Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 199, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 August 1910 — Page 3

.THE BURGLARS’ I T mm . ' M , I" P ¥ T Tf> Tht burglar txfiaintd: You see, ue are men who have pretty m Hi I J H ~H rotll exhausted tht pleasures of lift, JP# 've 4// bttn in tht Army •r #A# Natty, a// */ us art sportsmen, and tv e are bachelors; st there Isn't much excitement left for us. IVt've started a Burg - Club tt help things on st bit. Tht intranet ftt is a town oy burglary , /A# subject tt be set by tur president,and every other year TT A TT • l t «ofA number has to keep up his subscription by a similar exploit. *’* HCliryH6rln^

The Bishop of Bister's Crozier

The bishop of Bister’s dinner hour was eight o’clock. With unfailing regularity, when at the palace, he entered the drawing-room at 7:58 in order to collect his family and any guests. His annoyance may therefore be understood when at 7:55 on the night in question a servant brought him a card on which was written: “Georgiowitch Kassala, Mush, L. Van, Khurd., craves audience.” “The gentleman is in the examination room, my lord,” the servant added. “A very awkward time for calling,” said the bishop, consulting his watch unnecessarily. Then, with a sigh, “Ask your mistresß to keep dinner back ten minutes.” His lordship ambled to the examination room. A big man in a loose blue cossack-like garb rose at his entrance —a big-limbed, red-bearded man, with enormous eyebrows. He rose, bowed low, and sank on his knees, caught hold of the prelate’s hand, caressed It gently, and finally kissed it. The bishop was embarrassed. He .preferred that sort of thing to be done before an audience, when he would play his part with the best of them, but with no spectators at all he felt uncomfortable. “Rise,” he said gently. The red-bearded man obeyed. “I ® m< —” he began. “I have qome—ah, perhaps I had better show you my papers. I have a letter from my patriarch.” This in excellent English, with just a trace of a foreign accent. From his capacious pocket he drew out a bundle of papers. He abstracted a letter therefrom, and handed it with evident pride to the bishop. It was apparently Greek, yet is was not the language his lordship of Bister had learnt at school and college. Here and there he saw a word he almost knew, yet the next one to it was a perfect stranger. He glanced at the end, There was a big seal, an extraordinary date, an impossible name. His visitor seemed to appreciate the position. “Our patriarch is old.” he said. “He is no longer facile to read. I sometimes have difficulty myself, though I know his writing well. May I read it to you?” He did this with great fluency and emphasis; but the bishop understood nothing, though occasionally he thought he caught the sound of a fleeting particle. ■ The letter was finished. “And this,” said the reader, producing a blue document, “is more earthy.” It was, being from Scotland informing all and sundry that the Nearer Ueorgl)-

The Bishop of Bister.

witch Kassala, a Christian priest, was authorized to collect subscriptions for the church of Saint Barnabas at Mush, in Khurdistan. , “Ah!” said the bishop, with perhaps a shade of disappointment in his voice. "I hope you have been successful.” “Your grace, I have traveled far, and not without recompense. To all I have said, ‘lf you give me money it is well, but if you do not it is still well.’ Some have replied, ‘Then we’ll leave it at that,’ but many have responded. g ee —here is my subscription book. I have begged from Batoum to Bister. I have received money in 15 different coinages, of which the English is the finest and dlfflcultest. Perhaps my most interesting contribution is this—see r a kopeck from Lassitudino JHoapldar, the heathen cook of a Bulgarian wind-jammer, in memory of his maternal uncle, who died from the bite of a mad dog at Varna. And now, being in Bister, I thought, although it is late, I will at once call upon his grace the bishop, whose fame has reached our little town of Mush, whose name Is known by the deep waters of Van.” His lordship sighed. The west end of his cathedral was sinking below the surface. At the present rate of subsidence the dean had calculated

(Copyriprht, IVO9. by W. G. Chapman.) (Copyright by the Author.)

