Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 207, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 September 1915 — Page 3

HIS LOVE STORY

By MARIE VAN VORST

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SYNOPSIS. —*l6 " Le Comte d«» Mbron, captain of French cavalry, takes Ut his quarters to raise by hand a motherless Irish terrier pup, and names It Pttchoune. He dines with the Marquise d’Esclignac and meets Miss Julia Redmond, American heiress. He is ordered to Algiers but is not allowed to take servants or dogs. Miss Redmond takes care of Pltohoune, who, longing for his master, runs away from her. The marquise plans to marry Julia to the Due 4e Tremont. Pitchoune follows Sabron to Algiers, dog and master meet, and Sabron gets permission to keep his dog with him. The Due de Tremont finds the American heiress capricious. Sabron, wounded in an engagement, falls Into the dry bed of a river and is watched over by Pitchoune. After a horrible night and day Pitchoune leaves him. Tremont takes Julia and the marquise to Algiers In his yacht but has doubts about Julia’s Red Cross mission. After long search Julia gets trace of Sabron’s whereabouts. Julia for the moment turns matchmaker in behalf of Tremont. Hammet Abou tells the Marquise where he thinks Sabron may be found. Tremout decides to go with Hammet Abou to find Sabron. Pitchoune finds a village, twelve hours journey away, and somehow makes Fatou Annl understand his master's desperate pltght. Sabron is rescued by the village men but grows weaker without proper care. Tremont goes into the desert with the caravan in search of Sabron. Julia follows with Madame de la Maine, whom Tremont loves. CHAPTER XXlV—Continued. At night as he lay in his bed in his tent, Tremont and Hammet Abou cooled his temples with water from the earthen bottles, where the sweet ooze stood out humid and refreshing on the damp clay. They gave him acid and cooling drinks, and now and then Sabron would smile on Tremont, calling him “petit frere,” and Tremont heard the words with molßture in his eyes, remembering what he had said to the Marquise d’Esclignac about being Sabron’s brother. Once or twice the soldier murmured a woman’s name, but Tremont could not catch it, and once he said to the duke: “Sing! Sing!” The Frenchman obeyed docilely, humming In an agreeable barytone the snatches of song he could remember, "La Fille de Madame Angot,” “II Trovatore;” running them into more modern opera, “La Veuve Joyeuse.” But the lines creased in Sabron’s forehead Indicated that the singer had not yet found the music which haunted the memory of the sick man. “Sing!” he would repeat, fixing his hollow eyes on his companion, and Tremont complied faithfully. Finally, his own thoughts going back to early days, he hummed tunes that he and a certain little girl had Bung at their games in the allees of an old chateau In the valley of the Indre. “Sonnez les matines Ding—din—don,” and other children’s melodies. In those nights, on that desolate way, alone, in a traveling tent, at the side of a man he scarcely knew, Robert de Tremont learned serious lessons. He had been a soldier himself, but his life had been an inconsequent one. He had lived as he liked, behind him always the bitterness of an early deception. But he-had been too young to break his heart at seventeen. He had lived through much since the day his father exiled him to Africa. Therese had become a dream, a memory around which he did not always let his thoughts linger. When he had seen her again after her husband’s death and found her free, he was already absorbed in the worldly life of an ambitious young man. He had not known how much he loved her until in the Villa des Bougainvilleas he had seen and contrasted her with Julia Redmond. All the charm for him of the past returned, and he that, as money goes, he was poor—she was poorer. The difficulties of the marriage made him dll the more secure In his determination that nothing should separate him again from this woman. By Sabron’B bed he hummed his little insignificant tunes, and his heart longed for the woman. When once or twice on the return Journey they had been threatened by the engulfing sand storm he had prayed not to die before be could again clasp her in his arms. Sweet, tantalizing, exquisite with the passion of young love, there came to him the memories of the moonlight nighta on the terrace of the old chateau. He saw her in the pretty girlish dresses of long ago, the melancholy droop of her quivering mouth, her bare young arms, and smelled the fragrance of her hair as he kissed her. So humming his soothing melodies to the sick man, with his voice softehed by. his memories, he soothed Sabron. Sabron closed his eyes, the creases in his forehead disappeared as though brushed away by a tender hand. Perhaps the sleep was due to the fact that, unconsciously, Tremont slipped into humming a tone which Miss Redmond had song in the Villa des Bougainvilleas, and of whose English words De Tremont was quite ignorant. “Will he last until Algiers, Hammet ▲boar* “What will be will be. monsieur!” Abou replied. “He must,” De Tremont answered fiercely. “He shalL” He became serious sad meditative

