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Monsieur’s Mistaile
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Writfen-for CKa Sunny South
. .1TEREVEH human beings
find It possible to eke out
an existence, Monsieur,
the French painter, finds
it convenient to live and
ply his handicraft. If little
tubes of tinfoil may be
purchased and Russian
cigarettes find they way
there, monsieur stows his
easel in some cubhy hole
and paints away and
dreams of Paris.
And so we find Monsieur,
perfectly happy in the little one-horse re
public near the tapering neck of no
where, on that hot July day, painting
and smoking and shrugging his shoulders.
He arose finally and going to as great
a distance as the limited confines of his
room would allow, stood with hl s head
on one side critically regarding his work.
Then he laid by his brush, gave vent to
a satisfied yawn, and lit a cigarette.
Strolling out on the prado in front, he
listened a while to the clanging discords
that came nip from the band stand in the
plaza. He made a wry face and mut
tered in French at the bad music, but
no such trifling annoyance could long
affect his high spirits: for he had struck
a phenomenal run of luck lately, and
he rubbed his bands together and
chuckled.
Already be saw visions of the cafes
and boulevards of bis own dear Paris,
and with wealth—bis reveries were in
terrupted by a erv from his door.
“Tamale served, sab. in yor room waitin’.’’
"With that, the woolly head thrust
through the half-opened door was with
drawn and its owner dived to unknown
recesses within, while Monsieur crossed
the street briskly, eager in anticipation
of his favorite dish, for he was very
hungry.
'fe >, ,i» ft daintily, after the inborn
manner of the French gentleman, and
as daintily washed It down with a pint
of Bordeaux. Then, strange to say, he
lit a cigarette.
Taking a favorite volume from the
shelf, and one may well guess it was
"Roseeau’’ or "Voltaire,” he read in It
for an hour; then laying It aside he
donned hls helmet and walked over to
the postofflee. Maybe be would get a
letter, one from Paris, from Madeline. It
has been a long time since the last one,
but maybe—
The thriving little republic where the
wanderer had made his home was one
of the regulation types of Spanlsh-
Amerlcan colonies. A lnrge English min
ing Interest was located there, and the
taxes from.it supported the president and
his friends; as to the rest of the popula
tion—they enjoyed their pulque, played
monte and hatched revolutions. If the
president was wide awake, these only
resulted in a few hangings, a review of
the ’‘army,’’ nnd a state ball, when the
people were ready to shout, "long live
the president.” But the strongest men
grew careless and were ere long surprised
by shouting and firing 1n the court yard
beneath tlielr window; then t if they are
wise, they disappear as gracefully as
possible.
The International Mining Company,
Limited, would inquire the- title of the
new aspirant, make their payments to
him and all would again move smoothly.
It happened that just such a revolution
had lately taken place; that is, it had
been conceived the week before, the first
outbreak had occurred the Sunday fol
lowing, and now a certain Don Miguel
was floating in tho blue Pacific.
But this particular ‘‘liberator’’ was
very original and aggressive. He set
about establishing a worthy precedent,
and Monsieur for one ardently hoped It
would be followed by hls successors.
To this end he proceeded to levy
tribute on l'Anglais for a round sum and
place It In the hands of Monsigneur
l'artist who signed a formal contract
for his portrait to be delivered within
two months.
He had just finished congratulating
himself after the departure of the min
ister of finance with the thousand peso
contract in this pocket, when Mando
popped his head over the window ledge
and informed him of the arrival of a
note. His hands were not exactly steady
when he broke the seal, and no wonder,
for it was sealed in the armorial bear
ings of Ponsonby-Bodge.
Sir Henry Ponsonby-Bodge, the great
Enlgilish.ma n who sui writ ended a large
part of the silver mines in Central
America, and incidentally ran things
pretty much as he pleased in the repub
lic, was the very typo of a.'superanuated
English lord. He was race proud, domi
neering, and extremely dogmatic, and
was as fond of hls foggy, reeking London
as ever a Frenchman was of Paris. Nev
ertheless he had traveled a great deal,
was broad-minded on most subjects and
a jolly companion after his own way; his
racial characteristics being rather a
comic supplement to his disposition than
a repulsive or disagreeable part of hia
character.
