The Ohio Democrat. (Logan, O. [Ohio]) 1886-1906, 1886-07-17
JOHN CRINOLINE.
The Life-Poem Of a Man with a
Prosaic Name.

Ten years ago there were two notable
.Lings about John Crinoline; first, he
was heartily ashamed of his name, and,
second, he had read an extraordinary
number of French books. 1 may add
that his favorite French author was Cha
teaubriand. Those whose knowledge of
this renowned writer is derived wholly
from familiarity with the toothsome
steak bearing his name perhaps have a
more agreeable impression of him than
his books would give them. But John
Crinoline was such an admirer of Cha
on the coast of France, that he might
see for himself the house in which the
philosopher was born and stand on the
deserted island where his favorite au-
thor found a lonely grave. And the
only reason why he now loiters in the
Place Chateaubriand, gazing at the an
tics of pair of juvenile tight-rope walk
ers, is that the tide is in, the sea already
dashes against the ancient walls of the
town, and it is consequently impossible
to cross over the submerged sea dixie
which at ebb tide connects st. Malo with
the little island of Grand-Bey, on whose
outermost ledge rest the remains of Cha
teaubriand.
Besides, this is the time of tho harvest
moon, and John is persuaded that if he
would see the grave Alright he must view
it as Sir Walter rrecOmmends his readers
to view 'fair Melrose." At first he sat
after deje,ner smoking cigarette un-
der the awning outside the Hotel de
France and regarding with tranquil eye
the graceful woman on the superb black
horse. Her long riding habit clings to
her, as that .''outmost wrappage and
overall' that Carlyle speaks OF should
cling to every perfect form, and the
white plume in her plush hat mods with
each capriole of the handsome beast
Now and then she dances back and
forth attending the movements of two
children who are walking wires
stretched taut between poles perhaps
fifty feet apart and dozen feet high.
John can only see from his distant point
of view that one of these children has
long yellowish hair, and that both are
dressed in tinsei and tights. Some
Frenchmcn who sit near him slipping
Chartreuse have so many things to say
about the horscwOman that presently
his curiosity is aroused and he Joins the
spectators gathered in circle around
the wires.
The boy and girl have ceased to act
in concert, but starting out from the
opposite end of their wires, are walking
toward each other alone. A beetle
browed man PAGES between ready to
render assistance in case of disaster.
The boy, alert and supple, his cheeks
aflame with the exercise, trips lightly to
the middle of his wire, and there, pois-
ing himself for an instant, begins Oscil-
lating to and fro.
"C01nme-ca, c0nln1e-cGr' he cries, in
a bantering tone to the little girl. who
has Travelled her wire more cautiously.
She pauses at his call and casts timid,
beseeching glance at the beetle-browed
man, who responds to 1t with a fierce
grimace, clenching his fists. 1t is the
episode of an instant and doubtless John
Crinoline is the only one who observes
it. At any rate the effect it has upon
him is surprising. His eyes flash and
he elbows his way impetuously to the
inner edge of the crowd.
"Annette'' calls the handsome horse.
woman in a deep warning tone, draw.
ing rein abreat Of thechild. The sound
of her voice works sudden change in
the girls attitude. A shiver runs
through tho shapely little limbs; she
darts trembling glance at the boy
who is swinging gaily on his wire, and
then, with a piteous attempt at smile,
begins slowly to rock herself. The boy,
capering like a monkey, shouts "Plus
vite! plus vite!'' and the beetle-browed
man, taking up the words, repeats
them IN menacing tone, looking uI
sayagely into her small, pallid face. il
may be that they have unnerved her
perhaps she is blinded by the tears thai
gather to her bright eyes; at any rate
John Crinoline SECS she Is falling, and
with very wicked oath on his lips
springs forward just in time to save
her.
"Cest damage" says the horsewom
an coldly. "Merci bien. Monsieur"
For answer John Crinoline, still hold
ing the little tinsel form in his arms
glares up at the woman with such fury
that she bushes. Then he turns t
meet Annette's blue eyes gazing will
wonder into his,