The Saint Paul globe., March 04, 1900, Page 21, Image 21

About The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905

Image provided by: Minnesota Historical Society; Saint Paul, MN

                
White's Llttk Brama.
(From the French.)
"Bnfin," Crted Madame, tersely, "1 am
tired! You are setting old and jealous.
Kh, bier., If you want a ilsvoree si.-k it as
MX.n as _\,m please!" And, having fired
this parting shot, she banned the boudoir
door after her departing husband, who a
lew second* later slammed the hall om
In reply.
Fetidte Deforges listened until the
BPgry iv\ tiberations had died away, anl
then catching sight of her pretty face
in a mirror opposite, shook her spirited
little head wickedly at the reflection, and,
ringing for her maid, at once proceeded
to don an exquisite confection she was
to wear at the Beaupre'-e garden part)
thai same afternoon, the toilette being
lh( remote, the party the approximate
Cause ot tin- quanvl Which had Just i.er
minated, for M. Deforce* did not approve
of the Beaupre connection, the eldest son
of that distinguished house having mote
than once expressed emphatic admiration
for Madame.
Monsieur Deforges walked straight on
through the erowued streets with bent
head and muttering lips, his hands thrust
deep Inta his pockets, two perpfcndietalar
lines showing under the brim of the soft
hat pulled over his toirows: At a street
corner, he encountered a tram-car; the
"color toM hlnV that it wont toward the
country, and M. Deforges was in a mood
to commune with Nature.
The change of locomotion did not raise
his spirits, for that dusky jade, jealousy,
who loves men better than any of her
sex, companioned him still. Mechanical
ly he lit a cigarette and let it go out; the
wind blew th- ashes over the dolman of a
severe matron seated beside him, and he
never apologized.
On swept ibe tram through the reeltiug
truttle of the working-day streets and the
lengthening line of dwellings on either
hand, whose formal ugliness made him
s-hudder. and suddenly, it seemed, .he
found himself at the foot of the famous
hill. The place did not appear so amus
ing as when he and his wife saw It first
one April Sunday two years ago., and had
climbed to the top, pointing out to each
other the tender jjreen of the young elm
leaves beside a conventicle pouring forth
Its wooden-faced congregation, and
taught In the air faint suggestions of lilac.
from Invisible gardens, anu saw daffodils
abloom in nursery beds. How happy
they had been, she with her rounded arm
within his and her weight pressing upon
It intermittently in mock fatigue, hei
shoulder nestling against his in the very
eyea of that starched Sundaj^world. For
was she not his wife, mon Dieu, and
were they not only three weeks married.
And now, that morning, she had told
him he was old!
"Is one old at thirty-six?" he asked
himself breathlessly. Perhaps not, but
one has been younger, one must admit;
and then w-lu-n one's- eyc-3 are sadly
strained by > '.oso app'iiva'Uon to the fine
etching Work, that paysso well and costs
.-•) mucfa ihe> aie not quite lustrous.
Furthermore, on that spring day two
years bark lie had thought quite natural
ly of climbing the hill, now he thought ad
naturally oi" permitting himself to be car
ried up. To banish this lellection he got
down at the next halting place and sought
the top on foof.
It appeared meaner, more skimped and
shrunken than when he had seen it last,
and the roof slates were hemming in
everything it was pitiful, and he struck
off for a walk in the "country." meeting
houses at every turn. Once or twice he
paused to look over black-painted fence
boards Inclosing trim lawns where nur
sery maids were playing, their flute-like
HCd-nts rising and falling in silvery ca
dence with gusts of laughter in between—
music shaken from fairy bells —and then
went 0:1 again, pleased in hia foolish
French way because others were happy.
But through it all one cruel sentence kept
ringing in his ear, "You are getting old,"
and though his heart said "No," hia
brain said •'V>s."
