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•♦•♦•*#*#*#*#*t***»*#*#*f’*Jt*#*#*t***#*»»«*»'* < »***#»»*#*»»#»*»#*#**»*»******»*»»»**»»?*#**'*t*#*#»*»»»*»»*J*f*f*#*#*t*g*****»******.».»» • •••••••••••#••*• »**0 ••'•*♦*•*♦*•*♦*•*♦*•*•”•'•*•*♦*•*•*•*♦*•*•* • 15he Odd (SL StaiincH FriendsHip * & i Oglethorpe By PAUL LINCOLN. R n'Hoi /or CMe Sunny South N April of list year t*he Georgia Society of the Co lonial Dn.mes of America, after having spent iat>out S500 in restoring- the crumbling arches of the remnant of old fort at Frederica, placed thereon a tablet 'which is the first memorial to General Ogle thorpe yet erected in the country which owes him so deep -a debt of grati tude 'and of honor. From time to time there have been plans set on foot to build an imposing monument in Savannah, and tills city yet faopes to see the realization of the dream, but in the meantime the tablet on the decaying tabby fort at his oyd home. Frederica is the only enduring evidence so far ot a people’s loyalty; while, curiously enough, the old Indian chief who was his friend anil the white man’s friend had. us long as five years ago. his fame per petuated in a monument as imperial able as it. ,s unique—a. monument of the hap piest possible conception, the work, too, of the Georgia Colonial Games, tions in summing up: AN APPROPRIATE EMBLEM. Wh it could be so fitting for the simple child of nature, what so beautifully ap propriate to the grand and rugfeed char acter ofthe faithful Tomo-Chi-Chi as this gigantic 'bowlder from his native forest! And what so lasting! The tail and stately monuments which men fashion and rear may topple and succumb even 1o the foreef of inaturq herself.- but this massive granite lies -too close to earth’s very bosom—nothing- can dislodge it, un shaken by any storms7 unravaged by time, it will testify of the noble soul it commemorates when generations have come and -gone, and records and arffeils are no more. Oglethorpe and TV mo-Chi-Chi are in separably associated in our minds, for * * Tomo-Chi-Chi Monument in Front of Chatham County Courthouse. simultaneous almost' wiitih acquaintance with the one was Introduction to the other. Arrived at Beaufort, Oglethorpe left the- immigianthere to refi-.r !. themselves while he came U£> the Savan nah river to -choose a situation for the town, and entei into a treaty with the Mico of the only nation of Indians liv ing near—tKe great Tomo-Chl-U.n. The land was beautiful, the chief of the tribe was friendly and Oglethorpe’s heart no doubt burned with deep gratitude as, re turning to Beaufort, lie arranged that the following Sunday should be celebrat ed as a day of thanksgiving for their safe arrival. "Furr fuif hogs, '-fight .turkeys,' SesiOes fowls. Englishbeef and other provisions, a hogshead of beer, a ho-gsherd of punch and a large quantity of wine,” twe are told, made up the dinner, and all "was disposed of in so regular a manner that no person was'druitk nor any disorder happened.” From their very first meeting seems to have begun the friendship between Ogle thorpe and Tomo-Chi-Chi, the old chief tain being- then nineity.-one years old. in >• the foil strength .of body r,'id rriijv-i T 1 the exercise of the noble virtues which paint him a grand and princely figure on the Illuminated page of history. The in tercourse between these two was not Alone friendly, but there appears to have existed a sincere attachment which grew cut of the earnest appreciation each of the other’s lofty character. Tomo-Chi- Chi. wttio lived four miles above the site , of the now town, dined often with Oslo* thorpe. and on the occasion of the visit to London was entertained at the gener al’s home. Oglethorpe and Tomo-Chi-Chi were accompanied on this memorable trip by several Indian chiefs and also by by Tottso-Olii-Chi's wife. Sinauki. and his nepluiw, 5'opim-ooiwi. or TKleeanhouee. VPeasley in hrs journo? spells it. TL.e b-.iy whs fils adopted son and it is he who a lauds by .the old chiefs side in the eele bitided • iportraSt painted at this time b.v Verilst. tf-inaukinvas, from what a.-tmnts remain of her. a -worthy wire. with not a little <>*' her ‘ htt&uan.VS wisdom. Oti one occasion 'she prrs« n-tod Weslej wit!, ‘jwo jars of honey aiiu one of mill:, the tiohey represent i rag, s he said. "‘Ji-.e m h- na Moil - of our people there fxanmeraw village), and the mCSfc the neeJ of our fthiltlreii." ENTERTAINED IN ENGLAND. During the four months in England tlie Indians spent a part of the time at Oglethorpe’s country residence, and re ceived attentions from high officials and royalty itself, and throughout all this time interest in the red men (who did not neglect to freshly paint their faces by way of making toilet) did not abate. The novelty, if it wore off. did not de tract from a notable hospitality, if so it might be regarded; but