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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (June 29, 1913)
TTTE" SUNDAY DTTC:GOT?TAX, PORTLAND, JTJXE 29, 1913. 5 fjAD Swede f1mglishl km t 1ii August Strinclberg's Writings on Love, Religion and Marriage Occupy Literary Spotlight BT STANHOPE TV. SPRIGG. LONDON. June 20. It is said that1 Ibsen prophesied of Strindberg, who is the new English idol and whose photograph stod on his writing desk: "There Is one who will be greater than I." In this remark is much more than disguised self-praise. Strindberg was, artistically speaking, enviably multiple madman and alien ist In one, a person who could wander from a fairyland of fancy to an inferno of suspicion and fear, and yet show no consciousness of sudden or violent or unjustified system of change. For these reasons he has come Into his own In England in the most swift and complete fashion in less than a year from the date of his death. Everybody who reads novels serious ly in London now talks Strindberg, whose portrait appears herewith. To own that one has not groped one's dizzy way through that terrible book. "The Confessions of a Fool," is merely to write oneself down a fool. Only the booksellers look askance at the Strindberg student; and they have a lively fear of a new purity crusade, and the police. Hence. If a man of reasonable years goes into any store and asks for Strindberg, the assistant will demand his name and address be fore he hands over the volume. The same system is applied in Eng land to the sale of poisons. Only the frivolous Jest about It; and they hint that the bookseller makes base com mercial use of this list of the wicked people when he has another daring, outspoken or unpleasant work to sell. Nevertheless, translations of Strlnd berg"s works within the last few weeks have been extraordinarily nu merous. Thus one London house has published his "suite" of twenty tales on married life called "Married"; an other has produced his confession of faith, his weird "Blau Buch," under the title of "Zones of the Spirit"; plays, his autobiography, novels have been Issued by other houses, and now a new firm, Howard Latimer, Ltd., has pub lished a volume of moral fairly tales, "In Midsummer Days," by Strindberg. These tales resemble Mrs. Gatty"s "Parables from Nature" or Hans Ander son when he is in sententious mood, with this difference, which will no doubt commend them to many, that a taint of bitterness takes the place of the charm and happiness which smile Women tznd S&3s-sse5&e . ""--' ' out, even when they smile through tears, from the stories of Hans Ander son. ' The best in the book is the "Story of Jubal, Who Had No T"; in it Strind berg shows how fiercely antl-femlnist he was. Jubal was a singer who took Europe by storm and lost in fame his own personality. At length he mar ried a singer who took away his fame and all he had and left him to marry a baron. So Jubal was without fame or personality; merely the shadow of a shade, until he put his head on his mother's lap and she called him by his real names Gustav, Peal, names which In the days of his fame he had denied. "These were his two real names, and when he heard them from her lips he became himself again. All the parts he had played kings and demons, the maestro and the model cut and ran, and he was but the son of his mother." In the 20 stories in "Married," how ever, we get Strindberg in a different mood that of a daring realist. In fact, these stories form essentially a book for initiates, "for those," says a friend of mine, "who know about Malthus as they do about Milton." On the whole these stories show that he has less quarrel with the instinct for mating than with a certain stinginess of Mother Earth, which the remoteness of the city man from the actual sources of food tends to accentuate. A note implying geniality towards marriage and mating is again and again audible in these pages. The ramparts of Strindberg"s large forehead may not have sufficed to shut out some canine imp of insanity; but he does not here bay at the honeymoon: he knows that honey is sweet and that the moon shines. . All great writers move their readers by style, and Strindberg is no excen tlon. Here is a specimen of his felicity in metapnor: "He got up and sat down again at the piano; he took the music" (of Gounod's Komeo and Juliet") "and turned over the pages as if he were looking for Keepsaites. . . His eyes were rivet ed on the black notes which looked like little birds climbing up and down wire fencing, but where were the Spring songs! ... of the rosy days or rirst lover "Zones of the Spirit" has been de scribed, with some degree of Justifica tion, as a prose version of Francis Thompson's poem. "The Hound of Heaven." Here again the quarry is run down at last to find that his supposed loe was nis