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28
A SEARCH FOR SANTA CLAUS.
A Three Tart Story.
By Joel Chandler Harris.
Copyright, 1901, by J. C. Harris.
PART I.
BILLY BISCUIT GOES A-FISHING.
Little Billy Tunison—Billy, the bis
cuit-eater, Billy, the "quare ereetur,"
Billy, the rambler. Billy, the lizard
hunter, Billy, the fisherman—was not
In a very good humor one morning
In the early part of November, 1564. In
fact, he had chanced upon a misad
venture that had given him a consid
erable shock and he was somewhat out
of sorts, as the saying is. He was
grumpy, dejected and inclined to be
rebellious. Fortunately, Billy's rebel
lions were not dangerous; he was noth
ing but a little scrap of a boy a little
over 3 years old—"on de rise er four,"
as his nurse, Mammy Rose, put it—
and when he rebelled against author
ity he was easily put down. A small
paddle which his mother kept conven
ient to her hand (when Mammy Rose
did not have it hid) would remedy
in short order; but a teacake
was just as effective, and Mammy Rose
thought that a teacake, properly sea
soned. was better for Billy’s health
than an undigestible paddle.
Billy's misadventure on this particu
lar morning would have been a queer
one if it had happened to any other
little chap, but those who knew of
Billy’s coinings and goings were not at
all surprised. In fact, the queerer the
BILLY BISCUIT WAS RESCUED BY A NEIGHBORLY DOCL
adventure. the better it fitted Billy,
the "quare creetur,” a name given him
by Mammy Rose. Billy had a queer
beginning, for he was born a-traveling.
as you may say, his birthplace being
a large covered wagon in which his
mother, his aunt, his uncle, his brother
Richard and his nurse were moving
from the southern part of Missouri
to their old home in Middle Georgia.
As early as 1860 the controversy that
resulted in the Civil War became too
warm for comfort in Missouri, where
there were men of mixed opinions, and
Billy’s father, foreseeing the trouble
that would ensue, sold out his property
there and moved his family into West
Tennessee. There they remained until
that section threatened to become the
theater of war, and then they moved
into North Alabama, where they could
be near the husband and father, who
was one of Forrest's scouts. But war
gradually invested North Alabama.and
the family, trudging along In Billy's
birthplace, which was drawn by two
mules, moved into Georgia, and finally
reached the old home of Mrs. Tunison
in Milledgeville, which was at that
time the capital of Georgia.
The misadventure which befell Billy,
and to which reference has been made,
was very peculiar. Mammy Rose was
sent on an errand to the grocery store,
and nothing would do but Billy must
go with her. The groceryman. while
he was not overfond of children, felt
that no damage would be done to his
trade if he paid Billy some attention.
So he led the youngster to the mack
erel barrel, and asked him if he
wouldn’t like to catch a big fish. Billy
was eager for the sport, of course, and
not the less so because he knew that
the whole proceeding was one of the
various forms of make believe. The
groceryman he'd him up to the rim of
the barrel, and told him to pull on the
iron rod which was used to lift the
mackerel from the brine, Billy followed
directions, and. sure enough, there was
a big fish on the hook. This operation
was repeated several times, much to
Billy's delight, but finally the grocery
man thought it would be well enough
to attend to the wants of his custom-
Mammy Roe among them.
While the man was tying a parcel
Billy climbed on the rim of the barrel,
and Just as he was tn the act of bulling
up a big fish, his foot slipped, he lost
his balance, and plunged into the bar
rel, which was nearly half-full of
liquid brine. The splash and splutter
that Billy made called immediate at
tention to the disaster, and. with a
smothered scream, Mammy Rose rush
ed to the rescue. Her efforts to fish
Billy from the barrel were no energetic
that she overturned It, and the brine,
running all about, made a pretty mess
In the store. Billy was not frightened,
but he suffered so keenly from the
brine, which filled ears, nose, eyes and
mouth, that his nurse was compelled
to carry him home In her arms, and
by *he time the two reached home'her
plight was as bad as Billy’s. "You got
salt 'nuff on you fer ter save five hun
der’d pounds er pork, but 'twon’t save
>011.” she snorted Indignantly. “Dey
ain't nothin' gwine ter save you dis
lime but hlck'ry lie. an’ I’m gwine ter
rriake yo' ma g!' you a full dose and
a few drnps over des ez soon ez wc alt
home.’*
"Hickory lie” Is another name for a
whipping, and Mammy Rose had it
definitely In her mind to see that Billy
was properly switched or paddled when
she reached home; but when she put
him down Inside the gate and noted
his pitiful condition, and realized how
helpless he was, being but a little bit
of a fellow, she relented. His eyes
were full of brine, and he had rubbed
them until they were red and swollen,
and. under all the circumstances, It
seemed that the child had been pun
ished sufficiently. She carried him to
the well and washed the fish brine
from hie eyes, and then she slipped
him into the kitchen, where the atmos-
Phere was warmer, and went after
aome dry clothe, for him She had tor
££ n .n h ? r °r n pllcht ln contemplat
ln* Billy a miserable condition
seem, to me that I smell marker-
V 1 Mr *- Tunlaon remarked, at Mam
my Rose went through the hallway.
