The Savannah morning news., 1903-08-16
CONE SHALL BE TAKEN"
By w. A. M. GOODE.
Copyright, 1908, by W. A. M. Goode.

The King of England was holding
court.
With an incongruous disregard OF
this event a dense fog lay over Lon
don. The policemen at Hyde Park
Corner We're verging on desperation.
On all four sides of them, from the
crowded avenues of fashionable traf-
fic which converge at the approaches
to Buckingham Palace there was
tolting, threatening mass of vehicles,
hopelessly stalled.
Broughams bearing royal guests
were jammed into buses; motors
smashed their headlights against han
som cabs; horses reared, men swore
and women cried. Fear and vexation
reigned supreme.
Theater-g going London, in broughams
or in hansoms, already late, fought or
begged its way across, and in spite of
the only avenue which leads to the
Kings Palace.
In the relief of more than usual
" powerful light a cOschman could be
seen brandishing his Lord Chamber
lains card and demanding right OF
way.
From the four corners where all
London meets, policemen shouted to
each other. Then out of the gloom
steady streams of cabs and carriages,
at walking space, gingerly picked
their ways east and west along the
great thoroughfare of Piccadilly;
buses, for the most part empty, lum-
bered along behind. Newsboys twisted
their late evening papers into torches
and with these flaring tapers led
strangers through the fog.
The congestion was relieved There
still remained in those streets which
run at right angles to Piccadilly
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
wa tched 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 deep
ened Horses and vehicles found
themselves on the pavements. 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 car
riages and tried to pilot their mis-
tresses homewards. 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 seat
ed at the open window of a house
facing Park Lane; his own house, gen.
orally described as Joe Miller's Man
SION
The electric lights were out. The
fog poured in and gleefully deposited
it's grim on tapestries brought at
whimsical prices. Joe Miller was so
near the street that he could overheaT
the impatient threats and fearful
laments of fog-bound society; those
whose wealth and rank could affect
almost everything but the elements
They were packed like sardines be-
meath his window. Many of the voices
ne knew, their imprecations. their bit
ter denunciations of everything from
coachman 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 distrac-
ton.
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 invitation arrived
Joe Miller had felt a pardonable
pride in achieving what others had
declared TO be the impossible. More
over, it was an immense triumph for
his wife, who, as Miller put it, was
easily pleased with trifles" He
liked not so much to please her as tC
show that Joe Millers wife was as
good as any other mans wife. There.
fore. Joe Miller should mot only have
been at court that night, but in the
eyes of the world should have beer
one of the most self-satisfied of those
who had owson royal favor.
Instead, Joe Miller was hanging Out
of a dark window taking pleasure il
the sorrows of others. Yet the Rant