The times dispatch. [volume], October 25, 1914, Image 45

About The times dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1903-1914

Image provided by: Library of Virginia; Richmond, VA

                
How a Famous Chef
Serves Alligator Pears
HE alligator pear grows on a
fine, spreading evergreen
^ tree with leaves large and
oval in shape. While native of
northern South America, it is now
?widely grown in the West Indies
and Florida.
The alligator pear is also known
as "midshipman's butter" and is
one of the best of all tropical fruits,
being easily digested, wholesome and
nourishing.
An analysis shows it to contain
twenty per cent fat, and in a form
which can be taken by the most
delicate persons, even when they
cannot partake of fat from an ani
mal Bource.
The alligator pear requires very
few trials before one becomes ex
tremely fond of It. In addition to
being palatable, it is a great aid in
building up both muscular and ner
vous systems. ,
There are various manners in
which the alligator pear may be
YOU MIGHT TRY?
To Prevent Fading.
TO prevent the fading of ginghams, calicos and lawns, dissolve Ave cents
worth of sugar of lead in a pailful of lukewarm water. Put the goods
into it and let stand for three or four hours. Wring out, dry and press in
the UBUal way. This process also shrinks the goods.
To Remove Iodine Stains.
r remove a tincture of iodine stainB from your 6kin or clothing strong
ammonia water is excellent.
To Clean Black Satin.
PEEL and slice two large raw potatoes, put into a pint of water with a
pinch of salt and let stand all night. Next morning sponge the satin
on the right side with this mixture and wipe lightly with a cloth. Then
Iron on the wrong side.
A Southern Cook's Advice.
WTHEN frying griddle cakes rub the griddle with a small bag of salt. The
Vf cakes will be just as brown ana the room not filled with disagreeable
odors.
To Clean Windows.
TO clean windows satisfactorily a little turpentine dissolved in warm
water is the best thing to use.
For Tender Feet.
IP the feet are tender bathe them often in strong alum and boric acid.
It should bo applied when the flesh is dry and allowed to dry on
the feet.
served, but it is generally used as
a salad, it is ripe or ready for uuo
when it will yield readily to a
slight pressure of the fingers.
The following recipes for alli
gator pears are ones used by the
chef of one of New York's most
famous hotels:
ASTORIA-SALAD?Hearts of Ro
maine, covered' with sliced orange,
pineapple, grape fruit, and alligator
pear cut into small squares and
served with French dressing.
ALEXANDER SALAD?Take a
heart of lettuce, hollow it, and fill
hollow space with small spoonfuls
of alligator pear and nut meat, and
serve with French dressing.
MISS SIMPLICITY SALAD ?
After removing rind and seed, cut
into small squares and serve on a
lettuce leaf, with nut meat and a
French dressing.
A LA CANTALOUPE ?Another
and probably the most popular man
ner of serving the fruit is to halve
It, and after removing seed and lin
ing, serve half to each person, with
a light sprinkling of salt, or salt,
pepper, vinegar and olive oil.. It
may also be served in halves, as
above, .substituting lime or lemon
juice for vinegar; or It Is extremely
palatable if halved, served with pre
pared salad dressing, (after the lat
ter has been thinned with vinegar
and olive oil), when It may be eaten
In the same manner as a canta
loupe.
The alligator pear is deserving
of even greater popularity, owing to
its nourishing and digestible qual
ities.
What to Feed Your Baby
By Dr. H. K. L. SHAW,
Director Division of Child Hygiene of the State
Health Department of New York.
IF your baby must be of the class called
"bottle babies," get -the best and cleanest
milk you can afford. Mix Ave ounces of
the milk with ten ounces of pure water and add
two even teaspoonfuls of sugar and % ounce
of lime water. This will suffice for one day
and should be given at seven feedings, when
the child has reached the ago of one week.
Prior to that the proportions for a day's ra
tions for baby should be two ounces of milk
diluted with eight ounces of water, to which
are added one tablespoonful of lime water and
two even teaspoonfuls of sugar. This is enough
for seven feedings.