Just the day before, hls lordship had
received nevs from England that hls
only son. Dewlllas, the pride of his heart,
had been knighted for gallantry by his
majdsty, the king; and accompanying
the missive was a photograph of him. a
fine looking young man in full regalia—
uniform, medals, gold braid and all—
astride a whit© charger. Indeed. It was
enough to make the old gentleman’s
breast swell with pride. Immediately
he had determined to have a portrait
Monsieur Gesticulated Excitedly.
made from it and accordingly had sent
for the artist .post haste. The interview
was most satisfactory to both parties,
nnd an hour later Monsieur started on the
return home, hugging himself at every
step and occasionally tapping his breast
pocket to be sure it bulged properly with
its burden of bank notes.
He hurried home, impatient to begin
on his task, and disregarded the steam
ing supper laid out for him on the studio
table, to dive immediately into the work.
Until late in the night he was hammer
ing on frames, ripping, stretching and
tacking amid periodic streams of French
oaths and exclamations, and for weeks
follotving he worked steadily with only
the surprisingly frequent intervals of
meal time to disturb him.
At last both works were nearing com
pletion and Monsieur did a great deal of
cleaning in his studio and hauled out
an astonishing amount of rubbish. He
bought new mattings and curtains,
touched the woodwork with varnish, and.
vainly endeavored to smear over the
paint stains on tha walls with adobe
clay. Little Mando had watched the
progress of the portrait of his great
countryman with ever increasing enthu
siasm, openly declaring the hero of San
ta. Oasandra to he the greatest and
handsomest of men. As to the other,
he made no show of concealing his con
tempt for it.
On the morning of the day that con
tract called for the delivery of the paint
ing Monsieur mounted the two great
easels on rollers finishing which lie
jammed his bat on his head and made
for tho street. Then lie stopped and
called, “Mando! mot oberie, come.”
“Yah, sail!’’ Mando darted into view.
"Bisten. The gr-r-and ceremonie today
occurs..” He gesticulated excitedly. “At
12 by the clock, be ready, mon fils.’’ He
them turned and dashed down th> steps.
“Mando know, see him befo’,” and he
. bobbed his head assuring!.! - .
Monsieur intended on starting to pop
in at the government building and ar
range a. few final details of the unveil
ing which was to occur in th- plaza
before the whole population, and hoped
to be back within the hour, but he had
becom» entangled ir. endless miles of
red tape and when he finally extricat'd
himself the great clock was striking
twelve.
As the hours passed and no "maestro”
appeared, litt S Ma ndo grew fidgety, for
he felt It as much Incumbent on him
to make the granl coup a success as did
the maestro himself. After a while the
brass band turned oiut in gorgeous uni
forms and shining instruments, and pa
raded the town, playing the national airs.
Turning the corner in full blast it caught
Mando's ear and lie was sure it was
the whole army come to the unveiliing.
“And no maestro” he wailed inwardly.
But knowing the ceremony could not
wait on any one lie rushed into the
studio to prepare for it, for was the band
not playing before his very- door and
even now the officials might be mount
ing the steps.
A bright flare of ctvor from the/ corner
caught his eye and he ran for'it. It
was a large silk flag of Great Britain,
which Monsieur liad procured for the
other event. But Mando was ignorant
of its significance and was attracted
only by Its bright coloring. He peeped
under the draperies enfolding the frames,
and, satisfying himself which was hls
beloved hero, he pushed the other one
into oblivion far back into the adjoin
ing r 0 om and slammed (he folding doors
with a vicious bang. Then he climbed
on a high stool and arranged the flag on
the frame to suit liis esthetic taste.
Just then Monsieur came in, white with
excitement, but assuring himself that ills
guests had not arrived before him. he
took time to catch his breath and be
stow a brief word of praise on Mando
for tho preparations in the studio. But
he had too much to do to give it a
second thought. When the inside d<‘ ora
tions were arranged and the glittering
decanturs filled. Monsieur went himself
to the roof and bound a second English
flag to the staff; and a few minutes later
a line of carriages swung around the cor
ner and drew up in front of the house.