"Phew! I’m sure I do.”
"Yes’in, I speck you does, an' I speck
fuddermo’ dat I'm never is ter smell
nothin' else whilst I'm in dis vale. I
use ter like dat kind er fish mighty
well, but I wouldn't eat none now. not
ef you wuz ter gi’ me a big slishe er
ham right atterwuds. Not me.”
Mammy Rose made all the haste she
could, not even stopping to ext)lain
j matters to the lady: and yet when she
I returned to the kitchen —the cook hap
-1 pened to be absent at the moment—
Billy was nowhere to be seen. There
were a good many cats on the lace,
and while she was gone some of them
got a whiff of the fish and ran to Billy
to beg for some. They were so insist
ent that the youngster thought it
would be best to retire; but they fol
lowed him, and some of the neighbor
ing cats, attracted by the odor of fish,
joined in with them, and but for the
yard dog, who was fond of Billy and
went to his rescue, there Is no telling
what would have happened.
When Mammy Rose finally found
Billy he was in the garden with the
dog trying to make him give chase to
( an imaginary lizard, while the fence
was lined with cats that had sought
refuge there. "Well!" exclaimed
Mammy Rose indignantly, ‘ef me an'
you’ ma wa'n’t angels you’d have
stripes on yo’ hide dis day—dat's what
you'd have. An' you talkin’ 'bout ol'
Sandy Claus!. You! Why ef you wuz
ter meet 'im in de road he wouldn't
look at you. Not him!”
"Me will wun an’ fine ol' Tandy
Taws an’ dit all his tandy," declared
Billy confidently.
“O, you’ll run.” snorted Mammy
Rose; “you'll run—dat's all you been
doin’ sence you wuzz big nuff fer ter
put one foot befo' de yuther—but you
won't fin' ol’ Sandy Glaus. Why, ef
he wuz ter go huntin’ fer you he
couldn't fin' you; ef you want drownd
in’ yo’se’f in a balrl er fish brine you’d
be some'rs else w-har you got no busi
ness.”
"Me'll fin’ ’im,” Billy insisted with
great solemnity. “Me will wun wight
twait to him house an' dit all him
tandy.”
"Humph!" grunted Mammy Rose, as
she proceeded to give the child a scrub
bing with soap and warm water; “he
won't be dar when you git dar. He kin
smell de fish on you a mile off. You
nee'n ter think, kaze I’m washin’ you,
dat you won't smell like fish. De scent
will last you sev'n year.”
"Me will fin' ol' Tandy Taws,” Billy
repeated, and he meant every word of
it. He was small and couldn’t talk
plain, but he was very deep, and had
a determination that would have done
credit to an older person. Mammy Rose
always declared that the reason he
could talk no plainer was because he
didn't talk enotigh to learn how. He
talked very little, but listened a great
deal, and he knew considerably more
than any one gave him credit for know
ing.
Just about that time the people were
not thinking very much about Santa
Claus and Christmas. They had more
serious matters to occupy their minds,
for there were persistent rumors to
the effect that Sherman's army was
preparing to march through Georgia.
Presently It became known for cer
tain that Gen. Sherman had swung
loose from his base of supplies, and
was treking across the state, moving
in three columns. The time soon came
when a ailway train sitood
at the station ready to car
ry Die Governor and Ills staff,
with everything portable belonging to
the state, to a place of safety. Mrs.
Tunison had been running away from
the federal army for quite three years,
and It had become such a habit that
her Instinctive desire was to place her
children in the covered wagon and
move on as she bad been moving for
so long. But she had now’here to go,
and, besides, her funds were about ex
hausted, and so she decided to fold
her hands and trust to Providence.