that only the gargoyles would be above ground in the year 3000. This had to be stopped. There was a matter of underpinning for a start, but it costs money to underpin the west end of a cathedral. And all the while the usual subscription lists had to be headed from the palace, and there was more than the usual depression in agriculture. The bishop felt that it was a singularly Inappropriate moment to contribute' to & church in Khurdistan, yet it would not do to discount his own fair fame in that far distant land. He must think the matter over. Meantime he would offer his guest such hospitality as would compensate for the smallness of his contribution. « “My friend,” he said, “your patriarch shall not appeal to me in vain, although, as you may well believe, I have many my purse. But we will speak again of this. You will, of course, spend the night under my roof,, and now, if you will join us at dinner I shall be very pleased.” The priest’s face broke into smiles. “You are most kind,” he replied. “I shall be glad.” Then he glanced doubtfully from the bishop’s evening dress to his own raiment. “Tut, tut,” said his lordship pleasantly. “‘A wash and a brush up,’ as our saying is, and you’ll be all right. Come along.” It was 8:15 when they entered the drawing-room. “My dear,” said the bishop appeasingly to his hungry wife, “I have brought a visitor from Mush, in Asia Minor. Mr. —er —Kassala— Mrs.. Dacre —my daughters.” The visitor bowed low before the ladies. The bishop thought he was going to kneel, so restrained him with a gentle hand. “Here,” he went on, “is my chaplain, Mr. Jones, who will be greatly interested to hear of your work at home. And this,” he concluded, “is our friend, Mr. Marmaduke Percy.” Then they moved to the diningroom. At dinner Mr. Kassala conducted himself with ease, and spoke with great fluency on many matters; so much so that Mr. Marmaduke Percy, no doubt feeling that the Asiatic was monopolizing too much attention, asked him somewhat abruptly where he had acquired his excellent English. “I had it from one of your countrymen, sir,” replied Mr. Kassala, pleasantly. “He was engaged in the smuggling of aniline dyes into Persia. Of course, I did not know his real occupation, or I should have had nothing to do with him. He pretended to import chocolates and acid drops and—-barley-sugar, I thjnk he called it—and such-like things; but they were all filled with aniline colors. In return for language lessons he got me to introduce him to the chief of the Persian frontier customs, whom he bribed for his purposes. He made a large fortune before the shah discovered that the colors of the palace carpets were fading. My friend, the chief of the frontier customs, was beheaded, and three dyers were put into plaster of paris; but the Englishman escaped. His name was Benjamin Watts. Do you happen to know him, sir?” The episcopal circle was just shocked at this recital of their countryman’s perfidy, and Mr. Percy warmly repudiated any knowledge of Mr. Watts. The bishop found his guest profoundly interesting, and he twice made notes in his pocketbook about Asiatic matters. The ladies left the room regretfully. The chaplain, who was of an extremely bashful temperament, now put a question that had been trembling on his tongue all the dinner hour. “Is not your village somewhere near Mount Ararat?” “Certainly. We can see its snowcapped summit quite plainly from Mush. With a telescope we can even discern where the ark rested after the flood.” The bishop looked at his guest reprovingly, for jokes on such matters grieved him deeply. “I mean it, your grace,” said Kassala' “Surely, you heard that the ark itself was discovered about three months ago?” “What?” exclaimed the bishop and the chaplain together. “The ark discovered?” "Certainly,” Kassala replied. “My venerable patriarch had long ed that remnants might be found preserved in the perpetual ice, so ho sought the assistance of Prof. Papineau of Prague who wajs traveling in the east. After months of —what do you call it?—-pro—yes—prospecting— this gentleman discovered an enormous chunk of ice beaming some resemblance in outline to/the object of their search. - The only possible way to remove the ice was by blasting, and Pyof. Papineau inserted a charge of dynamite. A fatal mistake was

made in the size of the charge, with the result that the whole enormous chunk was blown to atoms. Embedded In the fragments were found what were apparently portions of a leviathan ship, which my patriarch and Prof. Papineau regard as being the veritable vessel built by Noah. In no other way but by a universal deluge could it have got on Mount Ararat. But for the mistake made in the size of the charge the structure, of the ark might have been at any rate partially preserved. It was a terrible misfortune, only to be compared to the destruction of the Parthenon by the Venetians. Prof. Papineau was for a long fortnight ill in bed with remorse. He reads a paper on t,he whole incident at the forthcoming Oriental Congress at Prague, “But perhaps I have been indiscreet. Evidently the news has not reached your country, and the professor may wish to be the first to give it to the world. He might resent my telling you, and my patriarch would be grieved. I beg you to keep the information inviolate until you read of Prof. Papineau’s paper at Prague.” The bishop and the chaplain nodded their assent. They seemed to have no words left in them. After breath-ing-space they both pulled out their pocketbooks and made some memoranda. Later the conversation turned on vestments, and such matters. “Do you know, your grace,” said Mr. Kassala, "I have heard that you are the only bishop with a pastoral staff. Is that so?” “No. It’s the other way about. I’m the only bishop who hasn’t one. I alone share with the archbishops the dignity of a crozier. The old crozier of the see is now kept in our chap-

