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

| by what miracle, after how many slides and tumbles, Mont Blanc alone can tell. The daring president remained insensible for two days. As soon as he was fit he went to the nearest village, where he heard nothing but the story of the melan- choly catastrophe-another climber killed.
 Tartarin, torn by remorse, did not dare rejoin his friends. lie dared not even send for his clothes. Ragged, with scanty funds, he proceeded nomeward by a roundabout way.
 The distractions Of the Journey be- gun, he tried to pull himself togethe er.t After all, no one had seen him com- init the crime. Nothing could prevent him from telling his own tale. He began to feel better, but when he ap- preached Tarascon, when he saw the fine lines of the Little Alps against the blue sky, all the remorse-yes. and fear of justice-came over him again. He left the train before 1t reached the town and entered it furtively. He heard the bells. peasant on the road told him, in answer to his questions, that they were ringing for 1 a person killed in some hole in the mountains. It smote him to the heart. There was no longer room for doubt. | It was for Bompard that this lugu- | brious carillon of death was carried | by the wind to his guilty earsl But, courage The great soul of the lionkiller returned to him. He would l face the club at once and tell them 1 well, he would tell them the tragic tale of the disaster, without you un- derstand, without-well. without going | Into wearisome details. | Hastily he entered the garden, which | welcomed him like an Eden of safety with its gold fishes and its giant bao- bab in the flower pot and its basin of l and softened him again. But after a few moments of pensive reflection he arose serenly. entered the house and arrayed himself in his best. Bompard had at last ceased to ex- plore the frightfu1 crevasse, which be- came more frightful every time he mentioned it.
 Not once," said he sobbing, "could I reach our president. Nevertheless, could trace his fall by some debris left in the ice."
 As he spoke, he laid on the table a piece of jawbone, some hairs from a. | beard, a piece of waistcoat and a buckle from pair of braces.
 In face of this mute and affecting testi- mony, the transports of grief could be re- strained no longer. The ladies uttered piercing shrieks while the men sobbed. | Some howled. The band struck up a funeral march.
 When he perceived his success, Bom- pard waved his hands over the remains i and ended:
 | There, dear friends and fellow citi- 1 zens, is all could discover of our illus trous and well-beloved president. The remains the glacier will render up to us in 40 years!'
 He was about to explain the theory of the regular progress of glaciers; but the opening of the door interrupted him. Some one entered. Tartarin pale as spirit, stood before himl
 "Tartarinv
 "Bompard"
 And the Tarasconians, so singular, SO facife in the matter of improbable storiesf of audacious falsehoods and quick refuta- \ tions, adjusted themselves so instantly to l the dramatic moment that the arrival l of the man whose fragments lay on the table before them did not create any par ticular astonishment.
 Tt Is misapprehension." said Tar l tarin, also adjusting himself instantly to the situation. With his hand on the shoul- | der of Bompard, he announced quietly:
 T did Mont Blanc on two sides-ascend- ed on one, descended on the other-and this accounts for my disappearance" | He did not mention that he had descend ed mostly on his back. 1 Next Sundays one-page classic will be
 "The Last of the Barons," by Edward Bulwer-Lytton.