At a corner of one of the long, narrow
paths which radiated' interminably on
every sid< lie niiklenly er.«contered a girl
advancing rapidly from an opposite direc
tion. So swiftly did she come that he
almost jostled her; lifting his hat he
1 aside, and, when ho had taken a !
few steps, luoked back. She had done the
same. Their eyes met; he smiled. She
gazed at him slowly, without any sugges
tion of coquetry or indignation; and then,
■with a pendulous swing1 of her skirts,
Which he misconstrued, passed onward.
He oouM not have known that just c.s
she turned she had caught the glint of 1
spectach-s over a garden railing, where
an elderly neighbor of gossiping habit
was observing the Incident.
The tpinude did not improve his equa
nimity, and, oddly, the girl's fre3h- face |
reminded him. too, of the handful of
primroses Foliclte had gathered on that
pleasant Sunday morning.
When lie had gone a little further he
mechanically looked at his watch, and, |
lighting another cigarette, began to re- 1
trace his steps, walking slowly and men
tally^estlmating the "values" of a gable- |
end here, a window there, a beech stem i
beyond. Then the gaunt scaffolding of a !
half flni-hed house, whose unfortunate j
owner was learning the ways of building j
societies, caught his eye, audit looked so j
like a ruin that it made him think of the |
Colosseum, which he had never seen, and I
muse upon the mutability of Fortune, as j
well as the flight of Time. The reflections
were hardly profound and not at all orig
inal, but they led him to think of death,
and he did not find the thought repellent.
At that exact moment the fingers of his
left hand, still in his pocket, encountered
a small pencil-like object. He drew It
forth Incuriously. Ah, yes, it was a stray
cartridge—one of the fifty he had pur
chased a week before for the revolver 1
Felicite had Induced him to buy, her I
nerves having been jarred.-owing to the
sensational account of a commonplace
burglar> in their neighborhood. He saw
the revolver Itself quite distinctly now
In the upper drawer of a writing table,
placed absurdly by his wife across the
window of a room opening on their cham
ber, whence, she stated, she could watch
him as he worked. He would go home
and get it, and—well, she need not qual
ify for a divorce court.
It Is characteristic that he did not con
template murder as well as sdlcide. He
had no! a violent sense of justice; and,
beside*, he shrunk from killing a woman.
One meanness at a time was enough for
him, though I do not think he considered
the act h L - so suddenly meditated mean or
criminal. He had no faith in anything
save himself, and he had grown tired of
himself in an hour.
He was the product of an age when
MUNYON'S INHALER
&* a CATARRH
vS9 Colds, Coughs,
ifA«s£^iilS£ Hay Fever, Brcn-
JL JT^fflßLchitis, Asthma
HJffl ■ Bana bU Diseases
\W Oi the Throatam>
Clouds of Vindicated Vapor are inhal*4
through the mouth and emitted from the nos
trils, cleansing and raporl/ing all the Inflame
•ltd diseased parti which cannot bo reached by
medicine taken loto the stomach.
Jl reaches the tore spots—lt heals the rout
places—Jt goes to the seat ot disease—lt. acts as
a balm ana tonic to the whole system—sl oi> at
truggistt. orient by mail. 150b Arch iU.,I 1/ui»
every cobbler is a comparative philoso
pher, and drives a fresh nail in the coffin
Of Christianity with every additional tack
he hummers home. Being a Frenchman,
he accepted tfce teaching of his century
without any hypocritical twaddle about
duty for duty's sake; he hud done what
pleased him all his life, and now it
Dteased him to die. It was very simple.
He rapidly reviewed his business en
gagements, and fleiermlned to write one
or two letters canceling some agreement;
thtMi he would be quite free, because his
last batch of magazine work had been
sent in that very morning. Indeed, his
quarrel with madame h:id at first been
begotten of the ennui engendered between
an unoccupied man and a preoccupied
woman, for it was M. Deforges' custom
to snatch a rure holiday at the comple
tion of a heavy task.
He glanced at his watch again and set
off for home. He did not take an omnibus
on the return journey. It occurred t<j him
that ho would reach his destination soon
enough on foot. The sun was shining
pale; but persistent, through the tons of
coal overhead, and the afternoon was
<iuite warm. He smiled, reflecting how
I'elicito must be enjoying herself, and
what an interesting denouement he was
preparing on her return; and as he went
through the gray-vlsaged throng he elab
orated detail's.