the death of one of the chiefs, so far from their native iorcsl s/Hind the necessity for leaving him in a strange land, so weighed upon the spirits of the others it was seen best to bring the protracted visit to a speedy close. and the party was arranged to return at once. The gifts bestowed upon the Indians were . generous, in value hundreds of dollars. But Tomo-Chi-Chi. who might have turned his influence and the ser vice which from the beginning tyas be yond estimation, to a rich competency, even gave away the presents brought ’• with film; s>na when after six y«ars, when very -nearly a hundred years old (he was 97), he came to death, it was, as one of the historians says, "in a willful poverty, being more pleased in giving to others than in pos sessing himself.” Yet there Is a simple grandeur in the picture we have of his last hours in his bare home in the rude yamaeraw village, passing away in tlie mellow haze of the soft Indian summer. As lie lay there on his blankets, the faithful Sinaulti sitting by and -fanning him with a bunch of gay feathers, life faded gently into the autumn which was like the threshold of. the winter of an nihilation upon which his people stood. Peacefully ihe oid warrior passed over into ithe other country, little reeking that even then the safety of their ground was being undermined and they driven inch by inch from the shores which had so hospitably received the strange r. Tne date of his death was October 5. 1739. and tin- following account is found in tho”Gontleman’s Magazine:” LOYAL TO THE LAST. “He was sensible to the last minutes; and when lie was persuaded his death was near In- showed the greatest magna nimity and sedateness, and exhorted his people never to forget the favors lie had received from the king when in England; but persevere in their friendship with the English. He expressed the great est tenderness for General Oglethorpe, and seemed to have no concern at dying, hut it’s being at a Lime when Ijis life might be useful against the Spaniards. He desired that iiis body might be bul led among t.iie English in the town of Savannah, since it was ho that Jievaii- ed with the Creek Indians to give the land and had assisted in founding the sown. “The corpse was brought down by wa ter. The general (Oglethorpe, attend ed by the magistrates and people of tits town, met it upon the water’s edge. The corpse was carried into Persival square. Tlie pall was supported by tna general. Colonel Stephens, Colonel Mon- taigut, Mr. Carteret, Mr. Lemon and Mr. Maxwell. It was followed by the Indians and magistrates and people of the town. There was the respect paid of firing minute guns from the battery ad the time durii g the burial and fu neral, firing with small arms by the itary who were under arms. • 'The genen-.i, La.' ordered pyramid of stone whicn Is dug In this neighbor hood to be erected over the grave, which, being in the center of the town, will be a great ornament to it, as well as testi mony of gratitude.” The single stone, the huge granite boul der in Wright square (what was for merly Percival), is placed on the spot supposed to be the burial place of Tomo- Chi-Chi, and is of design favored by the great founder himself. 5tory of the Minor Celebrity A Series of Humorous Stories by Gelett Burgess and Will Irwin EN cents," Admeh Drake muttered to himself as ho felt the first shock of the cool breeze on Kearney street. “What in Jericho can a man do with a dime, any way? It won’t even buy a decent bed; It •won’t pay the price of a drink at the Hoffman bar. Coffee John is tfuH of prunes!” He walked up the cheap side of the street, looking aimlessly at the shop windows. “I fig ure out about this way,” he thought. *‘I ain’t going to earn a million with two nickels; if I.make a raise, .it’ll be just by durn luck. So It don't matter how I be gin, nor what I do at all. J Just got to go it blind, and trust to striking a trail that'll lead to water. I’ll take up with the first Idea I get. and ride ifor it as far as it goes.” He turned into Market street at Lot- ta's Fountain and had drifted a block northerly when the brilliant letters of an electric sign across the way caught his eye; “Biograph Thoaiter. Admittance ten cents.” The hint was patent and alluring; there seemed to be no gainsay ing such a tip from Fate Over he went, never a thought as to where he would spend the night without money, and in two minutes Coffee John’s dime slid under the window of the little ticket of fice In front. “Hurry up!” said the man in the box. “The performance Is just about to begin.” As he sat down, the curtain rose and two comedians entered, to go through a dreary specialty turn of the coarsest “knockabout” description. Admeh was gloomily disappointed. He turned his head to inspect the audience more closely, hoping for some livelier