Leaning back in his chair, and sending upward clouds of smoke from his
fragrant cigar, Cobb unfolded the paper, and glanced at the title-page.
"Hello! The 'Daily American,'" he said to himself. "Another copy of the
paper I saw in San Francisco."
Opening it, he observed the same peculiarities which had attracted his
attention before, the same headings for the columns, the same want
of regularity in the spacing at the ends of the lines, and the same
scarcity in the variation of the type used. Glancing at the date, he
read:
"'America, September 19, 2,000.' This is the 19th," he mused; "surely
this paper could not have come from San Francisco, or its vicinity,
since its issue." He would ask Hugh, in a moment, to explain it. Hardly
knowing where to commence, he took the first column, and read:
"FROM EUROPE.
"LONDON, 19, 10 D.--Congress adjourned to-day out of respect to
the memory of Albert Victor Guelph, formerly Prince of Wales, and
ex-Senator of the Republic, who died at 2 D., aged eighty-five
years. Albert Victor Guelph was the son of Albert Victor Christian
Edward, the last reigning sovereign of Great Britain, and was
born at Windsor Castle, April 5, 1915. Upon the downfall of the
monarchy, in 1918, the King retired, with his son, to France.
In 1955 Albert Guelph returned to England, by permission of the
government, and became a citizen of the republic. He became a
Senator in 1962, and retired to private life in 1980."
"BERLIN, 19, 8 D.--A great fire is raging at this hour in die
Strasse unter den Linden. At 2 D. smoke was seen issuing from
the rear windows of the Berlin Art Gallery, and at this hour the
building is doomed to destruction. The Berlin Art Gallery was
one of the finest buildings in the city, and was, before the
institution of the United States of Germany, the palace of the
German monarchs. The last Emperor to occupy this palace was William
II. grandson of that great and beloved Emperor, William I. By the
dethronement of William II., in 1903, all the States which had
formed the confederation united under the title of the United
States of Germany."
"ST. PETERSBURG, 19, 9 D.--An imperial ukase has been promulgated
granting self-government to all Siberia. By this ukase the Russian
Empire loses nearly one-half of its territories. The separation is
the outcome of the bitter internal war between the mother country
and the distant colonies. Since the discontinuance of exiling to
Siberia, which was abolished in 1895, soon after the exposé to the
world of the pernicious system and the atrocities practiced by
the officials, and after the general amnesty ukase of that year,
Siberia has grown in wealth and population to such an extent that
self-government comes as a matter of right. Mutual offensive and
defensive alliance only is stipulated."
"PARIS, 19, 4 D.--Le Roi est mort. Vive le Roi! The King, Louis XX.
is dead. Louis Charles Philippe, great-grandson of Louis Philippe
Robert, Duc d'Orleans, and afterward King Louis XVIII., expired
at 23 dial of yesterday, after a prolonged and severe sickness.
Louis Auguste Stanislaus, Dauphin of France, takes the throne as
Louis XXI. Louis Philippe Robert, great-grandfather of Louis XX.,
ascended the throne in 1894, and reigned until 1917, when the
republic was again declared, and Louis XVIII. fled to Naples. After
thirteen years the monarchy was reëstablished, and continued until
1951. For twenty-three years did poor France struggle along without
the pomp and glitter of an imperial rule; but the strain was too
much, and in 1974 the deceased Emperor was summoned to the throne
of his forefathers. He proved himself a good sovereign, giving
France peace and prosperity."
"ROME, 19, 5 D.--The Republic of Italy has sent a telegram of
condolence upon the death of the French King."
"MADRID, 19, 5 D.--The Republic of Granada [Spain and Portugal] has
sent telegrams of sympathy to the new King of the French."
"FROM ASIA.
"PEKING, 18, 22 D.--By a royal edict, Li Hung Tsoi, the Emperor,
has decreed that, 'in view of the fact that the good subjects
of Tien-tze have for ages worn the emblem of a once distasteful
slavery under the Hiong-un, it is now decreed that the ban-ma shall
at once be cut from the head of every one of our male subjects, and
the chang-mor no longer worn.' [Ban-ma is the long braided hair
worn by all Chinese, and called by us 'the queue.' Chang-mor is
long hair.--EDITOR.]"
And then Cobb read on and pondered upon the changes which had taken
place, and which he here saw recorded as newspaper items. England,
once so proud as a kingdom, now a republic; Germany following in the
wake; Spain and Portugal and Italy numbered in the fold. And France!
alas! poor France! up and down, changeable as a weather-vane; who
could expect a stable government? La belle France! to-day a republic;
to-morrow a monarchy!
Turning over the pages of the paper, his eyes lighted up with renewed
interest. Though his interest was great as he read of kingdoms falling
and new ones building up, here was the page that aroused his old-time
enthusiasm. Yes; he was a crank--a crank of the veriest pronounced
type, and he knew it as he folded out the paper in his eagerness to
read:
"BOSTON, 18, 18 D.--The game to-day was a fine exhibition of pitching
and fielding. Neither side could score until in the last innings
'Michael,' that descendant of the only Mike of the nineteenth century,
got his wagon-tongue square against the sphere, and sent it skyward
outside of the field.