Had the Pleasure of Inspecting the Crozier.

ter house. It was too old for use, so last year the ladies of the county pro» sented me with a new one. If you like, I will show it you. Mr. Jones, I wonder if you would mind bringing my crozier from the library?” Five minutes later the chaplain reappeared, bringing a long case with him. This was duly opened, and Mr. Kassala had then the pleasure of inspecting the crozier presented by the ladies of the county. It was of ebony and gold, and was richly jeweled. It was a work of art well worth the encomiums bestowed upon it by the Asiatic. "With your permission, 7our grace,” he said, “I should very much like to make a water-color sketch of it in order to show to my patriarch, who is deeply interested in such matters. He has a very fine crozier himself. Would you allow me?” “By all means,” said the bishop. “Thank you. I will do it before breakfast in the morning. I am an early riser. I suppose I may find it in this room?" The bishop nodded, but Mr. Percy intervened. “Allow me to take care of it over night, bishop. I don’t think you ought to leave such a valuable article about. There is always the possibility of burglars. I am told there is a gang in the district just now.” The bishop smiled good-humoredly. “I don’t thipk we need consider that eventuality,” he said. “But as you like. Now shall we join the ladies?” Rev. Arthur Jones, his lordship’s chaplain, was a light sleeper at best, and to-night the excitement of Mr. Kassala’s visit kept him particularly wide awake. His thoughts were with the unhappy Prof. Papineau. He was wondering whether it would not be kind to sehd him a letter of sympathy, when his attention was attracted by a noise outside his room. He jumped out of bed and opened his door quietly. Someone was stealthily walking along the corridor. He saw the figure pass a window, and the moonlight fell upon Mr. Kassala. In great wonderment Mr. Jones followed. A turn of the passage brought the Asiatic to the head of the great staircase, and here he stopped so suddenly that the chaplain almost ran into him. For two minutes Mr. Kassala paused in a state of indecision. Then he advanced to a door, and gently opened it. Mr. Joneß was paralyzed with horror. It, was the bishop’s bedroom. What could Mr. Kassala want there? Determined to save his beloved chief, Mr. Jones followed. As he entered the room there was an exclamation from the bishop. Mr. Jones turned involuntarily. As he did so, Mr. Kassala collided with him. The bishop sprang out of bed and switched on the electric light. “Mr. Kassala!” he exclaimed. “And Mr. Jones! Pray, what is the meaning of this?” “A - thousand pardons, your grace,” said the Asiatic. “I have mistaken the room. I wanted Mr. Percy,” At this moment the n£xt door opened, and Mr. Percy appeared.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “That’s what I should like to know,” said the prelate. “Mr. Kassala says he ds looking for you.” “Indeed! What for?” “I—er—was wondering if you had a camel-hair paint brush?” said Mr. Kassala. ~ v “Well, you needn’t wonder any longer. I haven’t,” Mr. Percy replied. “And what do you want, Mr. Jones?” asked the ‘bishop, sternly. “Nothing, my lord, nothing,” said the unhappy Jones. “I was only following Mr. Kassala.” “Then perhaps you’ll follow him to bed,” remarked the bishop, drily. “I hope I shall have a more satisfactory explanation in the morning.” Here, no doubt feeling that the situation was hardly in keeping with his dignity, the bishop closed his door. Mr. Percy did' the same, while Mr. Kassala and the shivering ,Jones returned to their corridor. Mr. Kassala seemed rather amused than otherwise at the situation, but Mr. Jones was permeated with distress. “Cheer up,” said the Asiatic, as he turned into his rosin. “If you will meddle in other people’s business you’re bound to suffer for it.” There was no sleep for the unhappy chaplain that night. He was in love with the eldest Miss Dacre, who, he had reason to believe, returned his affection, and he*‘had determined to see her father on the subject op. the morrow. But after the events of that night such an interview was highly inadvisable. Yet he had acted from the best and most creditable of motives. Only by hearsay was he acquainted -with the habits and customs of the east, but he felt sure that honest Asiatics would not be found prowling about a palace in the mid-