on those silent days, and his blue eyes, where the very whites were burned, began to wear the far-away, mysterious look of the traveler across long distances. During the last sand storm he Btood, with the camels, round Sabron’s litter, a human shade and shield, and when the storm ceased he fell like one dead, and the Arabs pulled off his boots and put him to bed like a child. One sundown, as they traveled into the afterglow with the East behind them, when Tremont thought he could not endure another day of the voyage, when the pallor and waxlness of Sabron’s face were like death itself, Hammet Abou, who rode ahead, cried out and pulled up his camel short He waved him arm. “A caravan, monsieur.” - In the distance they saw the tents, like lotus leaves, scattered on the pink sands, and the dark shadows of the Arabs and the couchant beasts, and the glow of the encampment fire. “An encampment, monsieur!” Tremont sighed. He drew the curtain of the litter and looked in upon Sabron, who was sleeping. His set features, the growth of his uncut beard, the long fringe of his eyes, his dark hair upon his forehead, his wan transparency —with the peace upon his face, he might have been a figure of Christ waiting for sepulture. Tremont cried to him: “Sabron, mon vieux Charles, reveille-toi! We are in sight of human beings!” But Sabron gave no sign that he heard or cared. Throughout the journey across the desert, Pitchoune had ridden at his will and according to his taste, sometimes journeying for the entire day perched upon Tremont’s camel. He sat like a little figurehead or a mascot, with ears pointed northward and his keen nose sniffing the desert air. Sometimes he would take the same position on one of the mules that carried Sabron’s litter, at his master’s feet. There he would lie hour after hour, with his soft eyes fixed with understanding sympathy upon Sabron’s face. He was, as he had been to Fatou Anni, a kind of fetish —the caravan adored him. Now from his position at Sabron’s feet, he crawled up and licked his master’s hand. “Charles!" Tremont cried, and lifted the soldier’s hand. Sabron opened his eyes. He was sane. The glimmer of a smile touched his lips. He said Tremont’s name, recognized him. “Are we home?” he asked weakly. “Is it France?” Tremont turned and dashed away a tear. He drew the curtains of the litter and now walked beside it, his legs feeling like cotton and his heart beating. As they came up toward the encampment, two people rode out to meet them, two women in white riding habits, on stallions, and as the evening breeze fluttered the veils from their helmets, they seemed to be flags of welcome. Under his helmet Tremont was red and burned. He had a short, rough growth of beard. Therese de la Maine and Julia Redmond rode up. Tremont recognized them, and came forward, half staggering. He looked at Julia and smiled, and pointed with his left hand toward the litter; but he went directly up to Madame de la Maine, who sat immovable on her little stallion. Tremont seemed to gather her in his arms. He lifted her down to him. Julia Redmond’s eyes were on the litter, whose curtains were stirring in the breeze. Hammet Abou, with a profound salaam, came forward to her. “Mademoiselle," v he said, respectfully, "he lives. 1 have kept my word.” Pitchoune sprang from the litter and ran over the sands to Julia Redmond. She dismounted from her horse alone and called him: "Pitchoune! Pitr choune!” Kneeling.down on the desert, she stooped to caress him, and he crouched at her feet, licking her hands. CHAPTER XXV. Aa Handsome Does. When Sabron next opened his eyes he fancied that he was at home in his old room fax Rouen, in the house where he was bora, in the little room in which, as a child, dressed In his dimity night gown, he had sat up in his bed by candle light to learn his letters from the cookery book. The room was snowy white. Outside the window he heard a bird sing, and near by, he heard a dog’s smothered bark. Then he knew that he was not at home or a child, for with the languor and weakness came his memory. A quiet nurse in a hospital dress was sitting by his bed, and Pitchoune rose from the foot of the bed and looked at him adoringly. He was in a hospital in Algiers. "Pitchoune,” he murmured, not knowing the name of his other companion, “where are we, old fellow r The nurse replied in an agreeable Anglo-Saxon French:

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, INP.