prompting of his destiny, when with a trill and a one—two—three accompani ment upon the wheezy piano at the side of the stage, a little soubrette ran down, to the footlights, and with a mighty fetching seriousness, rolling her eyes to the ceiling, proclaimed: “Ladies and gentlemen, with your kind permission, 1 will now endeavor to entertain you with a few tricks of slight-of-hand.” As she went through her foolish little performance, audibly coached by some one in the wings, Admeh’s eyes followed her with eager interest. He wondered l-.ow much older she was than she look ed, and what she would be like oft the stage. She had a piquant rather than a pretty face, in form that feline trian gle depicted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. In her movements she was as graceful and as swiftly accurate as a kitten, and she had all a kitten’s endeavoring and alluring charm. Admeh made a sudden resolve. If he were to meet with an adventure that night, what could possibly be more eu- tertaining than to have for his heroine this little puss of a magician? He made a rapid study of the situation to dis cover its possibilities. It took but a few minutes for his wishes to work out a plan of action, and he was soon at the door urbanely addressing the ticket- taker. “See here.” said Admeh. “I’m a re porter on The Wave—you know the pa per, weekly illustrated—and I want an interview with Miss Morrow. I’ll give her a good write up if you’ll let me go behind and talk to her.” The Biograph Theater did not often fig ure in the dramatic columns of the city papers, and such a free advertisement was not to be refused. The doorkeeper became on the instant effusively polite and, bustling with importance, took tlie young man down a side aisle to a door and up three stairs through a passage, leading behind the wings. Admeli was shown into a tiny dressing room where scrawled plaster wails wore half covered with skirts, waists and properties of ail kinds. The little magician was in front of her make-up table, dabbling at the rouge pot. The doorkeeper introduced the visitor, then discreetly withdrew, closing the door after him. At her discovery by las audacious rep resentative of the press. Maxie was all smiles and blushes. She was still but little more than a girl, although not quite so young as she had appeared in . front of the footlights, and more naive and embarrassed than one would have expected of such a determined little ac tress. She offered Admeh her own chair, the only one In the room, but he seated himself upon a trunk and began the conversation. All his tact was necessary to put her at ease and induce her to talk. Tlie Hero of the Pago Bridge was by no means too ready with his tongue, usually, ir. the presence of women, but there was something in the touching admiration she betrayed for him as a. newspaper man that prevented him from being bashful. He thought the’ brotherly attitude to be the proper pose, under the circumstances, and he led her on, talking of the thea ter. the weather, her costume and him self. while she sat awkwardly conscious of her violet tights, which she slapped nervously with a little whip. His .care less, friendly way at last gave her con fidence, for he asked her few questions and did not seem to expect clever re plies. Before long she had thrown off all reserve and chatted freely to him. The BiogTaph Theater kept open, as a rule, as long as it could secure patron age. This night stragglers kept coming In, so that the four “artists” and the picture machine in the room below still went thrqugh their weary routine. As the conversation proceeded Maxie left at times, went through her act and return ed, finding Admeh always ready to put her upon the thread of her story. So, by bits and snatches, by repetitions and parenthesis, in an incident here and a confession there, this is about the way Admeh Drake heard, that night, in Maxie Morrow’s dressing room: “T can’t really remember when I wasn't acting, and I have no idea who my pa rents wire, or where I was born, or when, or anything. I think, though. I must be about 19 years old. though I don’t look it. and I Have decided on tlie ist of Judy for my birthday, because that’s just the middle of the year and it enn'v possibly he more than six months wrong. I used to go in child’s parts hi London when I couldn’t have been more than 4. Then the next thing I remember I was with a company of Swiss l»fil ringers, and we traveled all through the English provinces. 