rnena arter am A Ger man doctor, Kanmer. who has cone carefully into the subject, has said that Strindberg was not mad when he wrote this "Inferno." It was, in sober truth. the record of an experience like Dante's. So low he fell that all appliances For his salvation were already short. Save showing; him the people of perdition. Strindberg. however, emerged from his hell with one great fact, stamped upon his brain that God had chastised and delivered him. "I should, indeed, be a scoundrel," he says, ""if I dented my Deliverer." He sets his face like flint against the sneers of his old companions, the free-thinkers. The existence of God is no longer a matter of argument to him, but an axiom, and those who cannot accept it are "blockheads." At the same time, as can be seen from the life of the great mad Swede by Miss Llnd-Af-Hageby, the Swedish anti-vivisector. Just ' published by Messrs. Stanley Paul & Co, Strindberg shared with Rousseau an intense ha tred of the unnatural. He was never blinded by sentiment to accept the modern theory that woman is man's equal.' She Is, according to him, in stinctively selfish and without a moral sense, the inferior of man, able, when she will and when she is rigidly kept within her own sphere, to give him happiness and content, but always ca pable of mischief, and when exalted above herself a sheer social danger. He loved the ideal of the womanly woman, the mother who lives for home and children. He came to detest the Intellectual woman; she was to him the man-woman, a danger to the race, the enemy of man, who steals his qualities because she is bent on his destruction. Strindberg and Nietzsche stand to gether as the two great European anti feminists. "Nietzsche thought that the 'beautiful and dangerous cat,' which is woman, should never be visited without a whip. Strindberg would not only bring the whip, but poison to the de feminized monster who wishes to be the rival of man." His madness Miss Llnd would link in some way to marvelous psychic pow ers. "we may turn away with disdain from the pitiful picture of Strindberg at his writing table, warding off the imaginary attacks of elementals. in cubi, lamiae, by thrusts in the air with a Dalmation dagger, and we may smile at the childish superstition with which he accepted the oracular guidance of the cock on the top of Notre Dame, or the direction chosen by the lady bird visiting his manuscript." One thing, however, gives to most people a vital value to the writings of strindberg. It is this. The "advanced' feminist writers are for the most part admittedly lentil-fed and white-blooded, living according to hygienic laws. Incapable of human folly. Strindberg was a man. He sinned and blundered. He passed through a thousand phases. He was Inconsistent, and always him self, and his biographer is entirely jus tified in suggesting that the might have said with Walt Whitman: "I am large I contain multitudes." No doubt Strindberg was essentially the man who knocked his head against stone walls. Marriage, , religion, art he rushed at them one after the other in eccentric fury and passion. Indeed, he took a demoniacal delight in play ing the part of the devil. His tastes in this kind appear in an anecdote of a riot which took place on one occasion between police and people: "A man standing near Strindberg was attacKea by a police inspector, August rushed at the inspector, seized aim by the collar and shook him. ""Let the man goP he cried. " "Who are your asked the astonished Inspector. I am Satan." answered the demon iacal liberator, 'and I shall take you n you aon z let tne reuow erol " Yet, after all the anguish and storms. the manias and the marriages, it should never be forgotten Strlndbergr' died last Spring in peace with religion and the world. were used to this procedure of Jag gert's, but Colby had never heard the great lawyer handle a witness of this haracter before. His . resentment at the treatment of the lad was entirely subservient to his admiration of the ease with which the wily lawyer ac complished his purpose, and he deter mined to profit in the future by this method of cross examination. The prisoner looked contemptuously at his sole dependence for acquittal. ut tne witness was too miserable and confused to feel the scorn. A little red spot or indignation in each cheek man ifested Mrs. Jaggart's feelings. How small, mean, and despicable in Will to treat like that a poor. Ignorant, onest laai" sne thought. "And what business was It of his what the fellow did with his hat! I suppose that mil liner's bill of mine rankles yet, and makes the sight of every hat repug nant to him." The prosecutor arose for his sum ming up. An argument scarcely seemed ecessary, out his two new auditors. his wife and Colby, called for an ex hibition, and he made out a merciless case against the prisoner. He