The event was not so terrible as the
non-combatants had anticipated. The
troops came marching In, and set up
their camps round about, and then, in
a very short while, though it seemed
a long, long time to the women and
children, they marched away again.
Nevertheless, while they remained,
chaos and confusion reigned supreme,
and though lawlessness played no out
rageous pranks, some of Its antics
had rather serious results. One day,
a number of soldiers, on short leave
from their camps, heard that the state
Insane asylum was not far away, and
so they concluded to inspect that in
stitution. They went ln such a boister
ous and playful mood that more than
one of the inmates found an oppor
tunity to escape. Among those who
slipped through the gates while the
soldiers were amusing themselves, was
a man who had lost hts reason at a
religious revival. He was vqry cun
ning. and for hours at a time, and
sometimes for days, his manner and
conversation were so sane and natural
that they would deceive anybody who
was not an expert.
His name was Roby Ransom, and
his chief delusion was that he was a
great preacher.
Roby Ransom managed to escape
when the federal soldiers entered the
gates of the asylum. As they passed
In. Roby Ransom slipped out. He
w hipped around the corner of the high
fence and slunk along by the side of
it until, he came wthin quick running
distance of a ravine filled with wll
lows, blackberry bushes and the va
rious shrubs that grow and thrive ln
damp places. He had marked the ra
vin* from his room and had whispered
to nimself that if ever he stood out
side the gate, he would make a run
for It. But now. when he stood there,
ready to rush across, his craftlnese
told him that to run would attract at
tention, so be straightened himself up.
SAVANNAH MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY. DECEMBER 8. 1901.
and sauntered across the open space,
and was soon lost to view in the un*
dergrowth.
When he had gone a little way, and
felt safe from observation, he suddenly
paused and stepped behind a bush. Not
10 feet away from him a man was lying
prone on the ground, stupefied with li
quor. Roby Ransom finally became
bold enough to take the man's faded
blue overcoat and his cap. both much
the worse for wear. He then made his
way down the ravine and soon came to
a roadway. and near at hand stood a
covered wagon, to which two sleek
mules were attached. They were fresh
ly branded, but their condition was
such as to show that they had recently
been taken from some plantation not
far away. It was also evident that the
man who was lying in a drunken stu
por in the ravine was the teamster who
had had charge of the wagon. There
was no one in sight, but Roby Ransom,
and he lost no time in climbing into
the wagon and chirruping to the
mules.
Meanwhile, Billy Tunison—Billy, the
biscuit paster, Billy the tjua.re ereetur —
was having a delightful time. While
Roby Ransom was escaping from the
asylum, a great crowd of soldiers was
engaged in looting the capitol building.
They sacked, as only American sol
diers can sack in an enemy’s country.
They made a bonfire of the records that
had not been removed and of a number
of books from the state library; and
while the bonfire burned a regimental
band played sweet music. Billy had
found an opportunity to elude the vigi
lance of Mammy Rose and he thought
the music was fine. He had heard it in
the distance, and, following the melo
dious sounds, soon came In sight of
band and bonfire. He clapped his hands
gleefully. For him the occasion was. in
the nature of a jubilee: and his hap
piness was complete when, toward the
end of the concert, a chorus of hun
dreds of voices took up the tune—a
chorus so Btrong that but for the cor
net the music of the band w ould have
been drowned.
After awhile the bonfire was out and
.he band went away. Billy followed
along the best he could, but his legs
hv r fh! r KK? nd iJ e vvaa left fai behind
by the rabble. He soon found himself
alone, and with no aim whatever, he
turned into a side street, street so
little used by vehicles that grass was
growing from walk to walk. This street
led .now here in particular, bu. ended in
a stretch of meadow land flanked by a
wood in which various kinds of trees
were growing amiably together. In
clearing the meadow land, a clump of
trees, for some reason or other, or for
no reason at all, had been left stand
ing. It was in full view from the point
where the side street vunished in the
meadow-, and when Billy paused and
looked in that direction, he saw the
clump of trees and something more He
saw two mules hitched to a wagon, a
covered wagon, and the mules were
standing very contentedly in the shade
of the trees.