Mme. Deforges did not go to the gar
den party. At the last moment it was
discovered that a black plait was irre
deemably wrong, and I regret to record
that she and Stephanie, her little maid,
uttered some Improper and shockingly
true things about milliners and the con
tours they are privileged to drape.
"Take the abominable thing back at
once!" cried madame tragically, "and tell
the animal that I am a woman—not a
gallows. And take the afternoon' for
thyself, child."
Left alone, madame enjoyed a good cry,
and then having bathed her limpid eyes,
changed her dress, and felt better. She
THE REAL DIFFICULT PART.
1 <^^-^^
Mrs. Tanque—Do you think you could stop drinking during the forty days of
Lent?
Mr. Tanque—lt would be easy as far as the days are concerned, but I wouldn't
like to swear about the nights.
cheated thirty minutes or so In dusting
the gaudy little reception room down
stairs, with its crystoleum reproductions
of Bougereau. and other dainty nick
nacks, telling herself that her husband
was hideously unreasonable, and most
ilioglcally wishing him back again In
stead of wasting their holiday by sulking.
She decided, too, when posting his pho
tograph for the tenth time opposite her
own under the adorably gilt mirror from
the Rue de Rivoli, that he was not at all
old, but rather quite young, which was
perfectly true—as far'as the photo went.
She compared him with the Beaupres,
father and son, very much to the disad
vantage of both gentlemen. She remem
bered that he had remained her lover
through two April years of married life,
a fact highly creditable to his taste, and
it was this circumstance rendered their
frequent makingup so interesting, for
he was exceedingly original. She decided
that this reconciliation should be a mem
orable one.
Donning an apron, she went down to
the cook, and with her own dimpled hands
prepared a favorite dish of his, planning
as she worked the evening's programme.
There would be, first of all, the reconcil
iation in a pathetic tea gown. Then they
would go to the play, and afterward to
supper at a gay restaurant, where every
body would be In the best possible tem
per, and the Problems of Life, shivering:
at the door outside, be cheated for a few
golden ante-meridian hours, and ever as
the laughing minutes flew she would grow
coyly seductive and Leon appreciative,
and the waiter from Languedoc confiden
tial as he brought them—well, the second
bottle of violet-breathing Chateau Lafltte.
Her cooking finished, she hurried to the
piano and tinkled off a morceau of Cho
pin, rendered a la Francalse Beethoven's
"Moonlight," which she rapidly changed
for the sunshine of Mozart, and then, she
could hardly tell why, slipped into a "Tri
umphal March" redolent with memories
of the peaceful Breton convent where she
had spent three years of heedless girl
hood. It had formed, she remembered,
j the overture to a five-act drama illustrat
ing the virtues of St. Elizabeth, a per
formance in which she had taken the title
role, but without once opening her mouth,
as she appeared only in the last tableau,
when Elizabeth lay dead upon her bier in
the dim-vaulted church, and Frederick 11.
placed his own diadem Upon her worn
brow, naughty Felicite being chosen for
this Instead of the convent pet, who had
sustained the saintly part up to that
point, owing to her trick of retaining her
breath and keeping a perfectly rigid pose
for an almost indefinite period.
She suddenly ceased playing and went
to the mirror, holding her breath, ten,
thirty, sixty seconds, a minute and a half.
Bon! It wag death itself, and her cheek,
how pale it grew! She closed one eye
and regarded herself critically. She was
really bewitching—so pale, so calm, so
utterly remote from a sordid, a sinful,
and, it must be confessed, a somewhat
dingy world. If only one could be sure
of being like that when one really dies!