ended tragically, dramatically and overwhelmingly. "Look! he commanded in grand finale "look at the shirt the man is now wearing!" All eyes turned to the prisoner. As he was vestless. a wide expanse of hlrt front was displayed. ' Doesn't that fine linen, that hand- embroidered monogram, subtly impeach the thief and brand, him as a robber of clothes-lines?" Judge, jury and advocates of the law all marveled at the keen observation which nothing, however trivial, es caped. The prisoner stared at the fancy stitching. He had not before been aware of its significance. Mrs. Jag- parts memory gave a tiger-like spring, and she regarded the man with fresh interest. As his eyes came ud from a contemplation of the monogram, they met ners and recognition followed. There was nothing for Colby to sav. but he arose to say it. Before he could speak, there was a Quick rustle of skirts, and Mrs. Jaggart held the noor an dthe surprised attention, of the court. . That's Just like you, William Jag gart! To twist things around to look as if they were really true. The man didn't steal that shirt. I gave it to him myself! He came to the kitchen door to ask for work. It is my brother's shirt one that didn't fit and I worked the monogram J. L. F. James Lang- ey French. I must say I think you are in big business to try and fasten a theft on a poor man whom you know nothing against just to gain your point, and I guess that poor boy over there had a right to do what he pleased with his own hat!" Having delivered herself swlftlv of this speech, Mrs Jaggart swept from the courtroom, and walked home, tell ing herself that, after all, she knew her husband better than other people did, and that he behaved in a. courtroom Just as he did at home. Colby broke the silence. "Your Honor," he asked in a smoth ered tone, but with danclnsr eves. "I ask that the prisoner be discharged." me judge looked sympathetically at Jaggart, and hesitated. I second the motion," said the Pros ecuting Attorney dryly. The cost of his little dinner at the club that night far exceeded his wife's millinery bill. Copyright by The Frank A. Munsey Company. ,JPOJX COURT pomA MRS. JAGGART and her husband breakfasted in their usual man ner. With businesslike gravity he mechanically sipped his coffee and perused the morning paper, forcing an occasional relactant reply to the steady stream of extracts his wife was issu ing from the little pile of letters beside her plate. "You didn't volunteer any informa tion in regard to that communication on top," he said grimly as he turned to1 the editorial page of his newspaper. "It must be a bill!" She raised her eyes serenely, and handed him the document. Yes, it's a bill. My hat. You had better bring me a check for the amount when you come home tonight." He gazed at it fearfully. "Is this the bargain you were telling me aboutT" "Oh, no!" she replied with superior condescension. "That's another one. It's really wonderful how they can Bell a pattern hat so cheap at this time of the year!" she explained, waxing en thusiastic over the subject. "The ma terial " But her husband was returning to his paper with some ostentation, and she realized that his legal mind de clined to follow so trivial a subject After he had left the house, Mrs. Jaggart received a morning visit from a gushing young woman who was at present going in extensively for litera ture and oratory. "Oh, Mrs. Jaggart," she exclaimed ef fusively, "it must be ideal to spend your life with such a 'great-brained man as your husband is!" "Well, I don't know!" replied Mrs. Jaggart doubtfully, recalling the milli nery theme. "He is not always re sponsive.' 1 "I suppose that Is when he is ab sorbed in some great case and can't come down to ordinary things," sug gested the caller. "Of course you go frequently to listen to his wonderful argu men ts." "No; I have never been In a court room," admitted Mrs. Jaggart. "Law subjects seem dreadfully tiresome to me. William says they do to him, too. "What! You never heard one of his famous speeches!" exclaimed the amazed caller. "Why the courtroom is simply crowded when he makes an ar gument Even the Judge Is fasoinated. and he captivates a Jury always. I heard a great Judge say. that uskially an eloquent lawyer was good for noth ing but his oratory, but that Mr. Jag gart was wonderful on cornering a witness on cross-examination that no one could elude him." "I can!" ruminated the great man's spouse, thoughtfully. She found new food for reflection in her guest's dissertation. She was slight ly asnamed of the fact that she had never heard one of her husband's clever arguments. She knew in a vague way that he was well informed and that he was successful; but was he so distin guished as her guest had said, and was she his wife alone ignorant of his true value? Mrs. Jaggart ever acted on impulse, and