The great Sir Henry mounted the steps,
preceded by a liveried servant and fol
lowed by a dozen of his friends from
the works on the mountain, all of whom
were Englishmen. He wore the uniform
of a colonel in the British army, and
looked very grand, indeed, as he strode
along, his saber clanking at his side.
Bittle Mando, in a. new poncho and high
starched collar, met them at the door
and stood at attention, when out swept
Monsieur, the flowery tongue of his
birtli bubbling from his lips
He was introduced to all the dignitaries
of the International Mining Company,
limited,’ and conducted them into the
stuffy little reception hall, where he
made a formal speech of welcome. This
was followed by a series of profusions
from his guests, and afterwards they
filed into the studio, where toasts’ to
France and England were proposed and
drunk. After these. Sir Henry insist
ed on illuminating the somewhat ab
struse subject of their national rela
tions. and ended by giving a history of
liis family since the year I and. finally
of liis son, the cause of the celebration.
At last the finale had arrived, and Mon
sieur must make his supreme effort.
With the English at liis command lie told
of the inspiring nature of the portrait,
of his Hove for the brave, of the striking
resemblance he saw between father ami
sou, etc., until the old gentleman's heart
was warmed within him. Then he ad
vanced toward tlie enveloped frame and
gingerly laid hold of the trigger string.
Keeping his eyes glued on Sir Henry’s
face for the expected burst of approba
tion, he indulged in a final flight of elo
quence and pulled the cord. ,
Sir Henry’s face flushe- and then rirew
purple; everything was siient r.s the
tomb. The strain was finally broken
when a young fellow snickered,’ and Mon
sieur turned **111 amazement to the pic
ture. it was the Hero of Santa -Casagi-
dru, as black as the aee of spades, astride
a gaily caparisoned horse in full gal
lop.
Then the storm burst. Sir Henry
marched up and struck poor, frightened
Monsieur in the face with his glove,
which, for an instant, checked the pit
eous flow of expletives he was pouring
on tiie agitated air. Some of the party
were roaring and others concealed their
mirth but poorly, but it was alt drowned
in the storm that gathered in the in
censed nobleman’s neighborhood.
The whole party began making for
the door, and Sir Henrv followed, utter
ins: threats and maledictions terrible to
bear. Monsieur bowed them out, franti
cally screaming into his deafened ears:
"My mistake, monsieur! Let mo ex
plain’ My mistake:”
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&/>e Promised Land; A Narrative After
By Lewis E. Macbrayne—First of tHe Political Series
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the Fact
AVIXd drawn his number
in the pool formed to
speculate on the daily run
of the ship—a privilege
that cost him SI, and gave
him one chance in ten—
Frederick Baddington left,
the smoking room and
strolled down the deck to
where his wife was sitting
in he,r steamer chair, smug
ly protected against the
frekh breeze blowing from
the sea iby a heavy Scotch
rug. He tossed his cigar over the rail
and sat down beside her. She -was a very
attractive woman ©yen at sea, where only
a few women retain their good looks, and
he was very fond of her.
"Fred, I have been thinking about the
steerage,” she said. "They are just what
you want.”
Baddington smiled. He knew his wife
so well that he had been expecting the
calling up of his immigration bill ever
since the ship left Rotterdam. On© rea
son for their trip abroad for the summer
had been his desire to gather original
material in support of the measure that
he ir.tendrd to introduce at the next ses
sion of congre-rs. He smiled to himself
when he thought of how few immigrants
they had met during their travels. Sure
ly there had been none at the Cecil at
London, and none in the embassy cir
cles in Pa.ris. and in the Netherlands they
had not found them to any extent, either
in the museums or in th© churches.
’’There appears to be a heavy steerago
list.” he said. There had been nothing
lower than second cabin on their trip over
from New York.
”Fi\> hundred nnd sixty.” she answer
ed; for she was of good va.nkeo descent,
and took a Just pride in figures.
“That is an omen or a coincidence,”
he said lightly. “It is just the size of my
majority in the district last fall.”
“I had forgotten that.” she replied. Th»
fact certniniy was of interest.
