupon they unload. Dick carries a revolver, whenever he be lieves the regulations of the country he is in allow it, while Colonel Bob would just as soon think of going without his head as unarmed. The latter individual lays a ferocious-looking six-shooter on the seat beside M. Francois, and then pro ceeds to draw a regular bowie-knife from the back of his coat. "Mon Dieu!" exclaims the French man, aghast, and when he sees the bold sheriff from Secora county bring a second knife into view from one of his bootlegs, he drops back in his seat. "What d'ye think now, my friend?" demands Bob, with triumph in his voice. "We may surprise M. Girard, eh?" "Ciel! we will paralyze him!" The carriage is making good time while they thus converse, and grad ually drawing nearer the vicinity of the famous cemetery Pere la Chaise, and the gloomy prison that stands near the foot of the bill Charonne, so that those confined here can look out upon the cheerful landscape of white stones and crosses amid the green sward. In front of La Roquette stood the guillotine that was so busy dur ing the reign of the Commune in '71, when the Seine ran red with blood. "We will soon be there," announces Francois, as they whirl around a cor ner, and he thrusts his head out to discover their whereabouts. (To be continued.) HAD IMPROVED OVER NATURE. Surgeon Had Glory Coming to Him, Rather Than Censure. A year or two after the late Presi dent McKinley had begun the prac tice of law he distinguished himself in a humorous fashion in one of his first successful cases. As often happens in court, the hum or was not merely for the sake of the joke, but for serious purpose. The case was brought against a sur geon, whom the plaintiff charged with having set bis leg so badly that it was bowed. McKinley defended the surgeon, and found himself pitted against one of the most brilliant law yers of the American bar. The latter brought his client into court and made him expose the in jured limb to the jury. It was very crooked, and the case looked bad for the surgeon. But McKinley had botfc his eyes open, as usual, and fixed them keenly en the man's other leg. As soon as the plaintiff was under cross examination by him he asked that the other leg should also be bared. The plaintiff and his counsel object ed vigorously, but unavailing. Then it appeared that the plaintiff's sec ond leg was still more crooked than that which the surgeon had set. "My client seems to have done bet ter by this man than nature herself did," said McKinley, "and I move that the case be dismissed, with a recom mendation to the plaintiff that he have the other leg broken and then set by the surgeon who set the first one." Bound to Make a Hit. He entered timidly. He stood be fore the editor twisting the brim of his soft, black hat with long, white poetic fingers. "I am sorry," said the editor, "I am very sorry. But we can not use your poem. This is final." Tears welled up in the young man's eyes. He swallowed. "Why?" he said "Well, to be candid," the editor re plied, "neither in prosody nor in con struction is this poem meritorious. The idea is old. The sentiment is maudlin. The expression is atrocious. The rhymes are vile." But now a light as of great joy illumined the poet's face and he cried eagerly: "Give mo back the manuscript. Give it back to me." "Very well," said the editor; "but 1 don't see what you can do with it." "Set it to music," cried the poet. "Make a popular song of it. With the qualifications you ascribe it un doubtedly will be the hit of the sea son." On the Run. Rev. Kong Yin Teb, of Honolulu, was describing in Philadelphia the horrors of leprosy. "An American, a tourist, I suppose, is almost afraid to look at a leper, isn't he?" a Baptist minister asked. "inde'' he is afraid," said Mr. Yin Teb, smiling. "Does he run away?" "Well," Mr. Teb replied, "I would n't quite like to say he runs away. But he retreats pretty briskly. If you saw him going for a doctor at that speed you would be altogether warranted in thinking that somebody was dreadfully sick." Merely Prolonging It. "But," suggested the man who thought he knew, "when your wife gets started on an embarrassing sub ject why don't you change the sub ject?" "Huh!" snorted the man who did know, "she'd simply exhaust the new subject, and then take up the old one where she'd left off." Burning It Up. "Jagley slept in the lockup, I be lieve. Drunk and disorderly, eh?" M,Sh! He says he was guilty of arson." "What?" "He thinks that sounds better. He was burning his money, you know." i. - JL-S. Jkf. -A Hii ft -J&fj&s' JS..'