night hours. What did Mr. Kassala want in the bishop’s room? Was it theft or—something worse? Was this self-styled priest the emissary of some eastern organization bent upon destroying the flower of the western hierarchy? Was he a thug? Mr. Jones shuddered at the possibilities of the situation. Ha! What was that? Again a creak outside. For a moment he listened breathlessly. Then he opened his door again. Good gracious! there was Mr. Kassala once more slinking down the corridor. Hastily putting on his dressinggown, Mr. Jones followed, with nerves strung to their highest tension. This time the Asiatic walked with no uncertain step. As he passed the bishop’s door the chaplain’s heart gave a bound of relief. He stopped at Mr. Percy’s door, and tapped gently. The light in the room was turned on, and the door opened by Mr. Percy himself. Mr. Kassala entered, and the door closed noiselessly behind him. For some minutes Mr. Jones stared at the door in blank amazement. Then he turned round, and walked slowly back to his own room. “Where is Mr. Kassala?” were the bishop’s first words on entering the breakfast-room the next morning. Although his lordship had betrayed no consciousness of his existence Mr. Jones felt that the inquiry was leveled at him. “I do not know, my lord,” he answered. “John,” said the bishop to his butler, “will you inform Mr. Kassala that breakfast is on the table?” In a few minutes John returned with the information that Mr. Kassala’s room was empty, that his bbd had rot been slept in, and that nobody had seen him that morning. “This is very singular,” said his lordship. Then, after a pause, “One hardly likes to say so, but I must confess my confidence in the bona fldes of Mr. Kassala has been shaken. You spoke about burglars last night, Marmaduke, in reference to my crozier which seemed to hfeve a -peculiar attraction for Mr, Kassala. I hope it is safe.” “I put the case on the top of my wardrobe last night, and it was there five minutes ago,” said Mr. Percy. “I wonder what his object could be in coming here, and then leaving ug in this extraordinary manner. Perhaps you can throw some light on that very peculiar incident in the middle of the night, Mr. Jones?” “I heard a noise, my lord, and followed Mr. Kassala to see what he was doing. 1 haven’t the faintest idea why he went into your room, unless It really was, as he said, that he had mistaken it for Mr. Percy’s.” “But what should he want With Mr Percy?” asked Mrs. Dacre. “Perhaps Mr. Percy will answer that? ’ said the chaplain, with much meaning in his voice. Mr. Percy fixed the eyeglass and looked coolly at the chaplain. “How on earth should I know, Jones?” he

said. With this oradular remark he returned to his egg. The chaplain was bursting with indignation at Mr. Percy’s concealment of his midnight interview with Mr. Kassala. He longed to expose him, but shrank from the necessity of a painful scene. “Mildred,” said Mrs. Dacre suddenly, “let us look through the drawing-room silver at once. I hope the equestrian statuette of your father is safe.” While the ladies were ticking off their household gods, M r - Percy went to his room to pack, and Mr. Jones followed. "May I have his lordship’s crozier?” asked the chaplain. “Certainly. Here you are. But you do look unhappy, Jones! Whatever is” the matter?” Mr. Jones took the case without replying. “The key was in the lock last night,” he remarked. “Was it? Then it must have dropped out somewhere. Perhaps it’s on the floor.” But it did not seem to be there, although both Mr. Percy and the chaplain looked very carefdlly for it. "Never mind,” said the former, after five minutes’ fruitless search. “It will probably turn up after I’ve gone. Re* r member, that I’ll be responsible for any damage.” The chaplain was very pale. “Mr. Percy,” he said, "I know of your midnight interview with Mr. Kassala.” Once more Mr. Percy fixed his monocle. “Do you, old man?” he replied. “Then I won’t be the one to get you into trouble over it. You may rely on me. If you don’t say anything, I shan’t. Now good-by. It’ll take me all my time to get my things togetber. My man’s 111, and I’m out of practice.” Mr. Jones left the room more bewildered than „ever. His lordship, after leaving stringent instructions regarding Mr. Kassala, should he again appear, went by the noon train to town with Mr. Percy. Mr. Jones appeared singularly distracted that day, and Miss Dacre gazed at him with much concern. He spent the evening alone with Paley, and about eleven o’clock, with firm determination on his face, he forced the lock of the crozier case. His worst fears were realized. In place of the crozier of ebony, gold and jewels, the present of the ladies of the county, there reposed in the purple velvet lining a common bedroom poker. i< At that very moment the bishop of Bister’s crozier lay on the table of a London mansion. Twelve men were gathered round it, complimenting their host upon it. Their host, by the way, was lately his majesty’s secretary of state for Egypt. He w&s now attired in a long blue cassock-like garb, such as Asiatic priests may wear. “By the burglary of the bishop of Bister’s crozier Lord Ribston’s subscription has been paid for the next two years,” said one of the men, making a cipher note in a book. “Hear, hear! Bravo! Good for the Ribston Pippin!” was the general chorus. Gentlemen said the man in the priestly garb, rising to his feet amidst applause, “I am proud once more to have been able to fulfill the mandate

