The Hawaiian star. [volume] (Honolulu [Oahu]) 1893-1912, 1912-03-16

feeble that the body of it was dashed
with hempen cord to rings screwed
into the floor-she sang. out of a
heart that seemed utterly broken. a
song that was like the cry of lost
soul.
Tears jetted from her eyes and
splashed upon her ample bosom; the
instrument quaked under her vigor-
GUS pumping of the pedals; it was
question whether to laugh or to weep
"a hysterical moment-but the case
she speedily settled by burying her
face in her apron and trumpeting
sonorously; upon which, bursting into
a hilarious ditty, she reiterated with
hoarse "ha, has" that ended in
shrieks of merriment, Wen laugh
the blues away" and we did.
This extraordinary woman, whose
voice, in spite of years of dissipation,
had even to the end a charm of its
own, came to her death in San Fran
cisco at the hands Of a brute who
was living upon the wages she drew
from playing the piano in an under
ground beer hall
Then there was Madame Marie
Duret, who, having outlived the popu-
larity of her once famous Jack Shep-
pard," would doubtless have ended
her days in DreamlanJ chaperoning
the amateurs, and probably Drawing
the footlights herself at intervals, for
she was well preserved But alas!
there was a flaw in the amenities,
and she fed to worse luck. She went
to California, fighting poverty and
paralysis with an energy and good
nature for which she was scarcely re-
warded. A mere handful of friends,
and most of those recent ose, saw her
decently inferred.
And mad, marvellous Walter Mont
gomery, with his sensational suicide
in the first quarter of a honeymoon
He used to ride a prancing horse in
Honolulu, a horse that was a whole
circus in itself, and scatter handfuls
of small coin to and fro just for the
fun of seeing the little natives scram-
BILE for it.
And Madame Biscaccianti-poor
soul! the thorn was never from the
breast of that nightingale. After the
bitterest sorrows mingled with the
brilliantest triumphs, did she, won
der find comfortable obscurity in
Italy a compensation for all her suf-
ferings? At last she sleeps in her
unvisited grave. Sleep well, old
friend!
Proteus himself had, perhaps, the
most uncommon history of all. This
he related one evening when we were
in the happiest mood; there was
panorama dragging it's slow length
along before an audience attracted,
no doubt, as much by the promise of
numerous and costly gifts of a sum
total for out stripping the receipts Of
the house, as by the highly colored
pictorial progress OF Bdnyan's famous
Pilgrim. We had been lounging in
the royal box, and, growing weary of
the entertainment, especially weary
of a barrel-organ that played at the
heels of Christian through all his tri-
h,Y1 10 hA
room, and somehow fell to talking Of
individual progress, and of the pack
We each must carry through storm
and shine. Proteus evidently began
his story without generalization; it
was not a flowing narrative; there
were spurts of revelation interrupted
at intervals by the strains of the
barrel-organ, from which there was
no escape. Later, was able to fol
low the thread of it, joining it here
and there, for he himself had become
interested and he had frequent re
course to a diary which he had steno-
graphed after his own fashion, and
the key of which no one but himself
possessed.
He was of New England parentage,
born in 1926; as a youth was delicate
and effeminate; was gifted with many
accomplishments; sketched well, sang
well, played upon several instru-
ments, and was, withal, an uncommon
linguist. He was a great lover of
nature. His knowledge was varied
and very accurate; he was an authori
ty upon most subjects which interest
ed him at all; was a botanist of re
pute had smatterisg Of many scien
ces, and was correct as far as he
went in all OF them,
He lost his father in infancy, ana
his training was left to tutors he was
highly imaginative dreamer and TO
mantle in the extreme; for this rea,
son, and having never known a faith
er's Will, he left home in his youth
and was for some years a wanderer