..i LINCOLN'S DEEP HUMILITY Pride of Pl&cs or Power Never a Fault of the Great President They tell us that Lincoln's favor ite poem was that familiar hymn, so simple, so generally neglected by the mass of mankind, "Oh, Why Should the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud?" Do you know there is something most touchingly pcthetic in that? Think of the position Lincoln occupied the most exalted in the world. Surely it is that Then think of the time in which Lincoln filled this place of so great distinction. History was being made every second of the time history so momentous in its bearings on the fu ture of the human race as to over shadow all other events, in what we usually call "profane history." The tasks to be performed, the perplexities to be met were stupendous. The fate of armies, aye, the fate of nations, in deed the fate of the race hung in the balance and depended on whether this man should perform the tasks, meet the perplexities, solve the complex problems of the hour aright, or blun der and fail in his administration of his high office. He must have been keenly conscious all the time of his name, the name he wrote so often, the name so familiar to his eye and ear, the name which had been his when a child, when a boy as well as when President, "Abraham Lincoln." was to appear in the pages of the world's history as long as men should read history. That name was to stand out like a beacon light on the top of a mountain before all ages. This was to be so whether he succeeded or fail ed in the performance of his task. Come what might, his was to be "one of those immortal names that were not born to die." Think of this; and was it not pa thetic that the great, patient, grim figure should sit there with the great events of civil war surging around him, with hosts of men marching past his windows, going "to do or die" for their country. Great generals, dust covered and begrimed with the mud of the war, bloodstained with the lash of battle, cast down by defeat, or flushed with victory, bent before him. The statesmen of the nation, the greatest sons of all the soil, stood to hear his commands, and every wish LINCOLN IN BBBH'BBBHfBBBBnBflBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBVl BBBBBBvBBBBbPBBBR0BBbBBBBBBBbBb1bBBBBBBBBBBBBi ILsBBE'MaaavawaHr C&919bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbV IIbbbtc;-jMEbbmbw &: vIPIHBbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbI IfsVawawPP v- "fmm v X safm. aawawaa 1VyiBifc a TbbV Hbbbbbbbbbh ESaVflESr BBBBBk- jSaVMsaaW KnBSHM3MBBePSj&iB& jeMJ ibbbIubbbbbbbbbI T '" " A jffBBBBBBBBBBBaHHBBBS(0SHLXBBBfteBr vBBBBBBll . : , - ;P" -.. T.v3BHiW!HMBilMBBBH iBBMIlBBBllpe , BBBSBBBBBBBBBBBwBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBr3BBBBBBBH lBBTBBBBB3Tyy' "vc""'" aeBBBBVBBBBBBBBBBBWBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBF ABBBBBBn BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBr X-- IBBBbWv 'BBBnKQBaBBBBBBBBBflBBiBlBBBBBBBn HelsBBW . 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And there that grim, gaunt figure sat, and in all his weary, lonely hours of all that prolonged struggle, the uppermost thought in his mind, out side of those of his office, wa embod ied in the single lines of that old hymn, "Oh, Why Should the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud?" The great strain which rested on the tired brain of the great President, the awful flood of sadness that surged through his heart with every thought of the great war and all its possibilities and uncertain ties, found relief and solace in those lines. They held him heart and soul bound to a higher power than earth could furnish, to a reliance on a higher wisdom than statesmen