Remember in your allotment that one ounce
is about two level tablespoonfuls. Prepare the
milk every day from a full, shaken bottle.
Place in a well scalded nursing bottle. The
milk should be pasteurized. The stopper
should be of clean cottin batting.
From the age of one week the infant should
have an increase in milk of one-half ounce every
four days and the water should be increased
by one-half ounce every eight dayB.
At three months the average child requires
eighteen ounces of milk daily, which should be
diluted with sixteen ounces of water. To this
should be added four even tablespoonfuls of
sugar and one or two ounces of lime water. This
should be given in six feedings.
In mixing the milk and water after the third
month, the milk should be increased by one
half ounce every six days, and the water should
be reduced by one-half ounce about every two
weeks.
At six months the average child daily es
quires twenty-four ounces of milk, which should
be diluted with twelve ounces of water. To
this should be added one or two ounces of lime
water and three even tablespoonfuls of sugar. The
amount of milk should now be increased by
one-half ounce every week.
The milk should be Increased only if the
child is hungry and Is digestiug his food well.
It should not be increased unless be is hun
gry or if he is suffering from indigestion, even
though he seems hungry.
At nine months the average child requires
thirty ounces of milk daily, which should be
diluted with eight ounces of water. To this
should be added two even tablespoonfuls of
sugar and 0110 or two ounces of lime water. This
should be given in flvo fee-lings. Tho sugar
added may be milk sugar, or if this cannot
be obtained, cane (granulated sugar) or
maltose (malt sugar).
At first plain water should be used to dilute
tho milk. After three months a weak barley
water may be used in place of the plain water.
It is made by adding one-half level table
spoonful of barley flour to sixteen ounces of
water and cooking for twenty minutes.
At six months the barley flotlr may be in
creased to one and one-half even tablespoon
fuls, cooked in thirteen ounces of water.
Give the baby plenty of boiled "water be
tween feedings. A very large baby may re
quire a little more ^nilk and a small or deli
cate baby will require less than the milk al
lowed in these directions.
After age of one year is reached the chll?
should be made to drink its milk from a cup or
glass. From tliL% time on to eighteen months
there should be five meals dally, as follows:
First meal, 6 a. m.?Milk (pasteurized or
scalded), eight to ten ounces, and thick bar
ley water or-Oatmeal Jelly, two ounces. The
juice of one-half and later of a whole orange
may bo given at 9 a. m.
Second meal, 10 a. m.?Milk with stale bread
or zwieback, or well-cooked cereal with milk.
Third meal, 2 p. m.?Chicken, beef or mutton
broth with boiled rice or stale bread broken
in, or scraped beef with bread crumbs, or drink
of warm milk if desired, and zwieback or Btale
bread.
Fourth meal, 6 p. m.?Milk with stale bread or
zwieback, well cooked cereal.
Fifth imeal, 10 p. m.?Milk, eight to teu
ounces, and thick barley water or oatmeal jelly,
two ounces.
From the age of eighteen months on to two
years the child's dally rations should be ar
ranged like tlMs:
Breakfast, 7:30 a. m.?Juice of whole sweet
orange or pulp of four to five stewed prunes.
Cereal cooked at least three hours, cornmeal,
oatmeal, pettijohn, rice, cracked wheat, wheat
ena, sweetened (one-half to one teaspoonful of
sugar) or salted, with milk. Glass of milk,
warmed, with very stale and preferably dry
bread.
Baby's -Daily Rations
When 1 Week Old When 3 Months Olaj
What Baby Should Eat Daily
When 6 Months Old When 9 Months Old
Socond meal, 11 a. m*?Glass of warmed milk
with very stale bread or zwieback or one or
two graham crackers.
Dinner, 2 p. m.?Choice of one cup of broth
or soup made of beef, chicken or mutton and
thickened with farina, peas, or rice; or beef
juice, two ounces, or dish gravy on stale bread;
or soft boiled or poached egg, boiled rice cooked
four hours, or one-half baked potato and glass
of warmed milk.
Dessert?Appie sstuce, blanc-manage, corn
starch, custard, junket, stewed prunes or plain
rice pudding.
