20
LOVE PROVES
LAW'S DECREES
"This One Shali
Have the Child,"
Savs the Court,
and the Other One
Proceeds to Cao
ture the Offspring
of the Broken
Partnership and
Run Away
With It;
"Let Us Take a Sleigh Ride," He Sug
gested to the Boys.
Tore the Child from the Arms of the
Astonished Woman.
Mrs. Cadiex Seized the Boy and Made
Her Escape in an Auto.
Now York.—Are fhe courts of the
country turning into schools for kip
napers?
There is this newest case, for ex
ample, of Mrs. Maude C. Clare, of No.
20 West Eighty-fourth street. Mother
hunger proved too much for her—she
kidnaped her little boy, though he was
in the custody of another, by order of
the court.
When the learned judge hands down
his decision in the case of Smith vs
Smith, does it. mean that at once tho
divorced father or the divorced moth
er of I he little children must turn kid
naper? Nobody consults the children,
of course.
The wise verdict has been rendered.
Mrs. Smith is free to resume her maid
en nrime of Miss Jones and gets the
custody of the two little Smiths, boy
and girl. There is alimony, a decree
permitting Miss Jones to marry again,
and formal permission for the father
to see his children once in so often.
Arid the very lirst time he does see
them he steals them away—he is a
kidnaper in the eye of the law.
Or it may be the other way. The
decree is Mr. Smith's. The court says
some unkind things about Mrs. Smith,
and the children goto the father for
education and support.
Mother-Love Triumphant.
Hut mere legal verbiage can't de
stroy or root out mother-love. Despite
her failings, Mrs. Smith loves the lit
tle ones she brought into the world.
She is hungry for them; she wants
to take them to her heart again and
hear them whisper "Mother."
liut the court has made its decree.
She must not see them. Under the
law she is not regarded as a fit per
son to bring them up. But she finds
them somehow, and off she runs with
them —she has learned from the court
to be a kidnaper.
Siie knows her lesson well.
Judges may sit and nit, and expound
the law to its last letter, but fathers
and mothers have a different code.
They are learning to kidnap now.
Railway train, automobile, horses,
yachts—all have been used to kidnap
children, it is anything to get the lit
tle ones out of the state where the di
vorce is granted, for then it means
delay—more law and more court de
cisions. Meanwhile the kidnaper has
the children.
And there has never been a convic
tion for this kind of kidnaping. Wrong
as they be, no father or mother who
has stolen back a child —and hundreds
have done so —has ever gone to prison.
More children are kidnaped in the
United States every year by father or
mother than by all those criminals who
steal children for ransoms or revenge.
And the lesson is learned in the di
vorce court.
After a Runaway Marriage.
Mrs. Clarke is the divorced wife of
Capt. Forrest C. Clarke, a civil en
[ gineer employed by the Metropolitan
| Steamship company. Capt. Clarke's
father is a lioston millionaire, and his
wife was Miss Maude Buchanan, of
Dorchester, a suburb of Boston. They
ran away and were married seven
years ago.
A little boy, George, was born, and
tho mother's heart rejoiced. Then
there came rumors of this thing and
that, and it ended in a divorce. Capt.
Clarke had known and liked Dr. Carle
ton C. Kremer while both were stu
dents at Harvard, and husband and
wife would be just the people to take
care of little George. So Dr. and Mrs.
Kremer adopted little George, then a
boy of four, and Surrogate Fitzgerald
signed the formal order.
Dr. Kremer allowed the mother to
see her little boy once a week, and for
a time Mrs. Clarke obeyed strictly the
orders of the court.
Meanwhile Dr. and Mrs. Kremer had
become greatly attached to the boy.
One day when Mrs. Clarke was with
him they caught her stealing out of
the house with the child.
"I can't live without him," she wept;
"so please don't blame me."
Dr. Kremer explained as gently as
he could that she must be more cir
cumspect, even if she did love him, for
tho court, had formally given the little
fellow into his possession. In fact, he
had been rechristened and was then—
and is now—Carleton Clarke Kremer.
Regained Her Boy.
Mrs. Clarke went away, greatly agi
tated. The following Sunday she called
again to see the boy and found that he
was with the physician's sister at the
home of Dr. Kremer's mother. No. 134
West One Hundred and Twelfth street.
She went there in a carriage and wait
ed outside. Then Dr. Kremer's sister
came out with the boy and took a Lex
ington avenue car down to Sixty-fifth
street, where Dr. Kremer lives. Mrs.
