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mon, that of our literature is most valu- their position in the Federation, it will able.

be exactly the same as that of Great When far-off cousins agree to cele- Britain, Australia or any other State in brate their ancestors, they may choose the Federation; there will be no loss of between the Lawgiver, the Captain, the independence or national pride; the old Prophet, or the Poet. I think that our sentiment will remain; every American, cousins will agree to put up the Poet as every Englishman, every Australian, the representative of all the ancestors. every Africander will be free to conLet, therefore, the 23rd day of April be sider himself, if he pleases, the finest the Day of Celebration of the Anglo- specimen of humanity in the world, Saxon race, and let England's greatest Only to the sentiment of patriotism we poet give his name to that imperial shall add the sentiment of race. And holiday.

to the Day of Independence the AmerWhy, it may be asked, cannot the ican will add another Day, when he United States come in? Are they not shall celebrate the glories and the Anglo-Saxon as well? They are cer- achievements of the people from whom tainly Anglo-Saxon as much

he came, whose liberties and history and selves. We have absorbed Fleming, literature he inherits. There will be Frenchman, Italian, German, Pole and one thing of which he will be more Dutch, and we remain Anglo-Saxon. proud than of achieving his indepenThe States have received from every dence—and that will be symbolized by nationality tens of thousands; they are the Day of Celebration, the rejoicings. all absorbed, or in process of absorption; on the 23rd of April. they are become or are becoming Anglo

WALTER BESANT. Saxon. Will, then, America join in such a celebration? I am not prepared to ouer an opinion. Perhaps, if it was thoroughly realized that there was no secret intention on the part of Great

From Temple Bar: Bricain to exalt herself above other

IN THE GATEWAY. nations of the race, the United States would also join us in rejoicing over the

"But what is his name?" past and present of the race which made “And that I can't tell you either, sirthem what they are. They will come

not his real name, at least. There's in; they must come in; and then the final plenty of nicknames for him, of federation will take place; then shall be course.” witnessed the reconciliation of all who "Has he been here long?” speak our common tongue; and the "Since I was changed to here, and future of the race with such a federa- that's quite enough for me. Lads are tion may be-must be-greater and more always plaguin' him and singin,' 'Git glorious than poet has sung or dreamer yer 'air cut,' so I'm obliged to go over has dreamed, for the widening of knowl- and stop it." edge and the advancement of hu- I asked these questions of the manity.

bearded policeman, to whom the duty I think-or hope--that the final federa. is assigned to stand still by the hour totion of the whole of our race is a con- gether and look eastward down wicked summation that is not only ardently to Piccadilly, as though momentarily exbe desired, but is also certain to occur pecting an important signal. He if we take steps of ordinary prudence. swered me in a preoccupied way, alThe Treaty of Arbitration, when we get most brusquely, without taking his eyes it, will go far to soften the tone of the off the long street and its foreshortened American papers; it will disarm hos- crowd of cabs and humanity. tility; it will in time perhaps change the I turned and looked at the object of spirit of the schoolbooks. As for their my curiosity, and pondered. Presently flag, it will remain their own; as for the policeman said,


"He's what they call not quite hard by threw him a penny; without deflectbaked, or we should have moved him ing his gaze to see where it went, he long ago. That's it, depend on it!" raised his hand to his forehead and sa