-Toa are in a French hospital hi Ah | glers, sir, and doing welL” Tremont came up to him. *T remember you,” Sabron said. “To* have been near me a dozen times lately." “You must not talk, mon vieux.” “But I feel as though I must talk a great deal. Didn't you come for me Into the desert?” Tremont, healthy, vigorous, tanned, gay and cheerful, seemed good looking to poor Sabron, who gazed np at him with touching gratitude. "I think I remember everything, I think I shall never forget it,” he said, and lifted his hand feebly. Robert de Tremont took it “Haven’t we traveled far together, Tremont?” “Yes,” nodded the ether, affected, "but you must sleep now. We will talk about it over our cigars and liquors soon.” Sabron smiled faintly. His clear mind was regaining its balance, and thoughts began to sweep over it cruelly fast He looked at his rescuer, and to him the other’s radiance meant simply that ha> was engaged to Miss Redmond. Of course that was natural. Sabron tried to accept it and to be glad for the happiness of the man who had rescued him. But as he thought this, he wondered why he had been rescued and shut his eyes so that Tremont might not see his weakness. He said hesitatingly: “I am haunted by a melody, a tune. Could you help me? It won’t come.” “It’s not the “Marseillaise?” asked the other, sitting down by his side and pulling Pltchoune’s ears. “Oh, no!" "There will be singing in the ward shortly. A Red Cross nurse comes to sing to the patients. She may help you to remember.” Sabron renounced in despair. Haunting, tantalizing in his brain and illusive, the notes began and stopped, began and stopped. He wanted to ask his friend a thousand questions. How he had come to him, why he had come to him, how he knew. ... He gave it all up and dozed, and while he slept the sweet sleep of those who are to recover, he heard the sound of a worn-

Threatened by the Engulfing Sandstorm.

an’s voice in the distance, singing, one after another, familiar melodies, and finally he heard the “Kyrie Eleison,” and to its music Sabron again fell asleep. The next day he received a visitor. It was not an easy matter to introduce visitors to his bedside, for Pitchoune objected. Pitchoune received the Marquise d’Esclignac with great displeasure. “Is he a thoroughbred?” asked-the Marquise d’Esclignac. “He has behaved like one,” replied the officer. There was a silence. The Marquise d’Esclignac was wondering what her niece saw in the pale man so near still to the borders of the other world. "You will be leaving the army, of course,” she murmured, looking at him interestedly. “Madame!” said the Capitaine de Sabron, with hia blood—all that was in him —rising to his cheeks. “I mean that France has done nothing for you. France did not rescue you and you may feel like seeking a more—another career.” (TO BE CONTINUED.)

St, Bride of Ireland.

St Bride, the patroness of Ireland and of Fleet street, whose feast falls in February, was the beautiful daughter of a bard who became the religious disciple of St Patrick and abbesß of Kildare. The story of. St Bride, or Bridget bred the Celtic imagination, and in Ireland about twenty parishes bear the name of Kilbride. The spire of ber church in Fleet street has been twice struck by lightning and much reduced from the original height but is still one of the tallest steeples 1q London. It Is supposed to have been designed by Wren’s young daughter.— Pall Mall Gazette.

Have a Good Bed.

In Farm and Fireside a contributor, -writing a practical article abou* mattresses and other provisions for beds, makes the following general comment: ' “In furnishing a home the housewife should give moat careful thought to the beds and their equipment. We spend at least a third of ourilves In bed, and it is worth while to make that third pleasant and refreshing. The best mattresses and springs are none too good when one Is storing up strength fen- some work. Besides, as is the case with most household pur* chases, the best are really the chea» ■■t in the end.”

LUBLIN CASTLE AND FORTRESS

Lublin was considered one of the chief gateways to Warsaw, and Its capture by the Germans was necessary to the taking of the Polish capital. The photograph shows the famous castle and part of the fortress of Lublin.