'?* Supper, 6:30 p. m.?Well cooked cereal witk
milk. Glass of warmed milk. Stale bread and
milk. Give at least four glasses of milk a day
No food between meals. Water several timea
a day. ,
v; <
A Complete Short Story
The Bouquet of
& Heather &
APTAIN CHAUTECL.AIR was a
smart and dashing officer, who
combined In his manners tho
beat qualities of tlie oll'ieer and the
man of the world. Ho was not yet
forty-five, and had the reputation of
being ono of the gayest officers in
the army, a brilliant conversational
ist, an accomplished singer and a
splendid after dinner speaker, alto
gether a perfect society man.
Nobody knew that under the mask
which the world knew ho was a
broken-hearted man, to whom life had
no value whatever. When very young
death had rohhed him oi his beautiful
wife, whom/rfc loved passionately.
Kllnne do Solange was not rich, but
she possessed what Is worth Infinitely
moro than money, a heart or gold,
and sho was as beautitul as she was'
good.
When sho left ho church on her
wedding day on the arm of her hand
some husband, everybody who saw
them agreed that they had never seen
a happier or better-looking young
couple. Nono of them had any Idea
that death and sorrow were lurking
near them.
Though IOllano with her pale com
plexion and fair hair looked as- frail
as a lily, she was apparently strong
and healthy.
They had loved each other long he
fire the day when the church save
them Its blessing?ever since she was
a girl In short dresses and he an an
gular, awkward boy. And when they
grew a little older and learned to
know ivhai love really meant, they
had built many beautiful castles in
the air, which they both felt sure
would in time be realized.
War, of course, might Beparato them,
but who hc-lieved in the possibility of
war any longer? And if the war were
to come, she would follow her hus
band into the field as a nurse, looking
after the wounded.
It was a brave and courageous wo
man Captain Chauteclalr had chosen
for his bride, and surely they wero
to be happy together.
And happy they were, as happy as
It is given only to few people to bo
In this world, until the day when
Death mercilessly struck Eliano
down in tho flower of young wife
hood.
Chauteclalr went almost Insane with
grief, but when his tears ceased flow
ing ho hid his sacred memories at the
very bottom of his soul. lie loved
solltudo, but did not seek It, because
he understood its danger.
Apparently he continued his gay
existence as an aripy officer, but ho
was firmly determined to court death,
should ever bo ablo to do so with
honor.
Then enme the war of 1870.
It Is not l-oeessary to recall the
numerles of that dreadful year, when
Trance was crushed. Whoever loves
his country knows what it means to
nee it struggling in the throes of
death.
When the bugles sounded Captain
Chauteclalr was among tho first to
depart for the front and no sincerely
hoped never lo return, but his wish
was not to be fulfilled.
]*n vain did he rush Into tho mad
dest fight at Gravelottc. IIo was
struck by three bullets, but nono of
bis wounds was mortal. He was
,\cked up by an ambulauco and when
h~ recovered ho found himselt a prls
onr of war at Heidelberg', where a
poor ituaslan family filled with en
thusiasm for France asked the epeclal
favor of offering him a home.
With the same firmness of mind
they had enabled him :o live through
the saddest days of his life, ho now
bore his physical suffering without a
groan, and no sooner had his wounds
healed than he surprised his host and
his family by his constant .radiant
humor. '
One day, however, the burden of
memories nearly overwelmed him and
he returned to his room to hide liia
sorrow, which the world must never
know.
It was the anniversary of the
death of his wife.
He was standing at the window
looking Into the foreign landscape,
where everything was covered with
a layer of snow in spite of tho
Spring, and he felt his eyes fill with
tears at the thought of the loss of
his wife, and the misfortunes of his
beloved France.
Before his mind's eye he saw this
white silent shroud enveloping tho
heart of France, and stopping 'ts
very heartbeats, but his greatest sor
row was that his beloved wife to-day
did not get the, bouquet of heather
he had placed on her grave on the
anniversary throughout the ten years
that had passed since she died.
This bouquet of heather was liko a
breath of his youth, full of sentiment
and poetry.