her Impulses always prompted di rect action. When she had finished slz ing up her husband's greatness from a distance and from other people's standpoints, she donned her wraps and went to the Courthouse. She knew in a vague way that it was the time of year when cases were tried, and as her husband was Prose cuting Attorney of course he would be in court. It chanced to be a day when the calendar was unimportant, and there were scarcely any spectators in the room. Jaggart's expression of amazement when he saw his wife enter gave way to one of apprehension. "Has the furnace fire gone out, the kitten had a fit, or the water pipe burst?" he wondered. She said something to an attendant, who stood near the entrance, and he obsequiously led her up to the inner circle, reserved for brethren of the court and distinguished visitors. "What is It, Georgie?" asked Jaggart anxiously, as he came up to her. "I just wanted to visit court, and hear you try a case," she explained. He looked visibly relieved; then amused. "There's hardly any case on the cal endar worth hearing." he remarked. "Let me see. Oh, yes, there is a poor devil up for petty larceny, a sort of tramp, who is accused of stealing from clothe-llnes." "Who's his lawyer?" "He hasn't any. Probably some young, newly fledged graduate will col unteer for the sake of experience. Let me see ' His eye ran uuickly over BELLE MANIATES the room. "Yes, there's young Colby. He'll probably donate his services." Oh. Fred Colby!" she exclaimed, eager and interested. "He plays an ele gant game of golf. I hope hell win, iou ought to let him to encourage mm and give, him a start." Jaggart laughed. "It's a very clear case. I guess Colby won x. expect to win, or nardly try, ex- ceptto make an effort for form s sake. 'What a farce!" she exclaimed. "There Isn't anything really legal about law : ' Again Jaggart laughed and walked away to repeat her protest to the judge, who grinned appreciatively. The case was called: The People vs, Tate. The prisoner was brought in, and' Mrs. Jaggart's interest and sym- patny went out to him at once because In spite of his shabby, unkempt look there was a something a sort of boy ishness in his face that made her heart yearn to him. She felt sure she had seen him before somewhere, but her erring memory failed to locate when and where. As Jaggart had predicted, Colby' vol unteered, his services and performed his part perfunctorily. The People had a seemingly clear case; even if they had not, the Judge, Jury, Colby and the prisoner knew that the People would win, Decause jaggart had never lost a case. When the prosecution had so tightly coiled the incriminating evidence about the prisoner that extrication seemed impossible, the prisoner's counsel arose. He called his sole witness, a voune-. awkward country lad. who had come to town in search of work, and who had put up at the same cheap lodging-house as naa tne prisoner. After a few ques tions, ostensibly to nut him at ease Colby won from him testimony that was aeciaeaiy ravorable to the prison er. The slow manner and the open nonebt race or tne youth made obvious ly a good impression upon the jury; bu k-oioy, ana, in xact, every one save th luckless witness, knew it would b mere horseplay to Jaggart to dispose or tne testimony or this raw lad. There was something in the relent less eye and manner of the Prosecutln Attorney as he rose and took his vie tlm's measure that gave the youth premonition of the dreadful something coming. ie Degan to move uneasily, and rumDied nervously and unceasing ly with his big. soft, shabby hat as hi waited with a little anticipatory shiver of expectancy for the first question. It did not come in Interrogative form, but as a thundering command. "Put down that hat!" The last spark of intelligence an reason was extinguished in the witness for the defense. He became incoheren and finally, unknown to himserf, con tradicted all his former statements. The Judge and the court habitues Gettysburg Drummer Boys (Continued from Page 4.) -ony-seventh. told me to takn Ms horse and go to Doctor Goodman at tho hospital to get spirits. He said that tne supply was going fast. It was the fastest ride I ever had in mir Hf While I was going over Baltimore pike a came across a strange sight, one that certainly looKecL odd in that war-torn country. An old couple were going along the road, and from their dress 1 presumed that thev were nnnVarrt He had on a stiff top hat and his dark Diue coat had brass buttons: thn olH iaay wore a blue furbelow and carried an umorella. Two men who had been Killed were brought, along right in front of them. The old ladv raJaed both hands and screamed. "Isn't It aw ful?" The old man was Just as horri fied. They looked out of place on that road or death. Courage of the Dying. "Doctor Goodman called the steward as