Clarke had a carriage up the block.
As the boy got off the car with his
adopted aunt Mrs. Clarke rushed for
ward and literally tore tho child from
the astonished woman. In a jiffy she
had him in the carriage and away sho
whisked. There was a woman friend
with her, who promptly seized Miss
Kremer and gave Mrs. Clarke plenty of
time to escape with her boy.
A few hours later and Mrs. Clarke
was safe on her way to Boston
aboard the steamer Harvard, oddly
enough a vessel belonging to the com
pany in which her divorced husband
is employed.
Mother-love had won the victory—
Mrs. Clarke had her boy despite all
the forms of law. Mrs. Clarke had
learned her kidnaping lesson from tho
divorce court.
Mrs. Hanna's Victory.
Th"n there was tho famous case of
the Haunas. Mrs. Dan R. Manna, wife
of the son of the late Senator Mark
Hanna, was forbidden by the courts
of Ohio to take the children out of
their jurisdiction. For an answer she
promptly took the three boys straight
to New York, hid herself in the Hol
land house, escaped from a little host
of deputy sheriffs and process servers,
and calmly sailed for Europe, despite
all the decrees of the court.
She had learned her lesson. Mother
love rose above the mandates of the
law. And sho has won, too. She has
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 12, 1907.
the three boys back In this country
now and she can take them whore she
pleases, says a writer in the Sunday
World. Mother-love proved too much
for the courts and for Mr. Hanna,
whom sho had divorced and who baa
married twice since.
Both fathor-love and mother-love fig
ured in the disappearance of little
Freddie Krieger, of Chicago, lie was
kidnaped twice, once by his father and
once by his mother, after two courts
had made formal orders in the case.
The boy was the son of Flora and
Bert Krieger. His father got the first
divorce, and though his mother was
supposed to see her son at stated in
tervals the father took him away to
Germany, where he placed the lad,
who was then 12, with friends in Ham
burg to be educated.
Mrs. Krieger married again and be
came Mrs. McDonald. Then, with
plenty of money at her command, sho
resolved to hunt for tho boy to the end
cf the earth, despite all the orders of
the American courts giving him into
her former husband's custody. Tho
trail led to Hanover, and there detec
tives in her employ kidnaped tho boy
for a second time.
Learned Lesson Well.
She hurried the lad to Hamburg,
and there she disappeared—though
sho was divorced, she had obtained
tho custody of her son, no matter what
the court ordered. She had learned
her losson in the divorce court, and
she did business another way.
Theodore Wood, policeman, aud his
wife long ago agreed to disagree. They
lived at No. 1717 Gates avenue, Brook
lyn, and their child, Florence, who
was not consulted in the matter at all,
stayed 011 there with her father.
One day when Policeman Wood was
on post Mrs. Wood stole into the
house and took little Florence away.
Fearful of being followed, she hurried
the girl to Middletown, N. Y. Wood
heard where she had gone and had a
warrant issued. A detective arrested
Mrs. Wood there and brought her back
to Brooklyn.
The case was taken to court. Mrs.
Wood was weeping, after a sleepless
night in her cell. She couldn't see why
a mother should be locked up for tak
ing her own child.
"She stole her!" declared the hus
band.
But, as always happens, Mrs. Wood
wont free. There isn't a law yet that
will send a parent kidnaper to prison.
Madden Defied Court.
John E. Madden, the turfman, long
separated from his wife, boldly kid
naped his two boys, ten and four years
old, rather than let the mother take
them to Europe. Thoy were at school
in Madison, N. J. Madden learned
that the mother intended taking the
boys to Europe, and he made up his
mind that she shouldn't.
So he went out to Madison and vis
ited the boys. It was a snowy day and
the ground was white.
"Let us take a sleigh ride," he said
to the boys.
They were only too glad. A sleigh
was ordered, the boys climbed in and
off they hurried into the snow. But
Madden drove direct to the railway
station, bought tickets for New
York and took the boys with
him. They left that night for
Lexington, Ky., where Madden
has a stock farm, and before Mrs.
Madden knew the truth the children
were out of the jurisdiction of the
courts of New York. But nobody ar
rested the boys' father, even though
he did defy the court.
Mrs. Katherine Cadiex used an auto
mobile to kidnap her son. There had
been the usual family jars and event
ually the nine-year-old boy, son of
George Cadiex, was committed to the
German Odd Fellows' home in Union
port, the Bronx.