The first time he had met EUano
she was carrying a bouquet of heath
er in her hand, and when they parted
she had given him a sprig of the pink
flowers as a symbol of a love born at
first sight. This sprig of heather had
never left him since, on tho battle
field or here in his prison days.
Tho idea that Eliano was not. lo
get her heather this year was more
than his strong htart could stand, and
he burst out sobbing like a child and
buried his face in his hands.
I'ooi Chauteclalr!
Tho sorrow lie felt was so violent
that for a while it robbed him of his
senses and ills mind began to wander.
Eliane aproachcd him slowly, with
noiseless step, silent as a shadow, her
face was as he had seen it last, alio
was smiling and there was an expres
sion of quiot happiness in her won
derful blue eyes, whilo her golden
hair enveloped her whole figure like
a radiant mantle.
She came so close to him that at
last he felt her warm breath In his
face, and suddenly she raised a veil
she was wearing and handed him a
bouquet of heather.
The vision was so strong, so life
like that the captain awoko from his
dream with a ory.
On the tablo in front of him lay a
bouquet of heather, tho pinlc flowers
covered with snow, and in tho door
way stood Eve, tho youngest daugn
ter of the family, a little girl of six,
embarrassed and sad. She had want
ed to surprise him with the flowers
and ho had scared her so dreadfully.
Tho captain stood at tho window
with the bouquet of hoatlicr in liii
hand, and a feeling came to him that
thoso we have lost^jon the anniver
sary of tlioir dcatlwrome back with
flowers to thoso who are prevented
from placing flowers on their grave.
Sacrifice Rewarded
A CONVINCING NARRATIVE
SHOWING THE DEPTHS
OF A WOMAN'S LOVE.
NAN turned away from the couch
where they had placed /the
injured man. She heard what
the doctor wa< saying as in a dream.
"Sight gone, No hope, I fear. Hero,
nurse" There followed a number
of instructions as the terrible injuries
Tom Lang had sustained \v*re at
tended to.
There was hardly a slsn of life.
Nan Morris had followed on from
tlie mill where she worked. She was
thinking that Noll might have come,
for Nell and Torn were engaged.
Poor Tom! Perhaps this accident
would open her sister's. eyes to the
truth.
She went a step nearer to the bed,
but the nurse motioned her away.
"There is nothing you can do." said
the woman. The doctor did not seem
to know the girl was there at all.
"Nell does not cara," she murmured.
Nan made her way to the door.
"And he?he never thought of me."
It was evening then. No good re
turning to the mill. Nan made h'.r
way home, to find Nell sitting at Tap
per with their mother.
"Nol!! Haven't you heard?"
"Yes. Poor Tom!"
There was a hxird rincr in her voice.
Nan dropped wearily into a chair
and peered into the fire.
"He'll get all right again," said Nell.
Nan darted her sister a look.
"She never loved him," she thought
sadly.
With *'ieir mother it was always
Nell?Nell, the spoiled one, who re
mained at home.
Nan worked She tried not to think,
but at tiiat moment she caught sight
of Nell's dainty white hand, on which
a ring sparkled?Tom's gift.
"I am going to bed, mother," said
Nell. She said it with a drawl,*as she
stretched her arms wearily. "I hope
there will be better news of Tom."
"Nell is feeling it very much," said
Mrs. Morris, when Nan and she were
alone.
NAX CANNOT SLEEP.
Nan could not sleep. Tom lying
there?dead perhaps.
He had been kind to Iter in the old
days, before he had seen Nell when
she cainc back from her aunt's In
town.
He would be blind!
Nan rpso hastily, and slipped on
some clothos.
Bang! Bang! Bang! at the door.
The gi-rl was down tlio flight of
stairs. As she dragged open the
door she kiw the hospital nurse.
"Miss Morris?"
"Yes," panted Nell.
"That poor fellow, Tom Lang?he's
dying?ho is asking for you?for Nell
?his sweetheart. Quick!
Asking for Nell!
Nan choked back a sob.
"I will fetch her.''