BlHy regarded the wagon with con
siderable Interest. To him it looked like
home. The first thing that he could re
member. he was lying flat on his back
in the wagon in which he was born,
watching the shadow's chase one an
other across the top and sides of the
wagon cover. And so, with no definite
end in view, he toddled across the
meadow, and went to the wagon. He
walked around it and tried to peep un
der the cover, but he could see no one
It was not until he had his hand on
the wheel preparatory to climbing up
a efin a* pur P° se to °k shape
ln his mind; and then, suddenly, it oc
curred to him that If he was to have
on Christmas, he must find
Santa Claus, and here, it seemed, was
his opportunity. So he climbed on the
driver h scut and looked inside. The
teamster who had charge of the wag
,nßt have been a very careful man,
for there was a plentiful supply of
ptovender on hand. There was fodder
for the mules, bacon in a box. Hour
and meal j n sacks, crackers in a small
ke, pillows, quilts and a mattress.
Naturally, Billy took no note or these
things; he simply looked on the inside
°.a <? U . ag °',\ lo He * lf - by any chance,
old Santa Clause had taken up his
abode there preparatory to making his
rounds on Christmas eve. Finding that
there was no one in the wagon Billy
crawled over the seat and made him
self at home—that is to say, he threw
himself down on the bundle of bed
clothes, and he felt more comfortable
there than he did in the house Where
his mother lived. He thought as he
lay there looking at the top of the
wagon that he heard someone talk
ing close at hand, but he paid little
attention to It; he hud been toddling
around a good deal that day. and he
w-as tired. He closed his eyes, turned
over efti his side, drew a long breath
and immediately became oblivious to
all happenings, save those that occur
red In his childish dreams.
(To Be Continued.>
--On one occasion John Philip Sousa,
by his promptness, was the direct
means of stopping a panic which might
have had the most disastrous results.
While his band was playing before 12,-
000 people in St. Louis the electric
lights In the hall went out suddenly.
People began to move uneasily in their
seats, and some even began to make
a rush for the doors. Coolly tapping
with his baton, Sousa gave a signal,
and Immediately hie band began play
ing "Oh, dear, what can the matter
be?" A tiny ripple of laughter that
went round the audience showed that
confidence had partially been restored.
When the band began to play "Walt
TUI the Clouds Roll By” the laughter
deepened Into a roar of merriment
that only ended when the lights were
turned on again ,
ROYAL MADMEN.
MAMA AX ALAfOST INEVITABLE
KOVAL HERITAGE.
So Says Paris’ Great Nerve Special
ist. Dr. de la Vaudrtere, and Many
of the Holers of Europe Bear Ont
the Theory—Kaiser Wilhelm's Ec
centricities Are Notorioas; He Be
lieves Himself to Be Divinely In
spired. and Gives Way to Bursts
of Mantacul Fury—The Csar Is a
Melancholy Mystic, the Dupe of
Astrologists and Fortune Tellers,
nnd Victim of the Belief That He
Will Die by Assassination—Em
peror Franz Josef of Austria
Vacillates Between Melancholy
and Insane Gayelles—The Dread
ful lfoont That Hangs Over Bo
hemia's Throne—Alfonso of Spain
nnd the Xonng Queen of Holland
Both Seetn Mnrl.ed for Royal
Mania Why Madness Attacks
Royalty So Persistently.
(Copyright 1901 by Stephen Mackenna.)
Paris, Nov. 15.—At one of the few
conversational salons of the old order
that still flourish in the midst of the
rush and hurry of modern cosmopoli
tan Paris there happened to be a large
gathering of habitues on the day when
it was announced that mad King Otto
of Bavaria had shown signs of return
ing sanity. Comment on the informa
tion from various points of view was
brought to a focus by a financier noble
of the Second Empire, who remarked
lather pompously:
"Madness, in oaie form or another,
Is the special distinction and hall-mark
of aristocracies. We all have a mad
drop in our Mod, if we have any
blood worth mentioning."
There was a moment's pause, then
a serious looking young man spoke up
with the quiet authority which thor
ough knowledge ot a subject gives to
the possessor.
"Madness is, at any rate, the doom
of royalty,” he said. “It is almost in
evitable, iii fact, that royal blood
should be tainted with the beginnings
of insanity. It may, or may not, be
true that a king can do no wrong, but
It is all but certain that he can never
be entirely sane.”