One line afternoon an automobile
stopped outside the grounds of the in
stitution and from it stepped a tall,
handsomely dressed woman of 40 with
Mrs. Cook Kidnaped Her Boy from in Front of His Father's Hotel In
Jamaica.
prematurely gray liair. It was Mrs.
Cadiex, and she had learned in ad
vance the routine of the home. She
knew that the children would be play
ing outside at that hour.
Off in the Automobile.
At the ring of the bell the little fel
lows fell in line to march to the re
fectory for supper. When the moment
came Mrs. Cadiex jumped from the car
while the chauffeur kept his hand on
the wheel. She seized the child and
before his - astonished playmates could
raise an alarm she had him in her auto
and was off in a cloud of dust.
She was followed to New York and
arrested at her home, No. 128 West
Thirty-ninth street. Hut the boy was
not to be found.
"I'm going to keep him," she de-
clared, as she was taken to a cell, "no
matter what you do with me. He's
safe now—far away in tho south. No
body shall have him but mo."
And Mrs. Cadiex wont free and she
kept her boy, too, thanks to the auto
mobile.
The three Ward children havo been
kidnaped twice by their father and
two of them rekidnaped by their moth
er—quite a family record!
John E. Ward and his wife have
been separated for nine years. The
three little girls, Marion, Vera and
Cecilia, lived with their mother at No.
C 73 East One Hundred and Seventy
fourth street. One night Mr. Ward
went there, demanded to see his child
ren, and Mrs. Ward let him. There
was a heated argument, and the up
shot of it was that the father took tho
three little daughters away from their
mother and placed them at once in the
convent of the Holy Cross.
Stole Children from Convent.
After three days' search Mrs. Ward
found the girls. Several times she
tried to get at thern but failed. For
days she haunted the neighborhood
of the convent until the long vigil
made her desperate.
Sho saw two of her little ones.
Vera and Cecilia, playing in the yard.
In she ran and the next moment
two were in her arms. Marion wasn't
there and the distracted mother was
afraid to wait. So off she ran with
the two, hatless and coatless.
At once the sisters notified Mr.
Ward, but lie couldn't find them —
they were nut at their mother's home.
The husband got a warrant, but he
couldn't find the children—and tho
| mother has them still.
The records tell of countless other
cases—of how Mrs. James Cook kid
naped her boy in a carriage from right
in front of his father's hotel in Ja
maica; how Anton Head Richards,
grandson of Eugene L. Richards, pro
fessor of mathematics at Yale, was
kidnaped in Chicago by three men
whom Mrs. Richards declared were
emissaries of his father; how Mrs.
Montague Rolls, of Detroit, paid $lO,-
000 to get her boy back after his fa
ther had kidnaped him —there are
many more cases.
Love causes more kidnaping than
money. And the lesson is learned in
the divorce court first.
ONE OF THE VICTIMS.
Old Maid's Interest in the Tale Did
Not Last Long.
By and by the train came along to
where a cyclone had passed two days
before, uprooting trees and leveling
fences and sweeping houses off the
face of the earth, and a young man
who had passed through the tragedy
got. aboard. Of course, we were all
anxious to hear all about it, but a
woman 40 years old, who was evident
ly an old maid, was more anxious than
any of the rest. She got the young
man down beside her and began;
"Now, you must tell me just how it
occurred, and what you thought and
did. Where were you when the cyclone
came?"
"In a farmhouse, ma'am."
"Asleep?"
"No, ma'am. I was sitting up, court
ing a girl."
"Hum! Sitting up at midnight, eh?"
"Yes'm. Sally was sitting on my lap,
and I had my arm around her waist
when we heard a groat roaring and —"
"I don't care to hear any more, sir!"
announced the old maid as she stiffly
drew herself up and hitched along.
"Don't you want to hear how the
house went?"
"No, sir!"
"And how Sally was blown right off
my knees, leaving me there with no
body to hold?"
"No, sir!"
"There came an awful roaring and
one of her shoes was found a mile
away yesterday—how—how—"
And then we dragged him off to the
smoking car to tell the rest, and the
old maid looked out of the window and
wouldn't speak to anyone in the car
for an hour after. —St. Louis Globe-
Democrat.
River Life at Manila.