Tlie Hon. Frederick Baddington was a
member of congress. There are con
gressmen who have been abroad several
times. He bad been one of that larger
number who spend their summers at
American resorts, not assuming that a
knowledge of for-ign conditions at first
hand is necessary in the business of
making national laws.
Tn Washington Airs. Baddington was
not recognized as a political factor. That
was due to the skillful management of
her husband who made it appear that in
his home the {consideration of political
matters was ruled out, though there was
a perfect domestic understanding a.s to
the real part played by his wife in bis
political career.
Baddington had been well aware of this
before he entered the transitory stage of
city and state politics that had paved tlie
■way for his seat in congress. A man of
university training and of cultured tastes
he would have devoted hls energy to hls
private business, and buried his talents
in his own H’omrj’ indefinitely, had not
his wife directed them elsewhere. At
the time of which we write he was, in
many respects, a typical representative
of the best element in his district; not a
politician in tho common acceptance of
the word, but an honest, conscientious
legislator; successful in business, and,
consequently, well posted as to the trade
conditions in his part of th" country; a
gentleman ir socioty, and credited with
having fair literary attainments.
The further discussion of the subject
was Interrupted at that point by the ring
ing of tihe dinner bell, and it was not
until th" following morning, as they
started on their after-breakfast prome
nade, that it was resumed.
”1 was down in th© steerage before you
came up.” said Haddington, as they
reached the end of the promenade deck,
and could look to the steerage deck be
low.
She at once lost interest In the gray
lines of the sea, from which the fog was
just lifting. jfYVhat did you find?” she
asked.
“They are a sorry lot,” he replied.
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“The senator’s bill, even if it was defeat
ed. was not half strong enough.”
The senator's bill had aimed at a radi
cal restriction of immigration, but had
failed to pars the lust congress, partly
for political reasons and partly through
tho failure of the western members to
recognize its Importance. But in Bad-
dington’s district the sentiment had been
strongly in favor of it. His wife bad
pointed out the opportunity to win where
the senator had failed. He had been
weak in the presentation of his bill. A
■more vigorous man, with all the facts
at liis command, would compel a favor
able hearing, and success might mean as
an ultimate reward an election as the sen
ator's successor. For these reasons it
meant much to Airs. Baddington that her
husband was at last seriously interested
in the subject, and she entered vigorous
ly into the discussion as they stood where
they could look down upon the mass of
unwashed and unkempt humanity on the
lower deck.
“The doctor took me with him on his
rounds this morning,” said Baddington.
“There are at least a dozen nationalities,
and many families appear to be almost
destitute. ”
“If that could be shown, would they be
allowed to land in New Y'ork?” she asljed
suddenly.
“Certainly not,” he replied. •'Of what
are you thinking?”
“Of j'our future!”
“Thank you. And your plan?” he knew
that she had one in mind.
“When we reach New York you must
turn hack as many of these people as
possible,” she said. “The newspapers
will send men to Interview you. and you
will talk: It will pave the way for your
immigration bill.”
“Mary, you are a born politician,” he
said with spirit.
“I am your obedient wife,”, she replied;
and left him to think over what she had
suggested.
While Baddington was not a. politician
in the common sense, his power of politi
cal preception was entirely g od, and
the longer he considered his wife’s sug
gestion. the clearer he recognized its
feasibility. Now that he was prepared
to make a systematic study of the steer
age, he regretted his inability to speak
any but his own language, and in his
necessity he looked about him for an in
terpreter. He found one in tiie person of
a Chicago man, Frank Louber by name,
a genial fellow, somewhat past the prime
of life. They became good friends under
the advances made by the congressman.
Hls wife was observant, but held her
peace for a couple of days. Then she
asked her husband for a report of
progress.
"We are progressing capitally,” he told
her. It was late In the afternoon, and
their chairs were set forward, where
they could watch the setting sun; for
tlie ship was in the gulf stream, and the
sea was a mass of undulating color.
There were young people promenading
the deck, and friendly groups were look
ing over the rail; while from the steer
age below there came the sound of laugh
ter, and of wild Assyrian singing.