have, to a stronger arm than wielded anv earth ly sword. The battle was not his. and its results did not rest at last with him. To do his best, to exer cise all the wisdom he had, to be loyal to his duty and leave results with One whom he had learned to call the "God of Battles," the "Lord of Hosts." was all he could do. and, play ing such a part as that, not able to foresee the issue, often in doubt .vh ether he was doing the right thing at the right time, in the right wa3 "O, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?" Why should it be, to be sure? And if Lincoln sat all through so many lonely hours of dismay, donbt and anxiety, of great deeds, of events that stirred the nations, of achievements whose echoes ran around the world WHAT MADE LINCOLN GREAT The purchase by R. F. Collier of New York of the birthplace of Abra ham Lincoln was a gracious and pa triotic act. The soil that gave birth to that majestic man and martyr is more sac red than common clay. The sale of the old Kentucky farm has given rise to a new discussion of the old debate as to the forces that shaped Mr. Lincoln's life. Discarding as rhetorical the state ment of Henry Watterson, made in his lecture on Lincoln, that the great emancipator was inspired as Moses was inspired, the question is pertin ent: , What made Lincoln great? Hered ity, environment or personal endeav-,-or? And the answer is all of these forces. He had something from heredity.' Like all great men he had a great mother. He had something from environ ment. Lack of advantages stlmalated his endeavor and" in this Invert way ... sr., --aM- ipf-.YpjfjBjfjijfffcV f ..a j,rr, and must re-echo to the last syllable of recorded time, why should the spirit of little men be proud? The hu man race bos done great things. But the race did them, .not the Individual. Our share in any of the great achieve ments of the world is small. The part of the greatest man is small in them. The part of any generation is small. We are not so great after all, that any one of us should feel undue conceit in anything accomplished by the race, still less of our part in it. Man in his higher stages of development, the highly organized human being, civil ized man, lived at least 6,000 years on the earth before he discovered the fact that a load will move more eas ily if the vehicle which carries it is placed on a steel rail and set above the mud than If sunken in the soil. The Baltic as she plows her great bulk through the seas is certainly a wonderful thing. But it required a great many generations to get to it The use of the electric current is amazing, but it is the result of thou sands of years of human thought and effort. Tennyson is right "We men are but a little race." MADE PRESIDENT HIS DEBTOR. Citizen's Interview Short, but He , Twice Saved Lincoln. During the civil war Noel P. Aldrich of Croton, Iowa, visited the White House for the purpose of presenting his claim for an appointment in the army. Although much younger than the President, he resembled Mr. Lin coln in height and breadth, as well as facially. Upon entering the reception room, Mr. Aldrich observed that fifteen or more individuals were ahead of him, and, concluding that he would be obliged to wait for some time, he sought a chair, placed it at the other end of the long table, facing the Pres ident, and became a very much inter ested looker-on. He noted the eagei looks of hope or apprehension as the Individuals had their turns, and he noted the fact that, for some reason or other, Mr. Lincoln said "No" to them, but in a very engaging, pleas ant and deprecating way. EARLY YOUTH. While this play was going on before him. the Spanish minister entered, ac companied by a couple of admirals or ' other high officers of the Spanish navy, to pay their lespects to the Pres ident, and they walked directly toward Mr. Aldrich. The President saw what was going on, and he nodded his head earnestly, so that Mr. Aldrich under stood his meaning, and he arose, greet ed the visitors, said a few words ex pressing appreciation for the call, and they departed, under the impression that they had spoken to President Lincoln, the latter