She drew back; the nurse entered
the passage. Nan was at her sister's
room door. Mrs. Morris called to her,
and the girl heard her mother enter
ing the apartment behind tier.
Nell's bed wus empty?had not been
lain in.
A Resourceful Servant.
"WhatV" cried a mistress to her
new maid, whom she hart found sit
ting down liv the library with her
glands folded. "Hero yon arc sitting
down! Why, yon wcro sent In horo
to dust the room!"
"Yes, ma'am," was the girl's' reply,
"but I have lost the duster, and so I
nni sitting on each of tho chairs In
turn'/'
Nan was at the tabic. A letter, a
lumpy letter, was sticking' in the
cheap mirror. It was addressed to
her. She tore it open.
"Dear Nan?I cannot marry Tom.
I am leaving his ring, and am oft
with Jim Brintozi, whom I love.?
Nell."
"Mother!" cried tho girl.
"It is terrible." sho said feebly,
"terrible, Mr. Brlnton. lie did show
her attention?I"
Nan held the ring the letter con
tained, and, liarrlly knowing what she
did, slipped It on iter finger.
In a room with snaded light Tom
Lang lay at the point of death.
Nan was on her knees by the bed.
"Nell," he whispered. "Nell?good of
you?not forgotten. I'm blind?
I"
His hand was on hers, and it seemed
to her "that he gave a sigh as he
noticed the ring.
He sank back. The doctor was
there. Nan was conscious that some
thing had happened. The silence was
less acute. It seemed to her that tho
danger was past.
? ? ? ? ? ? ?
At the works they were very good
to her. She was given leisure to look
after the invalid.
The following day the injured man
was better. He seemed to Nan to be
looking at her, but sho knew that he
could not see.
"It Is good to know you are there,
Nan," he said, "but where is Nell?"
The girl gave a sob. Of course he
could not huve continued in the mis
take.
"She will be here?" he asked.
"Ves?she will?be here."
Tom Lnng spoke again, tho words
coming with difllculty.
"I am going to set her free, you
know. It was in my mind?it seems
long ago. She can't marry a blind
man, can she?"
"I?don't?know."
And it was In her heart to tell
him that her love would never have
stopped short at any sacrifice. But
then he never cared for her.
Day after day Nnn was at the
hospital?working on half time, tell
ing herself It was her duty to sit with
Tom.
How could sho ever bring herself
to toll him the truth about faithless
Nell? She would not dare?no, never.
It would be his death.
"It is strange," he said, one day?
"us both?Nell and I?being 111 like
this. You give her my messages?
You don't mind sittins with mo?" ho
said pitifully.
"No, I don't mind. Tom, dear."
in-; carkssks men.
"You are so good."
Ho caressed her toilwom hand.
Then a subtle change seemed to
her to como to Tom Lang. There were
days when ho never mentioned Noll.
"You work too hard," ho said to her.
"Oh, no," she replied brightly.
"Work is the very best tiling."
Nan watched him wistfully. Ho re
lied more and more on her. It was a
According to Contract.
MaBtor to Coachman?John, just so
down to tho well anil ilraw sonio wa
ter for Mollio!
John?I was engaged to drive
horses and not to draw water, sir.
Master?Oh, well. Just get tho
horses and carnago\out and drive
Mollio to the well, then I
relief to her to be with him In the
pretty cottage kept by Mrs. Bates, a
woman who had been let Into the
secret, and who could be trusted to
remain silent.
Tom watched for the girl. She took
him for walks along shady lanea,
and lie,apoko of his work?and some
times of N'eil.
"Nell has gone away," she satd.
"We thought If best."
"I see," said Tom quietly.
"Poor Nell," ho muttered. That was
all. He began to speak of Nan, and
of her work.
'They tell me," ho said, "that I shall
be able to gei oack my sight by de
grees. Mr. Baxton was here to-day,
and ho spoke as if 1 should soon Oe
able to return to work."
"I shall bo glad," said the girl.
"You arc so good," said Tom. "It
seems to me that you never think of
yourself."