The speaker was Dr. de la Vaudriere,
probably the most eminent, as he is
certainly the most fashionable special
ist In Paris on nerve diseases and
maladies of the brai . He began his
career some 20 years ago as one of the
favorite pupils of the famous Charcot
of the Salpetriere; studied later in
Italy under Lombroso; passed an un
usual sort of a year.in Ireland Inquir
ing into the curious outbreak of either
intoxication in Ulster, and the tea
drinking mania in Connaught; then re
turned to Paris to write remarkable
treatises on all these things. His repu
tation was soon made; only his com
mercial fortune lay ahead of him. He
is now laying hold of the dollars by
treating the nerve maladies, real or
imaginary, of the new millionaire
quarter around the Parc Monceau.
Dr. de la Vaudriere’s rather startling
reflections upon royalty were challeng
ed by the hostess, whereupon he took
up the question at length, and gave us
in half an hour a conversational lecture
as fascinating as it was sensational. I
shall borrow from his material to
add to personal researches on the
subject of his talk.
To begin with, the unfortunate King
Otto, the royal house of Bavaria,
seems to lie under some mystic rurse.
Among the kings and princes
of Bavaria for centuries back
the dreaded insanity Is always
seen cropping up; sometimes
skipping a generation, some
times marking down two or even three
princes in one grim year. King Otto,
for example, Is successor to his brother
Louise 11., who was deposed from the
throne as a lunatic and flung hi nisei"
into the fish pond of Berg Castle,
shrieking that if they would not let
Mm be King of the Bavarians, at least
they should not prevent him from rul
ing over the carp and gold fish. Fo
twenty-five years Otto has reigned,
nominally, from the royal and splendid
madhouse of Furstenried, sometime*
raving mad, sometimes brooding 'mad,
sometimes pathetically gay, singing,
like Ophelia, snatches of plaintive
peasant songs, sometimes wailing for
hours like a sick baby, but always
mad, stark staring mad. Even if he
should definitely regain his reason, as
his physicians seem to expect, the
period of lucidity will probably prove
to be the last sputter of reason before
it sinks in its socket forever. That, at
any rate. Is our expert’s opinion. And
he adds: "The mere ghastliness of
Otto’s return to an exalted station
after twenty-five years of. oblivious
idipey would in itself suffice to turn
his brain again. I am not thinking
merely of the appalling sense of sham-*
that would almost certainly overwhelm
him and work morbidly on his over
wrought nerves. I mean that he must
be Infinitely more susceptible than the
average type to the conditions which
tend almost fatally to create insanity
in any man placed In the extraordinary
and utterly abnormal position of a
reigning prince. Even a King of Ba
varia, administering a little kingdom
as vassal to a great Emperor, is, with
in his own borders, treated with all
the slavish subservience that waits on
the Emperor at Berlin. It takes a
strong head and a sound system to
keep Its balance amidst these condi
tions. How can a broken mind like that
of Otto withstand them? In a hundred
ways kings are less likely to enjoy
physical health and nerve tone than
the plowboy in the fields." continued
the physician. "Their blood generally
come* to them polluted and enfeeble 1
by the most unnatural marriage"
among their ancestors. Their childhood
has never had any natural unrestrain
ed gaiety In It; their education has
been forced beyond the bearing point
from an age when happier children
have not left off making mud pies. As
they grow up there comes the terro
of assassination. Almost always there
Is a heavy grief In their families
scandals, stifled crimes, heart-breaking
marriages dictated by state reasons, n
thousand circumstances of which we.
who have the good fortune not to be
kings, can form no idea. Almost in
evitably they are overstrained, the
result is almost certainly morbldnes*
of one kind or another, madness |n the
germ or In the terrible reality.”
How far Is this theory borne out bv
our knowledge of the ways of royal
persons now playing their part on thp
world stage? Emerson. In one of his
essays, makes the surprising state
ment that in 1805 every legitimate
reigning monarch In Europe was
pronouncedly Insane. Looking over th
maps to-day one gets a distinct con
viction that the Paris doctor’s more
temperate statement has much justi
fication. In most of the reigning mon
archs there are very noticeable traces
of morbillty, of madness In the germ
watting only perhaps a final touch o*
ripeness to break out In all its terrible
force.