Still I was dissatisfied. The man was luted. It was an old-fashioued military so different from the other three hun- salute, such as one of the great Freddred and fifty-seven street artists whom erick's guards would have made, touchthe Deserving Mendicants' Aid Society ing his forehead with the edge, not the has catalogued. He had got all his legs back of his hand. I pondered all the and arms left, and he didn't sell harder over this. It was a little thing, matches, and he hadn't written a slort but it impressed me deeply—so deeply history of himself and his diseases be- that I made up my mind at all costs to side his pictures. There was only one know more about him. After thinking picture too-of an archway, with a still a little longer I moved close up to glimpse of green grass and a fountain the spot where he lay, and ventured the showing through it. An hour's drizzle remark,had not improved the clearness of the "Rather hard lying on the pavement, detail, and after I had made so much isn't it?" out I looked up at the artist himself. He turned and fixed his blue eyes on He wore what must once have been a me without answering. suit of dress clothes; the trousers had I repeated my question. been trimmed off short at the knee, and Then he replied,tattered stockings took their place be- "It is very hard; but I lie here all the low that point. His shoes had been same." boots once, but the uppers were shorn This was obviously true, and I felt away. His waistcoat did not belong to disappointed at getting such a recepthe dress suit; it was two sizes larger tion. at least, and was crossed over itself to “It can't be very good for you," ! take up the extra six inches, being thus blundered out. forced to button in double-breasted “It is not very good for me," he said, fashion; visible here and there were in a strange refined Ollendorffian style. the relics of a pattern worked into it, "but I lie here and tell the story of of a white fleur-de-lys. But his hat was my picture to myself, for nobody lismore remarkable still. What its orig- tens.” inal shape had been Heaven knows; Just then came along a middle-sized when I saw it, it had been cut and boy carrying an empty basket. Not pulled and beaten into a grotesque re- wishing to be favored with au audience semblance of a lacquey's three-cornered while I questioned the man, I affected hat. Yet there was an almost jaunty interest in an opposite direction. The air al ut it. He had stuck it to the boy dropped hi basket best possible advantage on his won- proached, and kicked it deftly over the derful head of yellow flowing hair- picture, saying as he did so,blackened a good deal by exposure to "Well, old 'Where did yer git that London soot, but still yellow. His ‘at,' I'm comin' back again to eat yer." limbs were straight and well propor- I sprang on that boy unfairly. Ile retioned, and his features clear and deli- garded the poor street artist as lawful cate, though a stubbly beard of four prey, and long usage combined with days' growth took off a little from their bad example had destroyed any origibeauty no doubt. He lay gracefully on nal feelings of compunction-but it was his side, not huddled up like the other too late; I had hurt him very much, and street artists—with his head supported he was crying bitterly. Happily no one on his hand, and heeded not the pass- was at hand, and so the matter passed ing crowd. His thoughts seemed to be without collecting a crowd. The boy very far away from London and its picked up his basket and went bis way dirt and its clamor.

whimpering; the policeman did not While I was looking at him a passer- take his eyes off Piccadilly, and my


he ap

friend in the three-cornered hat moved board and goes out into the gateway. not a muscle.

There is a flat stone by the wall, and After a decent pause I said,

he moves it away-then he brings out "Well, what is the picture?"

ten heavy bags and puts them in a deep "The story is of the picture,” he re- hole. He drops the stone again, and plied.

covers it with earth." This answer seemed like an attempt He stopped, just as he had begun, at repartee, flavored with French exer- like a machine. cises, and I began to think that the I waited for several minutes in sipoliceman's remark about the poor lence, trying to fashion a meaning for man's mental state was true; still I per- this strange story. sisted.

“When did all this happen?" I asked “Ah, yes," I said, "the story is of the at length. picture. I want to hear about it-the He shook his head and smiled faintly. picture—the story of it, you know." "You don't remember, I suppose,” I

“The story that I tell to myself. It is said. “It's like a dream, perbaps, isn't because nobody else will listen. To- it?" day it is the beginning."

Again he made a gesture of dissent. “Go on, please," said I.

“It's real then-do you mean that?” “I go to and fro under that gate- He nodded. way many times, and the day is a hot “Have you got no more to say about day. The little ledge there on the wall it?" I asked. is the height of my shoulder.