Manila's distinctive feature among
the cities of the planet is the river life
to bo encountered on the Pasig, the
sluggish stream which flows through
the metropolis of the American "In
dies." In this respect Manila is only
eclipsed by Canton, China, where the
Pearl river floats a city of unknown
population running into the tens of
thousands, says a writer in Leslie's
Weekly. Over 15,000 Filipinos live on
the Pasig, and very few of them ever
come ashore —whole generations livo
and die on the sluggish waters of the
river.
United Service Toast
Lot us drink to the union of men and states,
To the ting of the red, white and blue,
To the khaki and gray ami gold and black,
And the three strong arms of the service," too:
Here's how!
I-et us drink to our brothers that guard the seas,
jsn— The man on the bridge, the man at the f^uiis,
And the gallant marines—to all of these,
i-jjO Columbia's sailing and fighting sons,
_ Here's howl
QS^
J-"*' l us drink to the land tliat we love to serve, Ojiv*
With our best endeavor, our work, our lives;
And drink to the women we serve for love. rffa
To our mothers, sisters, sweethearts and wives:
W Here's how!
I.ft us drink to the honored and gallant dead,
And each foot on earth they have s>amped "U. S."
Let us drain this glass in the soldier's toast
To every army and navy mess:
Here's how!
—New n'ork Times.
j J For the Fairy's Sake 11
j| | By F. H. Lancaster j j
(Copyright, 1907, by Daily Story I'ub. Co.)
Clovis Calhoun was a big bony
man who made his living by buying
land at one price and selling it at a
better one. He had a neat office at
the top of a tall building; and ke|A at
work there a neat office assistant who
had been (rained by long service to
attend strictly anfl alertly lo business.
S'o well had Miss Olive Merry been
trained that it was 110 longer neces
sary for Calhoun to say "1 wish to
dictate." He would merely clear his
throat and lean back in his office chair
and Miss Merry would seize upon pen
cil and pad.
No wonder, then, that on that pleas
ant fall afternoon when he leaned
back in hi 3 chair and began to speak,
Miss Merry took him down in rapid
dots and dashes before she realized
that he had not cleared his throat.
When she began to extend her notes,
she realized it though, and by the
time the notes were typewritten she
was in a state of wonder. What she
had taken down was:
"Cradled In blisses.
Yea, born of your kisses,
Oli. ye lovers that met by the nioon.
She would not have cried
In the darkness and died
If ve had not forgotten so 500r.."
Well might Miss Merry stare in
wide-open wonder at the lines! She
was not familiar with Alfred Noyes—
had never read his "The Flower of Old
Japan;" knew nothing about the fairy's
funeral. The lines seemed to her mys
terious. But what was more mysteri
ous to her than the lines themselves
was that they should have come to her
from the lips of Clovis Calhoun. That
he ever should have read six lines of
poetry seemed unbelievable. Miss
Merry looked at him in covert per
plexity.
Calhoun had sat forward again at
his desk. There was the familiar
notch over his nose where his brows
nipped together in concentration;
there was the stubborn set of the
shaved chin; there was the steady
drive of the pen. And there on her
desk were the six lines of sentiment
and perfect beauty—detached, mys
terious. Who was it that had cried in
the darkness and died?
Miss Merry could make Jothing of
it. Could only goon with the routine
order of the day. But she could not
get over it. Where had he read those
lines and why had he remembered
them?
"She would not have erled
In the darkness and died—"
He had seemed so unconscious that
he was speaking aloud. Did he gc
around thinking that sort of stuff be
hind his dry speech and his land sales?
Miss Merry could not believe it.
When, later in the day, Calhoun
turned to give his assistant some in
structions, she looked at his eyes—
grave and gray they seemed to be for
ever considering assessed values; and
at his hand —big, clean, bony. Imagine
that hand caressing a woman's hair!
And yet, there were the lines. And
before another week had passed over
Miss Merry's perplexed head, other
linos were added unto them.
Calhoun come in from lunch, sat
down at his desk, drev an abstract
toward him and said:
"Cruel mortals tliey say,
Live forever and aye,
And they pray in the dark on their knees;
But the flowers that are fled
And tin- loves that are dead.
What heaven takes pity on these?"
Miss Merry's pencil slipped on the
last words and wept rattling to the
floor. Calhoun turned in sharp arouse:
"I did not mean for you to take that
down," he said. It was his usual tone,
his usual manner. But the voice he
had used unconsciously for the lines
had vibrated to their pathos. Miss
Merry stammered.
"They are very beautiful," she said.