Ouf, she was growing fanciful. Shrugging
her shoudlers, she glanced at her watch,
Leon's latest present, and pouted. It was
very late and he had not come back. Wag
ever a loving little wife, eager to forgive,
treated so before? Perhaps he would nev
er return! Perhaps he had gone off with
some abandoned woman.. Impossible a3
such a contingency should be, it was, nev
ertheless, not altogether improbable
Suddenly a thought struck her—so
dramatic, so artistic, that she clapped her
hands and laughed aloud. She would
write him a farewell letter, expressing her
regret for what had occurre 1* end assur
ing him that he would never have cau<*e
to fly into a passion with his devoted wife
again, since she had taken poison, and
had quitted forever a world his heartless
ness had made unbearable. Then she
would lie on the marriage couch, hod her
breath and hoar what he had to say—she
felt he could be eloquent.
Changing her robe for a more elaborate
one, glorified by a Medici collar, trimmed
with ostrich tips that had never scurriod
across a desert plain, she hastened to th*
THE Sft PAUL GLOBE, SUNDAY, MARCH 4, 1900.
table before the bay window, and com
menced to pen the note. It took some
time to compose, and. like other chefs
d'oeuvre, was never ended, for while sh«
was searching the word of the situation
she heard a step in the hall. It was Le
on's—he had let himself in with the latch-
key.
Flying to a cabinet she took a small,
half emptied phial of laudanum from it,
sprinkled a few drops on her lips and
threw herself on the bed.
She heard him coming up the stairs, not
quickly, according to hia wont. On the
landing he paused to turn the handle of
the boudoir door for a moment, and then,
laughing harshly, continued his ascent,
breathing somewhat heavily as he reach
ed the top. At last he entered, and she
shut her eyea.
At first M. Deforges noticed nothing un
usual, being engaged turning the key in
the lock; then his eye fell on the open
letter. He approached and read it care
fully, and Its tinsel pathos seemed con
vincing. Then, quite mechanically, he
turned to the bed. There lay his wife,
silent, motionless as a carved statue, not
a flutter of the blue-veined lids so tran
quilly closed, not a tremor of th< high
bosom on which he placed his hand with
Instinctive reverence.
"Ma femme," he muttered, brokenly.
"Thank God the child died!"
He bent and kissed her, catching the
odor of the laudanum, and sighing again.
Her skirts were a trifle disarranged, ow
ing to the hurry of the pose. He rear
ranged them in orderly folds over the lit
tle arched feet. Hia wife felt a tear
trickle on her brow a moment later. In
spite of her will a blush stole across her
cheek, but he did not see, for he turned
away at the instant, muttering, "Mon
Dieu," which is no proof that he believed
In God.
Knowing from his retreating steps that
he was going to the writing table she
opened an eye and watched him out of
the corner, wondering what he would do,
for she felt sure his artistic instincts
would not allow him to think of the
stomach pump.
He had lit a match, and, standing with
his back to her still, was burning the
letter slowly. Having done this he sat
down and took the discarded pen, but
presently threw it aside with a little
laugh, which made her think the Joke
had gone far enough. At the same mo-
ment she strove to arise, and turned the
upper portion of her body slightly, but
suddenly found herself held motionless as
if by the hand of Death she cheated so
well. She parted her lips to utter a cry,
but no sound came, although her intelli
gence warned her of what was imminent
even before he reached toward the draw
er containing the pistol.
The phial, which slipped from her hand, !
oscillated a second on the slope of tho
counterpane and dropped on the fanti a ti 0
rug below, but the slight noise did not
distract his attention, and she could onry
watch with panting breath the man cool,
ly loading the revolver.
Would nothing happen? Would God
permit this? Would He allow a little
Home to be wrecked because—because a
man was so unreasonable? It was <iuel
-Infinitely, unutterably cruel—and alas!
also as unutterably absurd-s o absurd
that the sense of it wrung her with in
ternal laughter, that caused an actual
physical pain as laughter sometimes can
An awful drumming thundered through
her ears, a mist grew before her straining
c-yes. the attentive figure opposite faded
gradually, but all the while she under
stood how vividly everything would
spring into relief when the pistol-shot
would break her trance. At th<> same
time she became conscious of intolerable
discomfort caused by something touching
her face with light, persist-iu contact
The tentacles of some crawling thing her
imagination told her, and the amu.yan - c
was magnified with inconceivable rapla
ity.
