The Montgomery advertiser., 1903-12-13

large cartridge. 'It is a perfect mlnia- lure, he said. 'of my machine that will XII death and give us all life as long as we love it. But it is low powered: it will only efface the wrinkles from wo- mems bows. It canot conquer time, as my great machine will,- but 1t wipes out the period marks that time leaves upon our face"
 And not few were sold and are now in toilet use by the ladies of Ninth Ave- nut, but not nearly as many as the Chev- alier had expected. The looked for money needed for the prosecution of his great in- vention was not forthcoming. and perhaps for the first time an appreciation of his solitary and precarious position oppressed the old inventor, a derelict of so many careers.
 Pathetic Loneliness.
 In this mood he went into the little shop next door where a good woman washes and irons the neighborhood linen. "Oh, how lonely feel!' he exclaimed. "Oh, if I had but a son or some one could trust; some one who could understand. To think that if should die tonight all would be lost"
 You must run a little wire from your shop into our bedroom. Chevalier," said the good neighbor, "and then if you are sick yop can let us know" The suggestion warmed the very cookies of his heart and he told her of a great anxiety that was his.
 Men were trying to steal from him his invention. They wanted to rob him of the fruits of his life work. Sometimes he could see them peering in at his base ment window. Once at least he knew they had tried to break into his work shop. That was the reason why he had placed paddock on each of the doors leading to itr. No, he had worked too hard and long for that He had worked for humanity. but not for robbers.
 How glad I am," he said as he went through the basement door, that sent my good wife home to where all is sun shine and every one is so friendly!" Saturday came and went and the Chev- alier was seen no more; not a sound came from his gloomy abode. On Sunday morning the neighbors went to the police station and reported their fears. An hour later the house was entered. One by one the staples of the defensive padlocks were drawn and then for the first time the wonders of the hermit's den were laid bare to Ninth Avenue eyes. The floors were without rugs or carpets and the fur niture meagre. but upon the walls were hung the famous heads of the laughing gods of the Toltecs, to secure which in
 
 taken an adventurous journey into the land of the Mayas.
 over his working desk hung a picture enshrined in a gilded frame quaintly carved, such as was given the medieval Madonnas in old Spain. Before 1t stood two candlesticks, with lights long since burnt out; beneath 1t a priedieu. All Ninth Avenue filed by and recognized in the features of the portrait the wife the 1tar l
 the future for him grew dark and stormy. Upstairs and more padlocks had to be drawn, more bolts broken. At last the bedroom of the hermit was reached, and there he lay cold upon the floor. His face was drawn, his arms raised in a convulsive, defensive gesture. When the examination was concluded the doctors said that death was due to natural causes and that 1t had probably been instantane- ous.
 On one side of the corpse was the electric motor that was to give eternal life. on the other several of the machines that were expected to efface times period marks from the faces of men. On the table by the bedside was notide from the landlord to vacate the premises in forty-eight hours, which in a sense had been obeyed
 Dozens passed by the dead man and the wonder working machines which, with their master gone. stood there silent and bereaved. Another effort to burst the bonds of humanity had failed, and soon all Ninth Avenue went hustling back to work The watchmen from the public administrator office put in an appear ance, and soon the sanctuary of the hermit was dishevelled. the laughing gods and the serene face of the portrait look ing out from a wreath of orange blossoms and cloud of mantilla lace were packed up and carted off to that great warehouse where are piled up, awaiting claimants, the pictures and the souvenirs, all the little precious, Insignificant things which were dear to the stranger dead.