1 used to sing antj dance In between their turns, and I tell you it was hard work, practising all day and dancing all night, almost. We were ail rearfuly poor, for we weren't very much of an attraction. I had only one frock beside my stage costume, and that one was so patched I was ashamed to go to the pork shop, even, with it on. I was a regular little slave to old Max. who ran the company, and had to help eoo-k and wash dishes in the lodgings we took m the little towns. Well, the business fell off in England, so we took passage in a sailing ship for California, around the Horn. That voy age was the happiest time of my Ute. for I had nothing to do but practice my steps one or two hours a diay. when the sea was calm enough. There was a very nice old lady aboard who taught me how to sew and gave me some flannel to make myself some underwear, for I had never worn anything but What showed before and I didn’t even know that any one else ever did. She taught me to read, too, and tried to help me with arithmetic, but, mercy! I never could get figures into my head. Well, we got to San Francisco finally —that was about ten years ago. Bell ringing didn’t seem to take very well; it was out of date, or other people did it better, 'because you know specialty people have to keep improving their act, and play on their heads, or while they're tumbling through the air, or some nov elty, nowadays, ot it doesn’t go and it’s hard to get booked. But my act drew well, and It always saved our turn. I made up new steps all the time and in vented pretty costumes, and, of course, old Max watched me like grim death to see that I didn’t get away from him. We traveled all over the west, and all the time I was a drudge, did most of - the work and got none of the money. They used to lock me Into the nouse when they went out. and old Max’s wife would give me so much work to do- that she’ know whether I’d ben idle, a mo ment. You couldn’t think a girl in a fix like that had much chance to get mar ried. would you? Well, I am married, or rather I was. I don’t know just how I stand now. •Let me tell you about it. There was a man used to hang about the Star variety theater In Los Angeles-, who did small parts sometimes, when alley wanted a policeman in a sketc.i, or things like that, but he mostly helped with the . scene-shifters. I never had more than a few words with him, but he kind of took a fancy to me and he used to bring me candy and leave it be hind the flats where the others wouldn't see it. 1 don’t believe. now, he ever cared so very much for me. but I was silly and had never had any attention, and 1 thought he was in love with me, and I imagined 1 was with him. Ho. tried to make up to Max, but the oid mart ".von 1-ln i have anything to do with him. One day, when all my people were out and had locked me in the house, with a lot of dishes to wash, Harry—lus name was Harry Maidslow—came down the street and saw me at the kitchen window 1 raised the sash when he came into the yard, and without waiting for much talk first, for we were both afraid the old man would be coming back arid would catch us, Harry asked me if 1 didn’t want to leave the show, and if 1 wouldn’t run away with him. 1 'believe I told him I’d run away with an orangoutang if I got the chance. Re member, I was only seventeen, and 1 nau. never been alone with a man in rhy life before. In my life—if you call such slavery as that living! So he told me not to appear to notice him, but to be all ready for him and to watch out. and when I heard a certain whistle he taught me, wherever I was, to jump and run for him, and he’d do the rest. You can imagine if I wasn’t excited for the next few days! I would have jumped off the roof to get to him, if necessary, and I j .st waited from hour to hour, expecting to hear his call every minute. I didn’t hardly dare to go to sleep at night for fear I’d miss him, and I was listening everywhere for three days. It seemed impossible that he’d oe able to get me away; it was too good to be true. But I had nothing else in the world to look forward to, and I hoped and prayed for that whistle with all my might. One night at the theater, after my company had done the first part of their bell ringing, I went on for my song. I remember it was that purple silk frock 1 wore, the one with the gold fringe and red stockings with bows at the knees. Well, the orchestra had just struck up air: “Ain’t I the choese? Ain’t I the cheese? Dancing the serpentine under the trees, ' and I as just ready to catch the first note when I heard that whistle, so loud and clear I couldn't mistake It. Heav ens! I can almost hear it now. I was half frightened to death, but 1 just shut my eyes and jumped clean over the footlights and landed in the flageolet’s lap and then pelted right up the middle aisle. Harry* had a lot of his friends ready by the main entrance, and they rushed down to meet me and while half of them held the ushers and the crowd back, for every one was getting up to see what was the matter. like a panic, the rest of the boys took me by the el bows and ran me out the front door. The house was simply packed that night and when they all saw me jump they