It was really the delicate spiral of one
of the feathers trimming her high rurr
gently agitated by her spasmodic breath
ing, but had it been the most loathsome
thing that ever buzzed above an African
swamp she could not have lifted a hand
to brush it away.
In a moment it seemed that her body
had become one mass of creeping tor
ment, and under the stress of the Uea
the mist curved from before her eyes,
and she saw her husband wheel round the
chair, as he had been accustomed to Oo
of evenings when she was suffering from
great afterthought concerning the locking
of the hall door; but he did not loolc
toward the bed.
He was gazing steadfastly at the pistol,
and he slowly raised the hand which held
it. She made a last frantic Internal
struggle, but her tense body did not mov«
the fraction of an inch, though her pant
ing respirations sent the fragile feather
spirals against her face, so that the un
known horror seemed creeping to her
mouth, and then—she sneezed.
Ho looked round, startled out of hts
purpose, and they saw each other through
their tears.
m ,
Personally Conducted Tours to Cali
fornia In Pullman TonrUt Sleep-
Ing: Cars.
Via Chicago Great Western Railway to
Kansas City, and Santa Fe route to Los
Angeles and Southern California. Only
line having new Pullman tourist sleepers
equipped with wide vestibules, steam heat
and gas light. One of these new sleepers
leaves St. Paul at 8:10 a. m. every Mon
day, via Chicago Great Western for Los
Angeles and Southern California via Kan-
Baa City, and reaches Los Angeles the
following Friday morning. These tours
are personally conducted by an expo
rienced official, who accompanies the train
to its destination. The cars are well
equipped for a long journey and are as
comfortable as the standard sleepers
while the price for a double berth 1b only
about one-half. Full information fur
nished by J. P. Elmer, G. A. P. D.. Fifth
and Robert streets. St. Paul.
Bnllct-Proof Shield.
A bullet-proof shield has been invented
by a steel-making firm. This shield is
fixed to the rifle, and weighs only seven
pounds, giving complete cover to a man
'ying prone.
»■ .
Water Hard to Heat.
hoTt at with Vi 6 hardes* of all substances to
st^^jsssH this z
What to Do tor the Baby.
IN olden Greece when the wife accepted the obligation of motherhood, Dr. Pierced Favorite Prescription is not a cure-all. It has one pur
all her days of pre-natal preparation were spent among the fairest pose, the cure of womanly diseases, and it has power adequate to that
scenes and most beautiful objects. Wherever her eye fell it purpose. It establishes regularity and dries the drains that sap womanly
rested beauty. Her feet mored to and fro to pleasant melodies, vitality. It heals inflammations and ulcerations which cause so much
Her mind was fed on the high thoughts of the poets. For this reason suffering to weak women. It cures female weakness. It makes mater
the children of these Greek mothers furnished models of physical beauty nity easy and gives strength alike to nursing mother and nursling child,
which have ever since put the world to shame. Its whole mission is to make weak women strong and sick women well.
The time that most can be done for the baby is before its birth. There is no alcohol in " Favorite Prescription** and it contains neither
With every B*H<*k the mother puts into the dainty wardrobe she pre- opium, cocaine, nor any other narcotic. Mothers may use it without the
pares, there shoutd go some happy loving thought. With everymeal fear tliat the child will begiu to acquire the taste for alcohol at the pure
eaten, with everj household duty easily accomplished, with each night's fountain of the breast,
refreshing sleep,_t^iDie should come the thought, "All this counts for
baby's wellbeing." WMAT WMUMFMi IMJAUT
But how ca^,^tl this be possible for the woman who is in daily WTHJia WVWWMKLn WWMnM .