soon as I reached the hospital and my canteen was rilled. I saw quite rew or our boys at the hospital. One especially I will always remember. He was a Corporal and had been badly wounded. They wanted to amputate his log. He said to me: "Will, they won't do it, for I will shoot the first man who touches me. I am married and I won t go home to be a burden on my wire. He was certainly earnest in every word he said. When the sur geons went over to him the second time, intending to cut off his leg. he was dead. "They were fighting like demons when I was returning. The musketry and the artillery fire were terrific. The brigade of the Pennsylvania Reserves had halted, and I recognized Hen Zun dle, the brigade bugler, who was from Mauch Chunk. Just as I reached his side, he sounded the bugle and with a yell the men charged furiously. How proud I was that I was a Pennsylva- nian when boys like those were fight ing her battle. I barely had time to get a word from Hen about the fight, when he was off after his men, with the parting yell, "Good-bye. Bill! hope we'll meet in Mauch Chuck." "The artillery firing that preceded Pickett's charge was terrific. The con cussion was so great that the ground shook. When it was over the men Just stopped and looked at one another. Then the loud yells of the Rebs were heard, and the famous charge began. It was a wonderful sight; it can never be forgotten by those who witnessed it. "The scene on Cemetery Ridge after the battle was something that cannot be described. It was horrible to see the men of the artillery dead and dying against their guns; their dead horses were all about them. "I witnessed another terrible inci dent on Baltimore pike during the ar tillery engagement- Two pieces of Bat tery K, of the Fifth United States Ar tillery, had been placed on the right of the pike. The firing was so rapid that there was a premature explosion and the man at the sponge staff bad both his arms blown off, and he was flung into a ditch. He was a splendid looking fellow before the accident, but a sight to behold afterward. I often wondered what became of him; in all probability he died. "The sight on the battlefield after the battle was something awful. Such a storm as we had on the Fourth I have never witnessed since, and we were all drenched to the skin. I was mighty glad to get away from that field. I as sisted in gathering some of the dead and wounded, and it was anything but pleasant. The dead horses were burned and the odor from the burning horse flesh made our departure smell like an escape from a hateful charael house." (G1TX EMPLOYE ffl jsJMOT WEALTHY. " ' .-'V - 7, i' ? . i , -j I - : ? " f . . f 1 ' e- I 1 ? ' ' ? .: ' ; - .c .. s .;: ; .x- f s. i. . - - .... ... r ..".An r ' r -J rrii'j ; ; mm -v - jv-. fAI-F "" ; - i . ' w--- j; - " .X----. . . .-"'-.'r-. . . .. . . ' " ' '-"" . - .- - , - ' i . , W.,. 'J , ' . . I 'i -t - r ' -' ..-::. v. HERE S the man who handles more money each day than any other person in Portland. For eight hours each day he dabbles in gold, sil ver, greenbacks and bonds. To handle couple of million dollars in a day is nothing. To handle two or three times that much in a day is not unusual. His name is E. W. Paget, and his job is cashier of the Treasury Department of the City of Portland. If all the money Mr Paget has handled In the last four years were put together in a pile there would be more than $100,000,000. If all he has handled in the last six months were piled up to gether there would be close to $14,000, 000. By the end of December his deal ings for this year will have amounted to about $28,000,000. He handles every cent that Is taken in and every cent that is paid out by the city of Portland. None else in the city government touches any of the cash excepting him. Each month he hands out the pay of more than 1000 employes, and each month he takes in the city's revenue from a thousand dif ferent sources. It keeps him busy from morning until night scooping in and handing out the money. ' And the surprising part of it all is that in his transactions, amounting to $100,000,000 he has not made a single mistake. His superiors declare that at no time has there been a variance of a cent in' his accounts. Mr. Paget is one of the oldest of the. city employes. JJe first entered the service as a deputy in the office of the City Engineer and served 10 years. He was City Engineer for five years after that. During the last four years he has been in the Treasurer's office. au Natuxd Wheels Within "Wheels. Judge. Mrs. Crawford I was bo glad to find her out when I called! Mrs. Crabshaw I knew you didn't like each other, so I told her when you were going to call.. Reverie of a Bachelor. Judge. One sweetly solemn thought I bless, with soul serene. I'm safe from leap-year accidents Until Nineteen. Sixteen I f T was good of