I ran

“No more to-day. The picture will with my hand on it, and make a hum- be changed to-morrow. I will say more ming noise to imitate the diligence. then." And with this he took a rag The women carry tall baskets past my from behind him, and swept the picplace of amusement and curtsey to me. ture away. I grimace at them in reply. Then I I held out a shilling, but he looked up run across to the other side where at me and said, there is no ledge, and lie down on my "Wait for the end-you will give me back, and look at the roof, and kick up more then." my heels, because I am in idleness." The best bred of the angels could not

"But when do you do this?" I in- have said it with such gentle dignity of quired.

manner. I went back to the police“Men pass me," he continued, with

and asked him where the man out noticing the interruption, "and lived. some of them scowl, which makes me "Somewhere back of the Harmy and cease kicking, and think what they Navy, sir-one of them little streets

But I am not afraid. I forget leading off Vincent Square.” their words very soon. There are peo- "Any relations?" ple coming down to the fountain to “ 'No relations, no friends, no effects,' drink the water, some on crutches. I that would be our report of him." jump up and run towards them, shout- This seemed to shut the door altoing that the gutter is good enough for gether, for I felt that it was hopeless them. All this is ignorance. They pre- to expect to learn the truth about this tend not to hear. The water from the man from himself, even if the picture fountain is warm, and salt to taste. A represented reality, and his record was man in a faded livery stands by and true. I went home in great disgust and takes money from the people who drink thought it over. If the it."

thirty now, and ten years old when he There was another pause.

ran about under the gateway, that “It is evening," he went on at last, would make it twenty years ago, but "and I follow my father about the somehow I treasured the conviction house on tiptoe; he does not see or hear that such a calculation was utterly me. He takes a trowel from

cup- false.

I found myself saying, “Ages









further back than that; hang it all, quickly to the window and throws it look at his clothes!" This was again open. See, the window over the gatemost unreasonable, the clothes

way is open. She does it that my certainly not more than twenty years father's spirit may have immediate old, probably not as much. And the passage to God. There is sudden man looked less than thirty really. clamor outside of soldiers; three of Thus buffeted between reason and un- them come up to the door of the chamaccountable belief, I became restless, ber, and the priest opens it, holding up and the evening went badly. I alter- his hand. My father's head falls back, nately swore never to go near Piccathe nurse closes his eyes.

At dilly again, and started up with the comes a rumbling noise, all the house intention of immediately drawing all shakes; I look out and see that the the little streets at the back of the fountain is running no longer.” Stores. During tue night I dreamed He stopped and took a deep breath as that I demonstrated with chalks on the if the telling of the tale was a terrible pavement to the whole A. division, how strain. Then he leant over the picture, to fix the man's age by algebra! he so that it was hidden from

me, and however wiped out my figures with his took his chalks from his pocket. When rag, before the sum was done, and all he raised himself, I saw that the soldier the A, division laughed at us.

in the gateway had disappeared, while

in the foreground a file of red-capped The wind of March blew dry and men were standing guard over several shril as I walked down Kensington indistinct heaps. The water lately Gore next morning on my way to the gushing from the fountain was now yellow-haired street artist. The dust erased and close to it he had drawn a of the town, which is grittier and more fire on which people were throwing penetrating than country dust, blew in things. At the base of the tower was a great eddlies everywhere. People with gaping crack in the masonry. puckered faces, heads lowered, and He continued: “The soldiers take the their hands on their hat-brims,

old swords and pictures and the passing, heedless of the lying armor, and throw them upon there on the pavement with his picture my picture to myself, for nobidy lisand his half-told story, and I felt con- ter are taken away in a coach. I scious of certain superiority of am guarded by a soldier. I ask him knowledge, as I threaded

my way wliy all this is being done, and he looks across to him, and noticed a sign of rec- at me and laughs. The night falls soon ognition on his wasted countenance. afterwards, and the soldiers bring out The picture was ready. It seemed very wine. My guard drinks and falls much the same as on the day previous, asleep. I crawl away to the gateway except that it was drawn on a slightly and sit by the wide crack in the tower. smaller scale, and that above the arch- I can hear the stones grinding together. way was a row of casement windows, Presently the light from the fire the as if the former led under a suite of soldiers have made falls on me. I am living rooms. I noticed too that at the afraid of being seen, and crawl into the further end of it stood a man with rifle crack. It leads downwards; as I go I and bayonet, in a red cap. While I feel that it is slowly closing up. I was gathering these details, he began press on into a dark place, dry and again as follows:

warm. There is a stream of warm air "We are assembled in a bed-chamber, coming upwards which makes with a low roof and windows on both sleepy. Soon it overcomes altosides. There are five of us—and my gether, and I sink down. After that, father, he is dying. The priest alone there is a great space of silent years." speaks. He bends over him, and whis- He was speaking in a kind of reverie pers words which I cannot hear. Then now, forgetful of the presence of a liswe kneel down. The old nurse moves tener.







"A very very long time,” I said, with "I feel a great interest in this place. a tremble in my voice.

certainly." He repeated his words, “a great space “ 'Tis a pity, then, you were not here of silent years."

thirty years ago, when first I knew it. I felt awe-struck. This seemed to be There was living then an old woman a corroboration of my unaccountable who declared herself an eye-witness of impression gained the day before. Yet the deeds of the revolutionaries here.” the interpretation of it was as far off "It was ransacked then, eh?” as ever.

"Something worse than that, mon"Can't you remember one word, one sieur. She used to tell how the baron name to help me?" I cried.

lay sick to death when the troops were The artist looked up, with the vista sent to take their prisoner. He died, in of a hundred years gleaming in his fact, just as they entered his house, and eyes.

finding no money, as they had expected, "You say help,” he said slowly—“help they burned in anger all they could lay from a name. I can remember one." hands on. His lady suffered death at

He leant once more over his picture, Paris like the rest." and wrote something below it. When "The property confiscated, I he moved I read in straggling charac- suppose?” ters the word “Fleuraye.” I stooped “Yes, yes; and like others, it down and reverently laid all the money held at the Restoration to have reverted I had got on that word “Fleuraye." to the State, because no heir could be Something told me that it was the key discovered.” of the whole riddle, if I could use it "It must be a mortification to you aright. He smiled his old-world smile that so beautiful a spot should be again, and said,

wasted-ownerless. I mean that it "That is all the story.”

could not but benefit the neighborhood I left him, and walked slowly home. if it found a purchaser."

The curé shrugged his shoulders, and “The château itself is a fine specimen sighed. of old Gascon domestic architecture. "The glory has departed,” he said, Alas, alas, that it should be uninher- “from here and all around. The disited and falling to ruin!”

trict has never recovered its ancient The grizzled curé spoke these words, prosperity.” while I riveted my eyes on that

"How so?” erable pile, the Château Thericourt. I “Ah, my friend, Serenne was once rehad come upon it almost unexpectedly, nowned for its water-cure. There is a and at the same moment had happily legend, by the way, attaching to this lighted upon the only inhabitant who place regarding that water-cure.” was likely to be able to tell me its his- “Please let me hear it." tory, namely, the parish priest.

"It is merely this. The springs were "It has a history, no doubt," I said, the exclusive property of the Fleurayes, striving to conceal my excitement. and from some cause they dried up. “Ah, monsieur, the poor old place has The legend, of course, runs

that they doubtless a thrilling tale to tell, if its ceased when they were wrested from stones could speak. The story is little their rightful owner. We live here, better than tradition, so far as it goes.” however, in a region mildly volcanic,

"There is often something in tradi- which would account for their failure. tion," I murmured.

Our wells show this by their strange "Perhaps-perhaps! Have you a par- behavior not unfrequently." ticular interest in it, though ?" The old "Was there no heir, at the time of the man looked at me with an inquiring confiscation?" smile.

"A child, I believe, who

made I collected myself with a great effort, away with. Ah, no," the curé sighed and said steadily,

deeply, “there is no one left! I often



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