In Berlin, and all over Europe for
that matter, there circulate, periodi
cally, detailed etorlee of outbreaks of
absolutely maniacal fury on the part
of the Kaiser. That he show* manifest
public signs ot megalomania even his
best friends admit. His outspoken
claims to direct divine Inspiration, his
wild oratorical outbursts, his preten
sions to a, perfect inborn mastery of
all the arts, and his tyrannical method
of resenting legitimate crit.cisms of his
crude productions are significant. The
other day all the world was laughing
at him over that historical picture
into which he had his own august self
painted in all the glory of his imperial
robes and imperial moustaches, though
he was a school boy when the picture
was first painted. Every one remembers
too, how, on his yacht in the Baltic,
he appeared one Sunday robed in fan
tastic, would-be-ecclesiastic robes,
read prayers on deck to his astonished
officers and men and solemnly gave
them his blessing at the end of the
service. There is even told in Paris the
story that on another day, when a
storm arose he went upon the bridge,
yelled at the wind to cease blowing and
looked absolutely disgusted and amaz
ed when he discovered that his au
thority did not reach so far. A few
days ago he is reported to have bought
on his own judgment a set of six
costly •'Moorish'’ steeds brought by an
itinerant Arab for his inspection, which
turned out after the purchase to be
ordinary ‘‘skates,” faked by the sub
tle arts of the Son of the Dessert, and
worth in the market about $2O a piece.
When the stable men pointed out the
flaw in the imperial omniscience, the
Kaiser’s fury was terrific, and the
frightened witnesses for a time medi
tated binding the foaming monarch
with vulgar stable ropes.
If Wilhelm suffers from megalomania
Nicholas of Russia, a gentler soul, has
melancholia as the eternal companion
ot his days and nights. He is a brood
ing "mystic," sadly pondering all the
time over insoluble metaphysical prob
lems, a fatalist of the dreary Oriental
type, "our pale brother of dreams,"
as the Princess of Wales is said to
have called him. He dabbles in all kinds
of occult pursuits and surrounds him
self. when dignity will permit, with
weird professors of dark art. “Wise
women" from the roaming Tartar
tribes read the stars for him; Ameri
can crystal gazers have watched their
-globes, for him in his study at Gat
china and communicated to the weary,
hopeless young man, with the sad
eyes, the wonderful versions they see
of the doings of the Astral Plane. It
is well known that the attack made
upon him in Japan, when Prince George
of Crete came so manfully to the.
rescue, was caused by Nicholas's effort
to enter disguised into a Shinto temple
and to penetrate the jealously guarded
mysteries which no white man had
ever seen. Those who saw him in
France on his late visit were all struck
by a certain uncanny look always
lurking in his face, however he might
smile in obedience to the protocol; the
expression of the developing melan
cholia-maniac. Nicholas believes that
he is doomed to be assassinated, not
because It is the natural end for a
Russian Emperor, but because astrolo
gists and crystal gazers, who knew
nothing of his rank, have more than
once predicted for him a violent death.
It is a long step from Nicholas of
Russia to the sad little King of Spain,
whose appearance gives the impres
sioo^.that he is traveling down the
same dark road of melancholy. Alfonso,
the dark browed, heavy eyed, slender
limbed little boy of fifteen, plays sadly
in a reserved stretch of the sands of
San Sebastian, his grave mother watch
ing him all the time, and his few
carefully picked playmates, chosen
from the sons of the grandees of Spiin
scarcely daring to touch him. The
utter smash of Spain in the American
war came just as the boy was begin
ning to feel that he would be so train
ed as to play it nobly. The practical
wiping out of Spain from any world
importance has saddened both deeply,
incurably. Even without that crushing
blow Alfonso could never have been
gay, he is one of the victims of educa
tion. His young life has been one long,
dreary grind at books. He has had
crammed Into his aching head five ot
six languages, and enough history and
political economy, not to mention all
the ordinary branches, to stock a col
lege professor for all his career. Pro
bably very little of Alfonso's undigest
ed learning will remain with him when,
next year, he flings away his books
and picks up the sceptre. But it looks
as if the melancho’y of his school days
would hang over him all his life.