misery of minded body ? What many a woman wants above all else is the opportunity to tell
It is impossible. ; her story to a physician with whom science and sympathy walk hand in
The first thing £ mother should do for her baby is to establish her hand. She shrinks from telling her story to the local practitioner and
own health. If ifee doesn't she will bear "a child of spleen to be a undergoing the unpleasant questionings, the indelicate examinations and
thwart disnatugett $o torment her." The baby's will be but the the obnoxious local treatments, considered necessary by many physi
eclio of her own;-the baby's face will reflect the anguish lined in her cians. She hesitates before accepting the offer of "free medical advice"
own features. • made by men or women who do not claim to be physicians, and, there-
Mothers who have used Dr. Pierces Favorite Prescription during fore, at the best can only give second-hand advice, which could not take
the pre-natal testify to its wonderful health-giving qualities ; to into consideration the variations of womanly temperament and charac
the cheerful mind and healthy body with which the mother comes to the ter. She wants help— real help. She wants to lean on the strong
day of travail, and of the almost painless birth hour. It does wonder- manly arm of some accredited physician whose reputation is vouched
fui things. It is a wonderful medicine. for, alike by his long experience and the celebrity of his cures. What
oil w onion win t 111 'ill v
vorite Prescription Pierce%°\eter free.
over all other put-up medicines for woman's use is this : It cures when All correspondence strictly private and sacredly confidential. Address
all other medicines have failed to cure. It does time and again what Dr. R. V. Pierce, Buffalo, N. Y.
the local practitioner has failed to do, and what in many cases he In the past thirty years and over, assisted by his staff of nearly a
declares cannot be done—cures womanly disease of long standing, and score of skilled physicians, Dr. Pierce has treated and cured more than
cures them perfectly and permanently. half a million women. There is no similar offer of free medical advice
which has behind it a physician of the national repute of Dr. Pierce,
MORE PROOF* w*tn. a. Bta? °f nearly a score of trained medical assistants, each man a
XT . , , _ specialist in some one or more of the diseases peculiar to women.
r i . a ea^ su£ erer from female weakness," writes Mrs. M. B. Wallace, Buy your medicine as you buy your flour—on its record No HpsW
eight bottles of the 'Favorite Prescription ' and four of 'Golden Medical Discov- has trled a?d Proven. The dealer says : "Ibis is just as good." She
cry.' I now feel like a new woman. I have gained eighteen pounds." Bays '• "Thanks. I'll want something better before I change.
• "My A had been poor for many year* and f had taken a great dealo/tned- Dr. Pierces Favorite Prescription is the standard medicine of the
crW^ta^^^ world for women. Whenadealer offers a substitute as "just"as good,"
sleep, for when I weut to bed I had nervous Pasthma and aISWt trouble I £ U hlm ? ou ar« not making experiments. You want either " Favorite
wrote to Dr. Pierce and he kindly advised me to take his 'Favorite Prescrip- Prescription, t ne remedy with a record or something better, with the
tion.' I took five bottles of the ' Prescription' and one bottle of the 'Golden proof behind the claim. There's nothing "just as good "as the "Pre-
Medical Discovery,' and I feel like a new woman." scription." There can't be anything better.
RAtSSNQ A BMBY is »™*iMn 9 '**' can't be done by InstinoU It needs knowledge. All
the knowledge any woman needs Is found In Or* Pleroe's Common
Sense Medical Adviser, oontalnlng 1008 large pages and more than 700 Illustrations, This great
work on household medicine and hygiene Is sent FREE on receipt of stamps to pay expense of mall'
ing ONLY. Send 21 one»cent stamps for the book bound In paper, or 31 stamps for It In cloth covers.
Address: Dr. R. V. PIEROE, Buffalo, N. Y.
PRISONER IN MANILA
AN INTERESTING TALK WITH
a<:m\ u.ixr.s wikh, who IS
A CAPTIVH
HER LITTLE SON WITH HER
Grieve* Because Su« I» Net WIU» Che
Filipino Chief to Share His Dan.
K«r-Sayi He lUin Been Betrayed
by Ills Own People—Claims to lie
a ('hrlatlan, but Beiteves lv Tiiga.
lok Spirits.
MANILA, Jan. 25!—Agulnaldo's wife
and child are prisoners in this city.