The lower deck swarmed like an ant
hill, for the somber dullness of tlie first
storm had been cleared away by the
sunshine, which was reflected in the
bright headdress of the women, and the
fantastic shirts and vests worn by the
men. There was a deck house well for
ward, and this was now crowded with
immigrants, seated with their backs to
tho wind, while in the midst of them, on
a great coil of rope, a young couple sat
simply, with arn*s about each other's
waists, in jihe ecstacy of a happy court
ship. Perfect health was stamped upon
their faces .Alt else about them bespoke
absolute poverty.
”If cleanliness Is next to godliness, they
are the most God-forsaken people that I
have ever seen,” the ship's doctor had
said to Baddington. The congressman re
peated the statement to his wife, and
added: “They don’t know the first thing
about sanitary laws and fully half of
them will be upon the state within a
month after they land.”
“If they land,” suggested his wife.
"yes, if they land,” he corrected, laugh
ingly.
Baddington was a systematic worker,
and on the fifth day he had made such
progress in his investigation that the
first draft of his proposed immigration
hill was written. It went even farther
©ban the senator’s had ventured, but with
the data that he would have at hand, he
hoped to be able to carry it through to a
triumphant passage.
Aided by Bouber, he was now at work
on the subject of wages paid to the im
migrants in their own country. He al
ready had found that If they were will
ing to work for double, and. in many
cases, for quadruple what they had re
ceived in their villages, the rate would
still be so iow as to prove a menace to
American workmen. If he could learn
something more definite of their antece
dents, it would aid his object greatly, it
was at this point that ho made an im
portant discovery.
It was on a Saturday morning, and
going into the steerage with Louber he
found the Roumanians—200 or more
Jews—gathered aft. as far away as pos
sible from their fellow passengers, for
worship. For the time being the place
had become a synagogue, and in the ab
sence of a rabbi one of the elders was
reading from the Scriptures. His head,
a type of the race, was covered in part
by a little round hat, and a silky beard,
streaked with gray, reached nearly to his
waist. The attitude of the congregation
was peculiarly devout, and the faces of
the men were, for the moment, lifted
above the sordid surroundings of the din
gy, littered deck to a higher spiritual
plane, in which there was both pride and
a hope of the future.
"Clannish people,” suggested Badding
ton. as they stood a little apart, watch
ing the service.
“They came from the same village,”
replied the. Chicago man.
“Indeed!” said the congressman. "How
did that happen?”
“They have suffered both from taxes
and persecution, and the -people of the
A’illage have been raising a fund for a
year, to pay the passage of these, the
most unfortunate, across the Atlantic.”
“So they land
"Not exactly,
ft the village a
1.0 a—m—m—•
as paupers?”
They go to friends who
year ago, and who have
been saving from their earnings against
tlie time of the coming of these people.
But that is not the point. Those Rou
manians have tramped across Europe to
Holland, three months by the way, foot
sore by day. and unsheltered in the open
country at night, in order to reach Rot
terdam nnd take passage upon this boat.”
“You are certain that they tramped
across Europe In order to immigrate?”
“Their chief men have told me in their
own tongue, and they do not lie,” replied
Bouber.
Baddington returned to tlie saloon deck
for reflection. The picture of those be
lieving people turned back at New York,
after their weary weeks of tramping,
came back sharply before his mind. He
could not set tlie women and the chil
dren out of his mind, and he earn© very
near statins the ease to his wife for her
judgment upon It.
But his wife had met a nobleman trav
eling Incognito, and dragged him away
for an Introduction. Tn the evening he
rejoined Bouber. tramping the deck for
liis after-dinner cigar, and after a turn
or two on the lee side of the ship he
brought up the subject of the afternoon.
“I can’t set those Roumanians out of
mv mind.” he said. “Tt was only a few
miles from Rotterdam, at Detfshnven.
that the Pilgrims first set sail for Amer
ica. AA’hat was it that influenced these
people to go there?”
Txiuber stopped short in his walk and
faced him. “Air. Baddington,” he said.
"T wonder sometimes just how well you
n.ntive Americans understand your own
country. I am a German tiy ntrtli. and
while that country isn't a criterion for
oppression. I have gained some knowledge
of the conditions of the people in other
lands. I want to tell you mat where
th" United States is best known is not
BAln and Paris, but in the Hills of Rou-
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