Thanhs to Mr. Baxton, the head of
firm, tho operation to his eyes was
undertaken by a specialist, and one
day Nan saw him standing by tho
window gazing nt her.
"It is like a new world to me," he
said gravely. "Nan, dear, I am so
glad to be able to see you."
lie took her hand and kissed it, but
Nan drew back quickly, a flush over
spreading her face.
"But Nell," she murmured, thinking
that it was due to him to recall tho
absent girl.
Tom shook his head.
'.'I don't think, dear, that wo will
speak of Nell. You see, I know."
"You know?" cried Nan affrightedly.
"How did you know?"
"It was ono evening, long ago,
when 1 was seated there." Ho
pointed to tho Windsor chair. "I
thought of Nell. How foolish I was!
And you were there; you, tired out
with serving others. You dropped
to sleep with the book you had been
reading to mo- on your lap. It fell
to the ground. You began to talk
in your sleep, ami then I knew?
knew that Nell was no longer any
thing to me. that you were keeping
the story back for my sake."
"Tom, dear, I expect Nell will bo
very sorry one dsy. You loved her,
you know."
"I never loved her," he cried pas
sionately. "When I was attracted by
her I did not know what lovo was.
Nan, darling. It is you who have
taught me that, who have shown
mo *tho truth."
"Tom!"
"It Is true. You shielded her. I
don't think that thore could bo any
one in tlie world liko you.
He caught her to hlni. Sho was
sobbing now.
"Tom, you don't know what you
say. It can't be true. You don't know
"Oh, Tom,. I never thought?never
hoped; but If you aro sure," slio was
clinging to him.
"Nan, dearest, T know all now, and
my accident was tho luckiest chance
that could liavo come to me, for it
opened my eyes to tho truth."
Number One First.
"I've got a little Rift here for you
and Jim?a bottle of fine old Scotch
whiskey," said n kind employer to
one of his men. "Drop In at Jlm'B on
your way liomo and jjivo aim tills,
will you?"
"Certainly," replli-d tlio man. But
on hl? way lie fell and broke one
bottle. "X'oor Jim'" he murmured aa
ho picked himself up.
Copyright, 1914, by the Star Company.
Great Britain Rights Reserved.
A Complete Short Story
The Heart That
c ame Back
IS'EE him?I seo Don Juan sitting
In his chamber at an Immense
table of solid oak, with a big
Jug of wlno at his elbow, lie leans
against the table and stretches his
long legs across the floor, while, ab
sorbed In thought, ho stares at the
tips of his big boots.
So that Is how he loolcs, Don Juan,
the famous! IIow old Is ho? Forty
years, perhaps? Yes. ho may well be
forty with his raven beard| and curly
black locks and sparkling' eyes with
the llres of hell In them. Look how
slender he Is?not an ounco of su
perfluous flesh on him.
And Don Juan, originally merely a
product of imagination, seizes the
thought and liecomf^s a living, breath
ing creature. lie straightens him
self up, strokes his board, runs his
fingers through his wavy hair, takes
a deep draught from the jug and says:
"Well, yes. I?I am forty! What
about It? Am I not Don Juan, nev
ertheless? Are not all the women of
the world at my feet?"
He arises and laughs viciously, as
a wicked man laughs, with his lips
alone, his eyes Ignorant of the laugh.
He throws out ills chest and blows
himself like a rooster. Ho knows to
a point what an omnipotent fellow
he Is. Even to-dny he shall seo a new
proof of his power,..for the beautiful
Isabella has promised to meet him
here in this very room.
Ho turns on his heel and walks flvn
pjH-es along the floor, turns again,
walks back, turns otico more?then
slops and listens.
"H'tn! That was very strange!"
Ho raises his head and listens onco
more?walks again, stops and listens!
Suddenly he discovers that It Is not a
sonnu he hears but a sound he misses,
something that ought to be heard?
something ha# stopped somewhere?
but what Is It?
Ho remembers once lying on a wa
gon, the ungreased wheels of which
screeched. The monotonous grind of
the wheels mado him fall asleep and
followed him into his dreams, until
the wagon suddenly stopped and what
was nl lirsr a torture because It
screeched, now tortured him because
It had ceased.