The old Emperor of Austria belong
ing to a generation when royal person
ages were not supposed to know any
more than other people or even as
much. He is believed to possess a genial
contempt, for all books and to ignore
that special form of nervous sensibili
ty that oftep menaces the bookish tem
perament. But he has heavy troubles
of his own, and small insanities that
spring front them. Apart from some Qf
his own misdeeds there has been heavy
grief in his family, grief coming both
frbm madness and from crime. Apart
from the influence of the terrible stories
that cling around the, archdukes, and
of the sad Empress, assassinated in
the midst of her half insane dream
companionship with the old Greek gods
the Austrian Kaiser is depressed by
the knowledge that his empire is
crumbling away beneath him. He suf
fers from a mixture of melancholia
and megalomania and jumps from
unhealthy and even unseemly gaiety
to brooding care, waking sometimes
from that condition to singular forms
of petty personal tyranny. One of his
small insanities is his jealous preserv
ing of the famous wild boar shooting
of the imperial forests. His son-in
law, Prince Leopold of Bavaria, is
passionately addicted to the pursuit o*
the wild boar, and is always trying to
dodge his father-in-law’s vigilance an 1 j
have at the tusked monster of the
woods. The old Emperor sometimes
dream o’ nights that this desperate
young prince Is out by torchlight in
quest of the sacred animal. Trembling
with rage, the Kaiser will ring up his
major domo and will not be pacified
till he has been assured a score of
times that the prince is innocently
asleep in the palacq.
It would no doubt be impossible to
make out a presentable list of royal
persons as sane as sailors. The King
of England might go as an example—
though, after all, a theorist bent on
making his point at any cost might,
observe that Edward seems to have
suffered from chronic "debt mania,"
which, in an exaggerated form, may
be a sign of distorted mentality.
One of the last persons one would
thinks of accusing of any mental twist
would be the jolly young Queen of
Holland, so often described as the per
fect type of ‘’healthy mind in healthy
body.” Yet not a few people were pain
fully startled by a little incident of
her “inauguration.” As she stood at
the church altar with her mother, she
dropped her bouquet. She looked up
peallngly at her mother; the ex-yueen
Regent flushed deeply and nodded re
fusal. Then Wllhelmlna stretched out
her hand In an imperious gesture
pointed to the bouquet on the ground
and gazed steadily in her mother’s eyes
And the mother, half crying, stooped
and handed the bouquet to the Queen
The incident shocked every one that i
saw It- Was It the beginning of royal
megalomania? Stephen Austin.
ttof ft Love Match.
From Philadelphia North American.
It Is only a few months ago thgt the
foreign correspondents, writing of the
marriage of Queen Wllhelmlna to
Prince Henry of Mecklenberg-Sehwertn
prefaced their vertf'ble tales with the
words: "This Is the love story of a
queen." To-day It Is known th it ther
was little love in that affair, and that
the marriage was one of state, brought
about by Kaiser Wilhelm to increase
German prestige In the land of dikes
and windmills.
Last January It was believed that
the little Dutch Queen had made the
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truest love match since the day that
Victoria gave the flower to the man of
her choice. Now It Is known that
Ptinee Henry has very few of the at
tributes of a loving spouse, but. on the
contrary, has contracted the habit of
beating his little wife whenever his
temper or fancy dictates.
In fact, one man lies morta'ly wound
ed as the result of a duel brought on
by his Interference during a Queen
beating. The present critical con
dition of Wilhelmlna's health Is due to
the 111 treatment she has received at
the hands of her husband, and the re
port that Prince Henry has been sum
moned to Berlin to explain his conduct
may be credited as more than rumor,
for the Kaiser, having arranged the
match, feels some responsibility for the
conduct of his princely power. For It
w’ould hardly suit his plans to have
the pair divorced-
There is always something exquisite
ly sweet and tendsr about a marriage
and men and women never tire of
tales sndlng: "And they lived happl
ly ever afterward." But when royalty
Is added to romance public Interest is
stirred to the deepest. So when the
tales of s pretty girl s wilful battles
with gravs and dignified ministers
over the poverty and debts of the man
she wanted to wed leaked out, every
one was on the side of the "loving
pair," Just as everyone is amazed and
horrified by the revelations of quarrels
and brutalities that are now bruited
about. And the very debts that Queen
Wllhelmina was supposed to have
championed so valiantly are now the
ones that she refuses to pay out of her
private purse, on the reasonable plea
that they were "Improperly contract
ed." Thus even the suggestion of
fraud Is not wanting to smirch the
marriage contract.
And 90 this royal marriage, of
w'hlch so much was expected, not only
by Holland, but by the whole world,
has turned out far worse than the vast
majority of such events among the
common folks. When Queen Wllhel
mlna announced her choice an In
genious paragrapher added, quoting
from Hogg:
Love. love, love, laddie!
Love la like a dizziness,
And wi* na' let a pulr body
Gang about hla bus-l-nese.
The gentleman who quoted that
verae must either revise It or get
some facts to justify It,