you to arrange this B v charming little luncheon," said Miss Lorimer quietly.. "When I wrote you that I had something to tell you, I hardly expected an invitatien to Sherry's." "You honor me by accepting it," I answered. The deference in my tone was not out of place with Juliet Lori mer. Her face the kind that Raphael loved the mystery of her smile, the pathetic sweetness . of her low voice, united to make her a shrine by the common pathway, an object of tender reverence, if not adoration. Her very presence made a man realize what a coarse brute he was. She waa that kind of girl. We crossed the nearly empty dining room to our table by the window, and I slipped off her sables, feeling all a servant's outward humbleness; yet -I knew from the gentle graclousness of her manner that I was a fool for think ing so. After perusing the menu and wondering what angels eat In the mid dle of the day, I finally wrote down the most delicate and unsubstantial-sounding concoctions I could find. "I hope I eha"n't shock you by the amount I eat," I apologized in advance, "but I'm very hungry. I thought I'd warn you!" Her soft dark eyes grew larger and she smiled a little. "I suppose she's trying to imagine what "hungry means," I commented to myself. Bt she only said: "No, I don't think you'll shock me. If you could have seen how much Soeur Agatlie ate! "I'm willing to bet that Soeur Agathe's appetite was that of a canary bird's compared to mine!" I gaily in terrupted, and then stopped suddenly as I saw her eyes. Why attempt fa- cetiousness with a seml-rellgeuse de butante? X almost laughed again .at the thought. "Please be. serious." she asked gen tly. "I want to tell you something to make you a confidant. You're the only one I want to know just now, because you're his friend and my father's and I think I think you'll understand." "You mean about Herbert?" I asked quickly. She silently nodded and then hesi tated, as if she found it rather hard to speak. I waited eagerly. At last I was to hear something. Herbert Carr had suddenly gone back to Italy after two years or inspiration gained from Miss Lorimer s lovely face. With her delicate and wonderful in tuition, she had discovered genius where nearly every one else saw un interesting eccentricity, and this she had cultivated until his flowers bade fair to delight the world. He had ded. cated the "Songs of the Lawn" and "Lanna" to her; and the sonnet-cycle that the critics held up with Rossetti and Mrs. Browning bore her name on the title-page, while her soul and her beauty filled the others. It had ap peared simultaneously, here in New York and In London, Just as Herbert sailed for Naples a month before. was thinking of all this, and what a wonderful thing their relations must be. when she finally broke the pause "I wouldn't tell you this If you hadn't been his friend always," she began "but I want somebody really to under stand. Then I don't care what people say. I am engaged to be married. "Of course I can't tell you how' glad I am!" I said in a low voice. "I know how futile mere congratulations are in this case; but I think I realize some thing of how " "Wait a moment!" she interrupted; and then, looking me full in the eye: "You think Im going to marry Mr. Carr. I'm not. It's Billy Colby." Before I could reoover, the waiter had brought the hors d'oeuvres. Then I found difficulty in restraining my self until he had gone. "Not Herbert?" I burst out. "Why, every one thought but we took the whole thing for granted! and Billy Colby! that big boy of a football play er! Oh, Miss Lorimer!" Amazement had bereft me of my manners. T3aT E.'B. 5f1LDR She smiled gently and began toying with her caviar. ".That's why I wanted to see you to explain. I want to make a con fession!" "A confession?" "Yes it's this: Mr. Carr bores me to distraction!" I could say nothing. She went on in the same limpid voice. "People are al ways saying that I made him write those marvelous things. I suppose I did but I ceftainly never meant to. He waa merely a rather odd acquaint ance of mine, until I heard from every one how I had inspired him. Then, of course, I took more Interest. It was quite entertaining for several months!" "Entertaining!" I gasped. , . "Yes, I mean until he began to make love to me. Then he tired me to death. He he didn't know how at all!" "Miss Lorimer!" "It is queer, isn't it? The author of "Larma,' and the sonnets, too. But he didn't! He sat on the other side of the room and , his knees shook! And he said such well, such I really can't explain! Anyway, he bored me." Her eyes were faintly amused. "But why didn't you tell him?" I objected. "Because I felt I had no right to. Can you understand that?" "I think so," said I, after at little pause. "I believed for so long that it was my duty to marry him. I really thought that, but I never seemed able