set up a yell like the place was afire. But 1 didn't hear it at all till I got out in Ihe chrridor with my skirt half torn off and my dancing clogs gone—and then the noise sounded like a lion roaring in a menagerie. Harry was all ready waiting for me, and he took me right up in his arms, as if I was a doll, ran down the stairs, put me in a carriage waiting at tin- door and we drove off. lickety-split. I’ve often thought since then that 1 took a big risk in trusting a man that L didn’t realty know at all. but Harry was square, and took me right down to a justice of the peace. We were carried just as 1 stood, with no slippers and holes in the heels of my stockings show ing. What old Max did I don’t gnow, but he must have been a picture for the audience when he saw me fly away IiKu a bird out of a cage. By the time ue round out what bad happened it was too late to do anything about It, for 1 was Mrs. Maidslow. In the corner sat Ihe mysterious stranger of the yellow hair and beard. He was singing sentimentally. Admeh. i-ractlsed in the lore of intoxication, watched him. •‘Tfie jag's growing,” he said to himself. In fact, the fumes of liquor, heat driven, were mounting stead ily. Crossing the room, so as to com mand the stranger’s right side, he saw- round his upper arm a black rubber bandage, like those used to confine varicose vein?. The problem resolved itself into a question of tearing off that bandage. The man of the yellow beard sang maudlin Orpheum songs and prattled of many things. He cursed Sun Francisco. He told of his amours. He offered to fight or wrestle wltij any one In the room. ”A chance,” thought Admeh, as «e took the challenge. But in a moment more the drunken man was running again on a love tack, with the winds of imagination blowing free. Nevertheless,, this challenge gave Admeh an idea. What he could not encompass by diplo macy he might seize upon the issue of a moment. If he could tear away the bandage in tlje first dash he would win. But let the struggle last more than a moment and others would intei-venc; then he would be thrown out and the chance would be gone. Mentally he measured bodies against the stranger; man for man he saw that, both being sober,.he himself was badly overmatched. Broader and taller by many inches, the stranger was of thick, knotty limbs. and deep chest: Admeh himself was all cowboy nerve and wire, but slight and out of condition. It was bul] against coyote. "The question is.” thought Admeh. “can I and his jag lick him and lti3 milfeole?" The stronger, singing again, lurched along the hot tiling to another room. Admeh gasped like a hooked trout as he followed through the door. It was the extra hot room, where the mercury registered 160 degrees. The stranger's bristles began to subside and his lips crept together. The amateur detective drew nearer and languid as he was with the terrific heat, gathered his force for the attemot. At that moment an at tendant With trays of ice waer slouched In on his felt shoes. Admeh slipped hack mto his chair. This entrance had a most surprising effect on him of the yellow beard. Some emotion, which Admeh took to he cither fear or anxjiety. struggled to break through the veil of his debauch; he stared with bleary hut intent eyes. Tn a moment he was lurching for the door. Glad of the relief from that overwhelm ing heat. Admeh followed. .The trail led through the anteroom, past the rubbers •and their benches, through another dou ble glass door. A rush of steam fogged his spectacles; when it cleared a little, he saw dimly through the hot vapor that ho was in a long, narrow closet, banked on one side by benches and by pipes which were vomiting clouds of steam. Groping from one side to the other, he found that they were quite alone. With no further hesitation. Admeh rushed on his man and grasped for the right arm. By the fraction of an inch he missed his hold. The stranger, with a quickness amazing for one In his condition—and what was more surprising, without a word—lashed out and caught Adnieh a blow under the chest which whirled him hack on the hot benches and fairly jerked his spectacles from his nose. The issue was on, and it was first honors for the stranger. Unsteady on his legs, but still determined. Admeh closed again., ducked under a ponderous blow and grappled round the waist. He managed to get one hand on the bandage, but in no wise could he tear it away, for the stranger held him in a bear-grip, tight about the neck. So they struggled and grunted and swayed through tne misty clouds from the hot benches to the slip pery floor and back to the benches again. Their bodies, what, with the exertion and the steam,, ran rivulets; their throats were i»spin£. Once, twice, they stag gered the room’s length. Admeh was be ginning to feel his breath and his senses CONTINUED ON LAST PAGE.