The Birmingham age-herald., 1908-10-18

the worlds master-literature and that probably will continue to hold it's place for many generations to come. The stories of Tartarin are among the best modern examples of that high farce which remains real and human though it's scenario Is wildly imaginative and it's in vention is prodigal.
 4 FTER many years of cap shooting "A and other brilliant exploits in the \ fele, the famous Club of Taras- con abjured the chase and transformed itself into an Alpine Club, after the pat tern of the famous Alpine Club in Lon don.
 It is true that the Tarasconnais did not expatriate themselves to conquer strange and distant mountains, but contented themselves with what they had under foot. and it Is true that the mountains of Tarascon, despite the names of Mount Terrible Mountain of the Moon, and so forth, which the natives applied to the hills, were not more than 800 feet high.
 Still, it was an inspiring sight on a Sunday morning to see the members or the club go forth to dare the ascent fully accoutred with ice ax, knapsack, alpen- stocks and tents. Tartarin the great, Tartarln, the lion killer, Tartarin, who, Of course, was president of the Alpine Club, did not take part Tn the ascents often He confined himself to reading the dra- matic records of the expeditions, thun- dering them forth with emphasis that made the ladies turn pale.
 The envious Costecalde dry, muscular, nervous, wickedly jealous of the great Tartarins fame, always climbed hrst Of all. He ascended one Tarascon alp after the other and planted on the lofty sum nits the flag of the club, the silver spangled Tarasque or dragon. He was only vice president, but he was working so well that evidently Tartarin would De busted st the next election.
 Tartarin was terribly disgusted. He had a great mind to give the whole thing up. But his brave soul soon returned to more heroic resolves.
 There were still three months to come before the next election. He determined to annihilate Costecalde by attempting a grand adventure. He would plant the club flag on the highest summits in Flu rope.
 Secretly he ordered all the books of the Alpine climbers. He filled his brains wlth mystic Alpine terms. At night he dreamed horribly of avalanches and bottomless crevasses. By day he practiced leaplng these terrible crevasses by jumping over the basin in his garden where the water lilies grew. Sometimes he fell in.
 He ordered wonderful boots and ice axes, cooking lamps, waterproof coverings and rope. Having completed all his prep arations. he sat down one morning to the dismal task of making his will. He left something to every one, even to Coste- calde. His requests to the latter were the famous poisoned arrows.
 The will concluded with these touching words:
 T beg my dear Alpinists not to forget their president. l hope they will forgive my mortal enemy as l forgive him, al- though it was he, nevertheless, who has occasioned my death"
 That night the form of Tartarin glided into the shop of Bezuquet, the chemist. He was all prepared for the hazardous tourney and he had stopped on the way
 
 that he might disclose it to the Taras- conians at the moment of success or-in case of one of those fearful catastrophes. Then he departed.
 Embarrassed by his implements, he stabbed people with his alpenstock, mas sacred them with his ice ax, so that he excited not only astonishment but angry remarks. which he could not understand and which pained his candid and affec- tionate nature.
 In the first hotel in Switzerland they told him of a wonderful guide. He is the courier of a Peruvian family said the manager. 'He knows all the mountains of the world-Switzerland, Savoy, the Ty- rol India, South Americal He has done them all. He knows them all by heart. He can tell you all about them!"
 So Tartarin sought the wonderful courier. He found him in a small room, eating by himself and enjoying the best dishes as couriers do. Monsieur" began Tartarin, entering ice ax on shoulder, "excuse me if"
 He stopped in surprise while the courier let his spoon fall.
 Monsieur Tartarin!"
 "Bompard!"
 It was. indeed, Bompard, once mana . ger of the great club of Tarason; a good fellow, but afflicted with vivid imagination which prevented him from uttering a single word of truth, and had gained for him in Taracon the sur name of The Impostor. Designated at Tarascon as an impostor, one can judge what he was! And this was the in- comparable guide, the climber of the Alps, of the Himalayas!
 still, it was an old friend. Tartarin unbosomed himself-told of all the envy, the plot to deprive him of the presidency of the club and the desper- ate resolve he had reached.
 You know mer he cried. ''Y ou know whether I have ever quailed in the quest of the lionl"
 Bompard nodded his head solemnly.
 "Well, mon bon. what the lions could not do, the Alps have donel I am afraid!'
 Don't say that, Tartarin" responded Bompard with emotion. "Histl I will tell you a secret"
 He led Tartarin outside. Night had fallen and the mountains were being illuminated with Bengal fires.
 switzerland. Monsieur Tartarin, began Bompard with the air of one about to unfold a grand secret. "is nothing but a great panorama which is being exploited by a company in Gene