Aguinaldo has defied the power of the
United States for more than a year, but
his wife and chlldcould not run as quick
ly as he. Therefore they are here, guard
ed and cared for by a kindly government.
The Senora Aguinaldo—her Christian
name is Juanita—has given an interview
to the New York Journal correspondent.
She Is an intensely pathetic figure. She
has Buffered terrible sorrows, but the
greatest of all is that she cannot be with
her husband now, sharing the hardships
of his flight. She is ignorant, supersti
tious, faithful beyond words.
It was on Jan. 10 that the Senora Aguin
aldo and her child, together with many
other Filipinos, fell Into the hands of the
Americans. A«uinaldo's forces had been
scattered in all directions. They ran for
the mountalna and the swamps. They
were unable to carry away any women
and children who could not endure the
worst hardships of the men. The Senora
Aguinaldo and her child surrendered to
MaJ. March* battalion of the Thirty
third infantry at Bontoc.
She had been ill since the birth of a
daughter, who died.^Bayombong. But
for this illness she would doubtless have
struggled on with heir hysband. She even
started out with he^;, child, but after she
had fallen down frop exhaustion Aguin
aldo sent her back'^tp^ Bontoc, knowing,
like an Intelligent toarf, that the best
thing that could happen to her would be
to fall In the hands'^ the Americans.
She was sent on i)y" boat to Manila,
where she was allied*, with a number
of her friends, to 'Aceilpy a comfortable
house in the native quarter; She is kept
under a corporal's guard, so that she
may not incite any of the natives with
in the city to insurrection or act as an
intermediary between them and Aguin
aldo. The soldiers are also necessary for
her protection, as many of the natives
are bitterly incensed against Aguinaldo.
She receives a large amount of liberty,
and the guards are scrupulously careful
not to intrude upon the privacy of her
domestic arrangements.
WHERE SHE IS LIVING.
It was toward the close of a fiercely
hot afternoon last week that I made a
call upon the Senora Aguinaldo. The
house" she is occupying is No. 11, Calle,
San Jose. This is In the native quarter
and in the most aristocratic part of it.
No Americans, Spaniards or any other
Europeans live there. It is the most In
teresting: quarter of Manila. To pass
through it, however. Is not without dan
ger for Americana. The houseß of the
better class, such as that occupied by
Senora Aguinaldo, are rough~"and plain
on the outside, but within they are.
charming and show much artistic origi
nality.
When my quells or two-wheeled trap
reached the house I was first stopped by
the corporal, whose duty it is to ascer
tain the business of all who wish to com
municate with the Aguinaldo family. The
guard on this day was furnished by the
Twentieth infantry. I had a note from
tho commanding officer, but in accordance
with the standing orders the soldiers had
first to ask the Senora Aguinaldo if she
would see me. The authorities will not
allow her to be annoyed by mere curios
ity seekers.
The Senora Aguinaldo was willing to
receive me. I had the goof fortune to
find her in the garden with her child, en
joying the brief moments between the
heat of the tropic day and darkness. She
was sitting In the shade of a Nlpa palm.
At first sight the Senora Aguinaldo is
a disappointment. She does not make a
good photograph. Sorrow and suffering
■have left indelible marks upon her fea
tures, but In spite of these she is quite
fat. Her eyes, however, are her best
feature, and more than make up for
other deficiencies. They are large, dark,
brilliant and full of feeling. She Is prob
ably thirty-five years old, and, consider
ing her trials, she is quite well
preserved. She must be older than her
husband. Altogether she is a typical
Filipino woman of the half civilized Tag
alog tribe.
She wore the panuela. a loose garment
of brilliantly colored siik, which Is th<j
most characteristic feature of Filipino
civilized dress. With it she wore a stlff
atarched skirt, with a train, and slippers.
This Is the conventional dress of the Fil
ipino woman of the better class in Ma
nila.
A great diamond brooch fastened her
panuela, her fingers were loaded with
rings, and she had Jewels in plenty.
THE YOUNG SON.