BOOKS BY MILLION

Nation Has 18,000 Libraries With 75,000,000 Volumes. Bureau of Education of the Federal Government Compiles Some Interesting Statistics on the Subject —Distribution Uneven. Washington.—There are 18,000 regularly established libraries in the United States, containing more than 76,000,000 volumes, according to statistics Just compiled by the United States bureau of education. The number of volumes is an increase of 20,000,000 since 1908. Of the 2,849 libraries containing 6,000 volmes or over, 1,844 are classified as “public and society libraries” and 1,006 are school and college libraries. Public and society libraries have an aggregate of over 60,000,000 volumes, with 7,000,000 borrowers’ cards in force; 1,446 of these libraries were entirely free to the public. Libraries reporting from 1,000 to 6,000 volumes numbered 6,453, of which 2,188 were public and society libraries and 3,265 school libraries. These libraries contained 11,689,942 volumes. Another group of still smaller libraries, comprising those that reported from 300 to 1,000 volumes, increased the total by 2,961,007 volumes. The distribution of library facilities is still uneven. Of the 1,844 public and society libraries reported for the entire United States, more than half were in the North Atlantic states, and they contained 24,627,921 volumes out of the total of 60,000,000; and of the 3,000,000 volumes added to library collections for the year 1913 almost one-' half were for the same section. New York state had 7,842,621 volumes in her 214 libraries; Massachusetts, 7,380,024 in 288 libraries; Pennsylvania, 3,728,070, and Illinois 3,168,765 volumes. Four-fifths of the borrowers’ cards in use were in the North Atlantic and North Central states.

IS POPULAR AT NEWPORT

Mme. Bakhmetieff, wife of the Russian ambassador to Washington, has been active as a hostess at Newport during the latter part of the summer.

MAN HAS QUEER AFFLICTION

Can Talk to Animals, But Is Unable to Bpeak to Friends Except at Diatance. Crane, Mo. —Physicians are puzzled by an ailment which strikes W. H. Hilton dumb when he attempts to address persons near him, but permits him to speak plainly when addressing persons at a distance or when talking to animals. ' Hilton is a termer near here and i*«« suffered with the affliction since he had the whooping cough two years ago. He is stxty-flve years old.

RUM AS A BUTTERFLY LURE

California Woman Finds Good Profit In Running a Bar for Moths and Millers. Los Angeles. —Mrs. C. S. Elgin of San Benito county, who is visiting in Sawtella with friends, has given her acquaintances an impetus to join the butterfly catching brigade as an occupation that yields a harvest of gold for the little time devoted to it. She says that while wandering on a hillside near her home one morning she succeeded in capturing 20 perfect specimens of the Pergabus Swallowtail and received $7 each for the females and $4 for the males. The excursion proved so profitable that she has gone into the business and is now breeding butterflies, moths and millers of the rare varieties much sought to be added to the collections of colleges and millionaires who are riding the butterfly hobby. Before capturing enough females and eggs to establish her breeding pen Mrs. Elgin discarded the old-time method of catching the elusive winged beauties by means of the net and at the end of a long stick. She says her method was to attract them at night by means of lights and sweetened bait. The nectar used was a combination of stale beer, rum and molasses. One taste of the tempting decoction calls for more. Soon the butterflies are in such a state of intoxication that it is no trick to effect their capture by flicking them into cyanide bottles.

HISTORIC GUM TREE GONE

Venerable Forest King Is Torn Up When Cars Get Away From Engine. Florence, S. C. —The Atlantic Coast line recently constructed a commercial sidetrack on South Barringer, between East Evans and Cheeves street, for the Pee-Dee brick works to use In receiving bricks from their yards. The track switches off from the Evans street crossing and is quite a down chute for about 300 yards and ran directly up against a large sweet gum tree, which was left there for what is known in railroad parlance as a “butting block.” A few days ago a switcher attempted to place four cars of brick “down in the pit,” and as the engine was too light to hold them back they struck the tree such a hard blow that it leveled it to the ground as easily as if it had been pulled over with block and tackle. The tree had been standing there for 40 years or more.

HER NAME WAS ON OVERALLS

Woman Wins Candy Man for Husband in Unusual Romance in Indiana. Clinton,'lnd. —A romance, traced to an overall pocket, has been revealed in the marriage here of R. Lee Fitts, a caramel cutter of Bloomington, 111., and Miss Mabel Richards, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Edwin Richards of Clinton. Miss Richards is one of 130 Clinton girls employed in the Lewin overall factory of Clinton. She tucked her name and address into the pocket of a pair of overalls made last winter. The candy man, then working in Aurora, 111., pulled the slip of paper out of a pocket of a newly bought pair of overalls.