"The score:
"Innings--1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
Boston 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1
New York 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
"Errors: none. 2 b. hits: none. 3 b. hits: none. Home run: Michael
Kelley. Batteries: for Boston, Clarkson and 'Ginty' Carroll; for New
York: Keefe and Ewing. Double plays: Boston, 5; New York, 4. Umpire:
Sheridan. Time of game: 1:20."
"The same grand game," he murmured, "is still the national sport. It
could never die! No, never!"
He read on and on. Everything was of interest to him in his new life.
He read of himself, of his arrival in Washington, and of his every act
during the previous day.
Letting the paper fall from his hand, he aroused Hugh from the perusal
of the society columns of the "Washington Reporter" by exclaiming:
"This paper is a great affair, is it not?" nodding toward the paper
which had fallen to the floor by his chair.
"A very newsy paper indeed, Junius," Hugh answered; "in fact, it is the
only paper of general news in the United States."
"How is that? Are there not other newspapers besides this?"
"Oh, plenty. But all others are published for local interests, and
rarely circulate outside of their city or township."
"And you mean to tell me that this paper is the newspaper of the whole
country? It must be quite stale ere it reaches many portions of this
nation."
"Not at all. It is simultaneously printed in over five hundred
different cities, and no copy has to be sent far to reach its
subscriber. For instance: this copy is printed in this city; the copies
for New York, in New York; and those for San Francisco, in that town."
"But the heading reads: 'America, September 19, 2000?'"
"That is the original paper. At America, the type is set and form made
from which copies are taken and reprinted throughout the nation."
"You astonish me; pray explain yourself."
"America," and Hugh wheeled his chair closer to Cobb, "is a small town
on the Central Sea, in the old State of Kentucky. All the news of the
world is telegraphed to this place, and set in form for printing.
Copies of this form are then transmitted by telegraph to every city
which is to reproduce the paper--a very simple operation."
"Yes," dubiously; "very simple, indeed!"
"But let us not discuss the subject now; I will take you to America,
and show you the whole system."
And the subject of the "Daily American" rested.
At this moment Captain Hathaway entered the room, bowing to both of the
gentlemen.
"Good evening, Hugh," he exclaimed, extending his hand. Then to Cobb:
"Good evening, Mr. Cobb."
"Colonel, sir; _Colonel_ Cobb. You forget you are addressing your
superior officer."
As Hugh spoke, he gave the other a severe look, as if to say, "How do
you like it?"
The story of young Hathaway's discourtesy toward Cobb that morning had
been told him.
Captain Hathaway blushed, and turning toward Cobb, said, apologetically:
"I am cognizant of your good fortune and new rank. I congratulate you.
You will pardon my rudeness to you this morning, will you not, Colonel
Cobb? Some time I will explain why I so far forgot myself," and he
dropped his eyes to the floor.
"Captain Hathaway, let it be forgotten," frankly extending his hand.
"Let us be friends, not enemies."
Hathaway grasped the hand and wrung it with a sincere grasp of
friendship. Then, saluting Cobb, he reported to him for orders.
"You are under orders to join your regiment, are you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you wish to go?"
"Well, to tell you the truth, there is every reason for wishing to
remain; but they will not allow me to do so," sadly.
"Who will not?"
"The President; for I have applied to him personally."
"It is rather early for me to go against the wishes of the President,"
and he looked at Hugh; "but you are directed to report to me for
orders, and I must give them to you."
"And I must join." Hathaway spoke in a resigned manner.
"And you will stay in Washington until further orders," looking at him
kindly.
"Colonel, I thank you."
Cobb had made one more friend.
After an hour at the club, the trio parted; Hathaway to his hotel, and
Cobb and Hugh to their rooms.
That night, as he lay upon his bed, Cobb dreamed of Mollie Craft and
her radiant beauty, and of Marie Colchis, his child love. The faces
of both came in visions before him. He seemed translated to a dark
and dreary region, and wandered about sad and alone. No human soul
greeted his approach. Alone and desolate of heart, he pursued his way.
At last, after ages of misery, he came upon a solitary grave in the
desolate waste. Stunted and gnarled, a solitary oak grew at its foot.
A headboard, worn and battered by the elements, lay, torn up from its
setting upon the ground. A rivulet of water, small and silent in its
course, flowed away and sank into the sand.
Moving forward, he read the inscription on the moldy board:
"Junius Cobb and the heart of Marie Colchis."
With a flood of tears, he threw himself upon the mound, and cried aloud
in his anguish:
"O, Marie! Marie! my own, my darling! Oh! come; come to me ere I die!"
A bright light overspread the earth; the desolation seemed to vanish,
and all nature assumed its grandest garb. Rising from the grave, he
beheld an angel approaching, and leading by the hand a woman in robes
of white. Nearer and nearer they drew to his wondering gaze. In the
angel's face he recognized the fair and lovely countenance of Mollie
Craft.
"Look up! Behold!" cried the angelic form.
Its companion's face was raised, and forth she stretched her hands.
With a wild cry of joy, he sprang forward, and was clasped in the arms
of Marie Colchis. He saw her ecstatic beauty, her heavenly eyes, her
form divine, and felt that she was his once more. Then the voice of the
angel, in sweet, harmonious tones, spoke forth the words:
"A bride I bring thee, O sorrowing soul! Those whom God hath made as
man and wife, no chance of fate can set apart. Though years and years
have fled and passed, yet life shall once again renew her heart!"