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.
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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.