Or ho has been listening to the
splashing of the rainwater from a
gutter throughout a whole long dpy,
until the rain began to cease and tho
Intervals between the sounds of the
dripping from tile gutter grew longer
and longar, painfully long.
Hut what Is it that la missing now?
'Te stands very quiet, listening, lays
his hand on his chest, all', .'.dors, and
turns palo with horror!
Ills heart Is not beating!
Ills heart?his heart! It is lmpo\
sible! He tears open his coat and
presses his hand against his naked
breast, against his hard ribs. No, his
heart Is not heating!
He stands thun for a long while,
holding his breath.
No, it is not beating! It has actu
ally stopped! Something has died In
the wonderful works within him
?And in a flash It Is revealed to him
that It must 1 c a long tlino since his
heart was lost. It is this very faith
ful tlck-tock he has be<Sn missing for
many years. Pcrhups ho never had a
heart. Yes, once-?very, very long
jiro It was only when his heart
was lost and disappeared that ho be
came Don Juan, tho Invincible, with
a glow In his eyes and an toy *smllo
noout I1I3 lips?this dreadful Don
Juan, who has nothing: but a shrug
of the shoulders for tho unfortunate
women who give him their lovo and
In return receivo merely contempt
Don -luan has no need of a heart.
And still! Ho crossed Ms arms and
pomlers. Once ho did have a heart.
Ho mumbled names of women and
counted on his lingers.
Maria? How was it about Maria?
Didn't ho^swoar twenty long years
ago, didn'tfhc swear by ills heart that
ho would be faithful to her? Faith
ful! llo spat on tho tloor with an
outbust of contempt, tt sounded
foolish, but nevertheless! Didn't ho
pawn ills heart to golden-haired Maria
?and forget all a"bout it?
He picked up his hat and went out
Into tho street, Tho town was old,
and time loves what is old. Surely
^larla must still bo living in the old
house at tho gate. Don Juan was
stubborn, ho wnated his heart back
now, though ho had no need of It
Whatever.
But the house was gone. Only a
heap of ruins was left to mark tho
placc whe?e Maria, tho beautiful,
lived. Children who never even heard
her name played among tho bricks. .
Don Juan stopped an old woman
who was passing. She pointed with
her stick to tho convent. There tho
noble gentleman must look for Maria.
It was such a sad story, hers. Thero
was ono who was faithless to her, and
who gave his heart into her keeping.
Tho old woman held out her trem
bling hand begging tor alms, but Don
Juan pushed it aside and rushed away
with long strides.
Don Juan stood at tho speaking
grill In tho convent. A flguro in black
approached the other side. Her face
was veiled. She was Sistor Maria.
"Woman!" said Don Juan, roughly,
"you luivo my heart. Give It back to
me!"
"Do jou remember?" sho asked. "So
you ?havo really not forgotten llttlo
Maria from the houso at tho gate?"
"Give mo my heart," said Don Juan,
who is not fond of tho wasting of
words.
A whlto trembling hand gave him
something through tho bars of tho
grill. He took it.
Ho went away without thanking
her, never turning around to look at
her, thinking, as always,- merely of
himself. iid when ho got outsido ho
held tho throbbing heart to his ear
and listened.
'How it boats," lie thought. "I wish
it wore in my bosom now."
And suddenly the heart was back,
where it ought to be. The evil glow
in his c-yo disappeared, tho vicious
smile about his n,,s vanished. Ho
bowed his head and sighed. Memories
came back to him?everywhere ho saw
little Maria, tho golden-haired mu,
gentle. There never was a woman w,
tho world like hor. 1,1
His pago tantc rushing up to him
A strange, noble lady was waiting for
him in his chamber. Don Juan must
como immediately. But Don Juan
shook ills head: What did ho caru for ?
tho strange lady. Let her go.
Don Juan walked across tho fields
In deep thought. Poor Don Juan, ho
got back his heart, and ho could nevor
love again, never lovo anybody but
her who gave him buck tho heart, and
sho was beyond his reach.