SMALLEST KNIFE IN WORLD

Pennsylvania Jeweler Manufactures One That Weighs Only Oney third of a Grain. 'i . Altoona. Pa. —What Is perhaps the smallest penknife in the world has Jhst been completed by M. A. Kaufman, employed in a jewelry store here. It measures 5-32 of an inch in length, with a blade less than 2-16 6f an inch long and weighs a third of a grain. The handle is of solid gold, while the blade and spring are of tempered steel. The- knife Is kept in a glass bottle to prevent losing it. The workmanship must be seen through a magnifying glass.

BOY IS A WONDER

California Prodigy Amazes Wist Schoolteachers. t ~ ~ At the Age of Eight, Youth Hae Knowledge of Stare, Chemistry, History, Geology and Other Sciences. San Francisco. —With no schooling except nature and books, supplemented by the help of his parents, eight-year-old Richard Carey hae left his father’s isolated farm in the rugged slopes back of Santa Rosa and come to San Francisco, an astronomer, chemist, historian, geologist and botanist. The lad’s extraordinary versatility, clearness of understanding, retentive memory and conception of serious subjects is amazing Dr. Frederick Burke, principal of the San Francisco Normal, school, where he is receiving special instruction during the summer months. He was brought here by his mother, Mrs. Brook Carey, to benefit by the summer course. Until little Richard enrolled at the Normal school two days ago he had never attended school. His extraordinary education is the.result of application on subjects which he fancied and the assistance of his parents — teaching him how to study from nature and books. At the age of five he collected 200 railroad time tables and' studied them until he knew every route and every time schedule. At six he classified all the kings in the world’s history, including those of the ancient empires and the Manchu dynasty. Has studied astronomy until he can name the planets of the first magnitude, the principal constellations, 10-cate -cate with a telescope all stars of importance and calculate when comets will return. Studied chemistry, knows chemical symbols and understands many important chemical actions. Learned the names of all trees, shrubs and flowers and calls them by their Latin appellations. Studied geology and can describe and distinguish rock formations. Has studied botany and now is trying to cross hollyhocks to produce better flowers.

CHUM OF WILSON’S COUSIN

Mrs. Norman Galt, who has been the guest at Harlakenden House of the president’s cousin, Miss Helen Woodrow Bones, has long been identified with Washington. Her husband was a member of a jewelry firm established on Pennsylvania avenue when Jefferson was president, and since his death in 1908 she has lived with her mother, Mrs. Bolling, in the Galt residence on Twentieth street. Mrs. Galt, before her marriage in 1895, was Miss Edith Bolling, the daughter of Judge W. H. Bolling of Wytheville, Va. The friends of the presidential household are more or less in the national eye, and so Mrs. Galt, who has always shunned social publicity, has come into sudden prominence as one of the few familiar guests at the White House. The picture shows Mrs. Galt with President Wilson at a ball game in Washington.

BIGGEST LOAD OF WHEAT

Kansas Man Brings 12,850 Pounds of Grain to Market on One Wagon. Hutchinson, Kan. —What J. B. Baker, president of the Hutchinson board of trade, declares is the biggest load of wheat ever hauled to market in Kansas on a single wagon was received by the Rock Mill and Elevator company recently. The load was weighed by the Rock company’s scales and tipped the beam at 12,850 pounds, or more than six tons of wheat. There were on the wagon 214 bushels, ten pounds of wheat.

Mud Saved His Life.

Los Angeles, Cal—Eddie Mustek escaped death when his biplane plunged 100 feet to earth at Venice, because he was buried neck-deep in a slimy bog in the middle of the aviation field. The way in which his machine fell would have dashed him to instant death if he had not landed in the mud- ■ The plane is a total wreck, except foci the motor.

City Pays for Her Gown.

Grand Rapids, Mich.—Mrs. Andrew Zurfluh has received $lO from the city of Grand Rapids for damages to her dress while crossing the street, when the gown was spattered with mud Her original claim wee tor sl7.