having carefully screened himself (sitting down), be hind the squad of office-seekers at his end of the 'e. When it jie his turn Mr. Aldrich said: "I came here, Mr. President, to ask you for an appointment in the army, but, after seeing that you are obliged to say no to everybody, I have concluded that I will not trouble with my request, but will bid you good-by, and wish you lots of good-luck." "I thank you very heartily," said President Lincoln. "You have thus done me two favors in a very brief time. I thank you for entertaining the Spanish visitors, and I thank you for not asking for an office. Now run home quick, or you may repent the latter favor." Los Angeles Times. Value of Diamonds. The average value of diamonds In the rough at New York is $37.50 a karat The price to the public is over $100 a karat, because loss in cutting, labor in cleaving, cutting and polish ing, and dealers' profits. 3 his environment, though unfavorable, was a help. But most of all the forces was per sonal endeavor. This, combined with a high ideal, made Lincoln what he was. When that wilderness mother, Nan cy Hanks Lincoln, died in the log cabin in Spencer county, Indiana, whither the family moved from Ken tucky she put her hands upon the head of 8-year-old Abraham and said: "I'm going away, my boy, but I want you to remember that your moth er wants you to be a good and a useful man." And always, we know, Abraham Lin coln felt his mother's hand upon his head and determined to make his mother's dream of him come true. Pluck, persistence, spirit of endur ance plus a mother's love and long ingmade Abraham Lincoln great. The touch of a vanished hand and the sound of a voice that was still was not the least of the forces la his great life.' YOU WANT Journal BECAUSE: Styles an always up-to-data. ' Work is ruaranteed. Prompt deliTery. Reasonable prices. If we haven't it we will order it W out save men monej osf printed forms; ws can get engraTsd cards for societj people; better styles at lower prices. Journal Sale Bills bring crowds. Journal Letter Heads bring business. Try us. Columbus Journal 60. iiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiniiiiHiiiiiiiniiiiniiiiiin WiMH fAlNA VbbssbbsI BapaMb maaSP 4 bbjsb ajaaBBVaawi aaaaml' aaw aWsaam 4F V SmBl aaaaaila2BaRSaBA fc Tstere a pasat w mnfwm STOPt wlwy Ifcs as "' J f"" ppn BBa y waasBS BBVasasa wasaaaa Bajsaswaw jbsssbb tsswa BPaaV9 WW M aaM fran , amm lm,MlMftaf !, roTkaMr iwfem ftiiljrtgr pmttMwta aattrt thaS SMweMtj agWpyHty SwalMar. - ! yJ mtmmSSSSj pmjmlmr DTmABl.pmiwu. Ukt mu m pl MiMi'wy fr y taaa wSBttTW mw l."' WHEREVER WE HAVE NO AGENT. YOUR OWN DEALER WILL TaET "KINLOOH" FOR YOU. IF SHOWN KINL.OCH PAINT COMPANY. ST. LOUI3..JIO. jiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii TO CHICAGO EAST Without Change of Cars UNION PACIFIC R. R. Chicago- Milwaukee & St. Paul Railway. For Time Tables rnd Special Rates see Union Pacific Agent, or write F. I. MSI, Im'I WastMi lrt, 1524 Fanaa St. OMIWfl. NBBRflSUI. Going East Four fast daily trains via the Union Pacific R.R. and The North-Western Line take you through to Chicago without change of cars over The Only DouMt Trick RaHwiy Brtwtn Hit Missouri RKvsr and CMcafo Pullman standard and tourist sleeping cars, free re clining chair cars and day coaches. Direct connection in Omaha Union Depot with fast daily trains to Sioux City, Mankato, St. Paul, Minneapolis and Duluth. For rates, tickets and full information apply to Agents of the Union Pacific R. I. a. rnjbl AssL ml Frt. S Pass. Asast caisas v awnSwooMro ay. 1201 FARMASl ST. i Kansas Southern Railway KANSAS CITY TO THE OULF pnINQTHROUQH A OfltATER OIVERwITY OF CLIMATE. SOIL AND RESOURCE THAN ANY OTHER RAILWAY IN THE WORLD. FOR ITS LENGTH AlMltUMsrtteaawtlsBaaUdforsTo1afasTOTBjte laaarlMMltfrstlea; , wis, . . i FREE GOVERNMENT HOMESTEADS OkMB i ill lila MamiiHr twtots ea sals asst THt MOST USX. TO 'THE LAND OP lUIUrMJJISIIT" rfMKJ Job Printing rAC'l THIS AD.. BY WRITHM DMEOT TO iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniinii R. or address for awnrasaf Ms ttaibsc; tar wy rw EiMta." SMtaaw SsatrtMriBM. . a. wtwm i kta. awsaMnPflXI gu I