He Saw the Figure Pass a Window.

of our club. With your permission, I will now pack up the bauble so that It may be returned by the midnight express in order to ease of a most worthy man, his lordship’B chaplain. But before I do so I wish to propose a new member —Mr. Marmaduke Percy. You will recollect that his name was brought forward 12 months or so ago, but he was not considered equal to the demands that are occasionally made upon the members of this honorable fraternity. I have reason to believe that we did Mr. Percy an injustice. Yesterday, at any rate, he saw through my disguise, and divined my purpose.-; He could easily have betrayed me. But he behaved In a sportsmanlike way, and for that reason I now propose that he should become one of us. Maj. Armytage is seconding. You will have an opportunity of voting for Mr. Percy at our next meeting. Is there any further business before as, Mr. Secretary?” The secretary consulted his book. “T note that Mr. Danby Travers’ subscription is due,” he said. “Good old Danby! Pile it on! Make it thick enough!” was the varied cry. "Gentlemen,” said the secretary, “we meet on Tuesday next, and Mr. Danby Travers will then be asked for the Black Pearl of Agni, the property of the Illingworths.”

ISOMom k—a ..by WILBUR D NILPBTT Tnc KjJ-cg) The king of Annam had a wife—(ln fact, he had a hundred, And sometimes when he thought on Ufa He wondered If he’d blundered.) The king of Annam had a wife, Her name was Puttater, Her face was like a carving knife, The color of a gaiter. The king of Annam used to call His wives to him and scan ’em And sigh to think he’d cornered all The talk there was In Annam. Puttater, though—(we set this down Without a thought of malice Could make him shudder ’neath hfs crown, For she would rule the palace. Talk of the king of Annam’s might! Puttater’s moods were flighty, And were she either wrong or right. This queen was Annamighty! The king he trembled at her feet And vowed no queen was greater; He craftily said she was sweet— He called her “sweet Puttater!” But still she ruled as palace boss And still the poor king trembled. And while In truth he oft was cross, With cunning he dissembled Until at last he planned a way ■ To stop the royal broiler; He said: “Broiled, fried or She’ll be, or else we'll boll ’er!” He called the stately palace chef And wrote bis list of dishes. Because the chef was slightly deaf And could not hear his wishes. The chef obeyed the hungry king. He made sauce for Puttater, Who always was a saucy thing. And then the glad king ate ’er. He ate his sweet Puttater, yes! —-—■ —■ But now the cables tell us The king exists in much distress— Puttater was so jealous That even when she had been cooked, In truth, had ceased from being. Her temper still would not be brooked— She went on disagreeing.

He Won.

To while away the tedium of the railway trip, the excursionists chipped In and formed a pool. The money was to go to the passenger who could prove his claim to the most unique distinction. One after another set up some claim and enumerated the points in its favor, but none seemed particularly to impress the judges until a gentleman arose and said: “Myself, my wife and eight children are going to the country to spend a month with relatives." "Huh!” observed several of those present. “So are all the rest of us.” “But,” argues the claimant, “here is the letter inviting us to come, and even the most casual inspection of the letter will prove that it was entirely unsolicited."

Much in a Name.

“I hear you won a big sum on the last race." “Yes; I had a hot tip on Politician." “Politician? Why, I was told not to risk any money on him." "So was I. But I knew it was safe to play him for place.”

The Puzzled Dog.

I know that my ancestors brought th« fleas When they were out with Noah in th«* ark, But will you kindly tell me, if you please. If it was they, or Noah, brought the bark?'*

Explanation Offered.

"This pie,” said the young husband, looking at his wife with a peculiar light in his eye, "this pumpkin pie is not a bit like the ones mother used to bake*." "Oh, it isn't?" she sniffed. “Well, maybe you had better go—" “NO. It lm'f* he interrupted, "t c~n cut tins one.” Mean Old Thlnfl.c, •Tour wife,” says one of the men lm the background, “seems greatly pre* occupied tonight.” “Yes,” answers the husband. “I didn’t want her to hear what I was telling you, so I whispered to her that her hat was not on straight.”