The little Miguel Agutnaldo, only son
of the Filipino leader, is altogether
charming. Six years old, bright-eyed,
merry as a cricket, he ought to grow up
to be a useful citizen of the Greater
United States. His mother showed the
profoundest affection for him, and they
made a pleasant picture together.
With the Senora Agulnaldo were the
her. They are daughters of Col. Bityar, a
Senorltas Sityar, who surrendered with
distinguished member of Aguinaldo's
staff, who la now putting his best foot
forward a few yards ahead of the Amer
ican, forces. These young women are
ideal types of Filipino beauty. Their eyes
are gems of loveliness.
Conversation with the Senora Aguinal
do proved quite difficult. Her native lan
guage is Tagalog. The medium through
which she seeks to communicate with
Americans Is a mixture of English, Span
ish nnd Chinese, with a little Tagalog
thrown In whenever the others fail.
I will not endeavor to reproduce the pe
culiar phrases with which the Senora
Aguinaldo assailed mo, for the result
would make the worst Scotch dialect ap
pear a mild form of humor by compari
son.
Senora Agulnaldo is a believer in her
husband's greatness of soul and lofty
patriotism.
"Would you not rain*. -» safe here in
Manila, Senora Agulnaldo, * I asked,
"than out in the country, where you
might get shot?"
"No, no," she cried. "I no care for
shot. I want to be with Emllio. to share
his danger. He will win yet, and I shall
not be with him to see his triumph.
"He would have conquered when he
drove the Spanish Into Manila, but ho
trusted the Americans, and they cheated
him. He has been betrayed by his own
people, too, but he will triumph yet.
WANTED TO KILL HIM.
"These enemies were always trying se
cret ways to kill him. They bribed our
cook to put poison in the food, but I al
ways tasted the food first. Once I took
some soup containing a lot of poison.
It made me very ill, but Emilio was
saved.
"Three cooks they hired to poison uj,
but I found them all out. and they wer«
not able to harm us any more.
"Very often his enemies shot at him in
the battle from his own side, but he hai
a charmed life, and no bullet can harm
him. Bullets have stiuek him and faller
harmless to the ground.
"When Emllio first became president ol
the republic I was very happy. I had
two hundred dresses and boxes full ol
Jewels.
"When our army went on the march 1
carried twelve barrels of dresses with me,
but when the horses died I had to throw
them away.
"At Bayombong last November my Ut«
tie daughter was born and then died. ]
was very ill, but still kept on, and would
have done so as long ns I could crawl.
It was only because Emillo said I should
be a burden to the army that I surrender,
ed to the Americana."
"What did you do when the fighting wai
going on?" asked the writer.
"I stayed with Emllio. When his dutj
required him to be In the fight I was
there. I helped to load rifles for him and
his comrades."
"But what did you do with the child?"
"lie was with m«. too. I made him lit
down In the trenches so that ha might
not get shot."
"If your husband is so powerful, why
is he always retreating?'.
"H« has been betrayed by his own
people. They do not all know what Is for
their own good. He has had many mis
fortunes, too. The spirits have been
against him for a time, but all will be
well again. At Tarambong th« Igorottcs
would not fight because a pink-eyed cara
bao ran before them. The Americans used
maglo."
"I und«rstand you are a Christian, but
you talk about spirits?"
"Yes. of course, I am a Christian; but
we have our own Tagalog spirit*. They
understand our needs. Perhaps we have
done something to anger them lately, but
they will not bo angry long."
"What will you do when your husband
becomes president, as you expect?"
"I shall "have a golden crown with dia
monds and rubles and emeralds and a
panuela of gold lace."
"Wouldn't It be better to be a queen?"
"No, we can't have a queen, because
the Spaniards have one. Emllio become
president, lik« the Immortal Washington,
who beat the Spaniards."
The Senora would not tell where her
husband was, although she said she had
news from, him and that he would soon
be down upon the Americana with a
large army.
"You do not know his spirit." s!;a said,
"or you would not try to conquer him."
The Senora admitted that she had l»c-n
very well treated by the American*, and
added that Emllio would treat the Ameri
cans just as well when ha took Manila.
21