to tell him. Then I sent him back to his be loved Italy to let me think it all out and decide alone." "I suppose Billy Colby helped you," I observed. She launghed one of her low, rare laughs. "He did a little," she admitted; and then became softly serious again. "But I did most of it alone. You see I real ized that if I married him. if I sacri ficed myself on the altar of art, so to speak, he would Inevitably find me out sooner or later, and so lose everything I had given him." "What do you mean?" I asked. "I see I've got to strip off the mask at last! I don't think I could have gone through a whole lifetime hearing Richard Strauss and 'Tristan' when I was Inwardly aching for Montgomery and Stone or Fritz! Scheff. I think my endurance would have snapped at last and I'd have blurted out to him that I liked Gibson better than Whis tler. Oh, if you knew the hours of torture I have suffered with him at Whistler exhibits, trying to be appre ciative!" Her eyes were smiling again. "And if he once found it out, I'm afraid I'm afraid there wouldn't be any more poems. You see I am everything!" I leaned my elbows on the table after the consomme had been removed and looked at her long and curiously. My feeling of reverence had quite gone. I began liking her all over again in a new and attractive way. "How you have taken us all in!" 1 remarked, still gazing at her. She blushed a little. "It was really your fault," she mur mured. "I never meant to. I wrote Mr. Carr last night, announcing my en gagement." "But won't that " "No," she said very quietly. "He will stay in the Italy he has always loved Venice Amalf 1 Florence how be worships them! I sometimes think his love for me is only a part of his love for them. He always called me "Our Lady of the Lilies," you know, and said I should be hanging on the walls of the Pitti with a halo around my head. I know he will never come back he will dream his dreams and sing his songs always to me and I shall be very glad and proud ." Her voice was wonderfully tender. ' "No doubt," I assented with some asperity, "you will go down to history as a second Laura. Certainly you have ILue ea&j enu vi me uo-i gain , ana iua best of it is that people will never be lieve tne iacts or tne case, iney win scent some romantic renunciation and adore you all the more! Aren't you the least little bit ashamed?" . "I can't help being I, can I?" an swered Miss Lorimer. "Although, if it gives you any satisfaction. I will say that a retrousse nose and dimples would have harmonized with my dispo sition." The corners of her exquisite mouth went up and she added: "Like Polly Sanger. But the odd part of It is that I've caught her more than once secretly buried in Maeterlinck!" I made a discovery. "You have a sense of humor!" I stated triumphantly. "He hadn't!" she answered slowly. "He wore tan shoes with his evening clothes once!". "You lucky, lucky girl!" I whis pered; and then I sighed and then smiled. "Now that I stand revealed before you," said Miss Lorimer after a pause, "would you tell me what you have or dered after this this " "Saumon a l'Angellque." I answered. "I hope you like it." "Delicious but may I ask what Is to follow?" "Certainly." said I. wohderingly. "Filet-de-boeuf au Paillard. French peas, reed-birds au something I for get with asparagus tips, and ices on spun sugar with " "May I make a request, since this luncheon is in my honor?" she asked gently. "With pleasure anything you wish." "Then will you countermand all that and order a thick porterhouse rather rare with plenty of fried onions?" "Onions?" And I glanced up invol untarily at her .fragile. Madonna-like loveliness. She read my look, smiled her faint and enigmatic smile, then answered softly: "That's just what I want!" (Copyright by The Frank A. Munsey Company.) Island to Be Cote for Man -Birds AISER W1LHELM has hit upon a I 1 plan to turn a tiny island in the North Sea into a rendezvous for Ger many's great airship fleet. Heligoland is one of the most curious islands in the world. It belonged to Great Britain 20 . years ago, but was given over to Germany in exchange for Zanzibar. The towering cliffs of this island are largely artificial. It was discov ered that the heavy seas were honey combing them and the Island threat ened to be entirely swept away. The German government spent mill ions of dollars in pouring cement into these crevices and preserving this stra tegic point. In addition, it was for midably armed and the utmost secrecy is, maintained as to the strength of Its fortifications. - Visitors are not permitted to land, except in the stuffy little town at the base. They are forbidden to scale the bluffs, whereon the armaments bristle and where gigantic stores of powder are maintained for the Imperial fleet. This island is said to be prepared to withstand a siege of three years.