Calhoun made no reply. His bony
face bent over the abstract and his
bony fingers steadily made notes in
the large, accurate hand ho always
wrote. Miss Merry watching him, re
called what Victor Hugo had said—
that devil fish fell in love. She could
not recall that anybody had ever said
that stone statues fell in love.
"And Hie loves that are dead—"
Conceive of any woman being able
to call that big, cold fellow "Clovis."
This was a proposition for which
Olive Merry's legal education had not
prepared her. Let some other woman
see to that! Her business was to
draw his deeds and take down his dic
tation —and she was glad to be well
out of it.
Calhoun reached from his desk and
laid on her table the notes he had
been writing:
Bear her along—singing your song—ten
der 11 nd sweet and low!
Fairies must die! Ask ye not why—ye
that have hurt her 80.
Passing away—
Flower from the spray!
Color and light from the leaf!
Soon, soon will the year
Shed its bloom on her bier
And the dust of its dreams on our grief.'- -
Merry read the thing in aston
ishment, perplexity and suddenly, withi
sympathy. Impervious as he seemedi
to e/erything but land deals, tiomO'
woman had found a way lo hurt hiiu—•-
"and it's a shame."
"Mr. Calhoun," she asked, "did you
wish me to typewrite these lines?"
"No; I wished you to remember
them —and to remember this:
" 'But at each cruel word
Upon earth that is heard,
Each deed of unklndncss or hate.
Some fairy must pass
From the games in the grass
And steal through the terrible Gate.' "
"I am going out on the three-forty
train to look at that swamp land. I
shall not be back before All-Hallow-
Eve. When Ido get in, I shall want to
see you. What is your home address?"
Miss Merry remembered the lines;
worried over them; took them to a.
book store. The dealer in books of
fered her for her further enlighten
ment "A Fairy Funeral Song." But
when she had read the poem, pretty
and pitiful as it was, she could not
understand Clovis Calhoun.
"Unless there are two of him," she
submitted. And baffled, she waited
for All-Hallow-Eve.
Calhoun came with the hour and the
evening, and his big, bony presence
seemed to fill up her small parlor as
he stood before the fire and asked her
dry land questions with his dry land
manner. And with the same tone and'
the same manner he continued his.
catechising with:
"You remembered the lines I left for
you to remember?"
"Yes," Miss Merry told him with
brevity.
"And you remember that this is All-
Hatlow-Eve; the night of all the year
when fairies get in the most good
work? You are, therefore, prepare"
to admit that it would be a cruel
wrong to kill a fairy on this great
night of her life?"
Miss Merry looked at him. He
looked perfectly sane and perfectly
sober. He spoke again, dryly, to her
perplexity:
"You believe that when we are good
and kind, we make the fairies happy;
but that when we are cross and cruel,,
some little fairy has to die?"
And still Olive Merry could only
stare at him.
"I want you to answer me," he told
her.
"I could," she cried helplessly, "if
you were only somebody else."
Calhoun flinched and straightened,,
and Miss Merry jumped up:
"Oh. I didn't mean that. I'm a busi
ness woman. I'm not such an idiot as
to care for anybody—"
Calhoun put his bony hand on her
shoulder:
"But I want you to be such an idiot,
as to care for me. We have worked
together for a long time, and I love
you better than I love land—be carpful
what you say, little girl, or you may
kill a fairy!"
Olive looked into his eyes, caught
her breath, and did the impossible"
thing:
"Clovis," she stammered.
The bis fellow bent his head:
" 'Ah. she was born blithe as the morn
Under an April sky—
Born of the greeting of two lovers meet
ing—' "
His voice died away. But the fairy s .
the fairy .did not die.
For the Unmarried.
The recent annual marriage fair at
Ecaussines, Belgium, resulted in 27
matrimonial engagements, and it is
probable that about a dozen mftre
bachelors will shortly make up their
minds to enter the state of wedlock.
Every year this fair is held, so that
instead of emigrating the young men
may settle down at home. Maidens
and bachelors lunch together, and op
portunities are thus afforded for form
ing acquaintances. The young women
wear their best dresses, and the bach
elors are encouraged by mottoes post
ed in the market place, such as "A
bachelor is only half a man."
Chinese Mine Is Rich.
The Mulio and Kuanying Shan gold:
mines in Heilungkiang, China which:
have beon restored to China by Rus
sia on the repayment of the expenses
incurred by the latter during the last
several years, are said to be still very
rich, and may be again made prosper
ous if sufficient funds are put into
the working of them.