The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1885-1921, 1903-09-20
lone SHALL.
Be TAKEN, !"
An Episode and a Memory
in the Life OF a Nan Who
Had Attained Success at
Last.


don. The policemen at Hyde Park
Corner were verging on desperation
On all four sides of them, from the
crowded avenues of fashionable traffic
which converge at the approaches to
buckingham Palace there was a jolt
ing, threatening mass of vehicles, hope
lessly stalled.
Broughams bearing royal guests We're
damned into buses; motors smashed
their headlights against hanson cabs;
horses reared: men swore and women
cried. Fear and vexation reigned su-
preme.
Theater-going London, in broughams
or in hansoms, already late, fought or
begged it's way across, and in spite
of the only avenue which leads to the
Kings palace.
In the relief of a more than usually
powerful light a. coachman could be
seen brandishing his Lord Chamber
1ain's card and demanding right of
way.
= From the four corners where all
"a london meets, policemen shouted to
zach other. Then out of the gloom
steady streams of cabs and carriages,
at walking pace, gingerly picked their
way east and west along the great
the most part empty, numbered along
behind. Newsboys twisted their late
evening papers into torches and with
these f1aring tapers led strangers
through the fog.
The congestion was relieved. There
still remained in those streets which
run at right angles to Piccadilly a
thousand or more vehicles, waiting to
cross, but intersection of the main
stream of traffic was impossible.
Many of those in carriages had long
been due at Buckingham Palace. With
their heads craned out in the fog. they
watched the procession of dim lights
which told them that the traffic of
east and west was still passing and
repassing along Piccadilly, barring
their way to the Kings palace. Some
got out and walked.
The fog deepened. Horses and We
hicles found themselves on the pave
ments. The impasse was complete.
All traffic ceased.
Cabmen told their fares to find their
way back as best they could; footmen
took the lamps from the carriages and
tried to pilot their mistresses home
ward. Handsome gowns of great price,
meant only for the Kings court, were
draggled in the mud of side streets,
through which their wearers wandered
in a tiresome search for home. Some
= of the women swore openly before their
servants.
From all this one man derived much
comfort.
For several hours he had been seated
at the open window of house facing
Park Lane, his own house generally
described as Joe Miller's mansion
The electric lights were out. The
fog poured in and gleefully deposited
it's CRIME on tapestries bought at
whimsical prices. Joe Miller was SO
near the street that he could overhear
the impatient threats and fearful Ia
ments of fog-bound society, those
whose wealth and rank could affect al
most everything but the elements.
They were packed like sardines be-
meath his window. Many of the voices
he knew. their imprecations, their Bit
ter denunciations of everything from
coachmen to climate, came up to him
through the fog like the first news of
a strike of virgin gold, Others, be-
sides himself were suffering. The
thought afforded temporary distraction.
Joseph Miller, now a South African
millionaire, formerly a ranch hand In
California and his young wife had
been invited for the first time in their
lives to court that night. When the
Lord Chamberlain's invitation arrived,
Joe Miller had felt a pardonable pride
in achieving what others had declared
to be impossible.
Moreover it was an immense triumph
for his wife who, Miller put 1T, was
.'easily pleased with trif1es." He liked
not so much to please her as to show
that Joe Miller's wife was as good as
any other mans wife. Therefore, Joe
Miller should not only have been at
court that night but in the eyes OF the
world should have been one of the
most self-satisffed of those who had
won royal favor.
Instead, Joe Miller was hanging out
of dark window taking pleasure in
the sorrows of others. Yet the Rand
leader was known on all sides as man
of happy temperament and great SYM
pathies. whose heart and purse were
always at the disposal of those in
trouble.
A door opened in his room. He smut
the window and switched on the light.
A hospital nurse stood at the entrance
to the study.
you may come now, sir.
JJp the broad staircase and through
long passages the nurse and the master
of the house passed into room Whlch
contained a small cot. Beside 1t STOOD
another nurse. In front of the fire two
doctors whispered.
Joe Miller went straight to the cot.
His rough, weather-beaten hands
never moulded into shape by even the
best manicurfsts, clasped nervousiy'
but gently, the tiny fingers of his enid
The big, black head, with scarcely
gray hair in it, bent anxiously over the
boys face. - etr
jack
No answer.
Jack! It's me! Your dad! It's
fardie!''
The child tossed uneasily in his fever
His eyes were open, but apparently ne
saw nothing. The powerful hahuS
frightened almost insensibly upon the
hot little wrists and fingers.
The pressure brought momenIary
consciousness. Two blue eyes looheu
knowingly into those of Joe Miller
Where you been, fardie?" 1t was
\ Quavering little voice.