The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, May 5, 1895, Page 17

/ THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL. SUNDAY, MAY 5, I895. 17 o w.C. MORROW A month had passed since the murder 0(! the rich, miserly and feeble old widow in her lonely cottage near the Park, and | Develle. the pale and scholarly young man | who had killed her for her money, began | to grow easier in mind as the efforts of the police to find the criminal n ed, and | then came altogether to an end. So in-! genious had been the plan of the murder, and so accurate its execution, that only an | accident could have re led him asits author. There was but one point upon which his mind held any uncertainty. whether or not he had even been pected. The unrelaxing watchful which be kept upon his circumstances had revealed what he feared was a veiled police | observation of his movements, beginning about a week after the tragedy; but he reasoned that, making allowance for his anxiety over the frightful dangers which ssed him, he had really no great cause for fear, and could not do better than be open and free in his conduct. It is not supposable that s he, young, finely organized cated, could be in a4 norn mind after the commi a deed, nor, t ch a man as nd well edu- condition of | so atrocious , that his bearing could be perfectly of the kind usunal with bhim. He himself knew this, and that made his effort to appear normal all the more strenuous, and hence the result all the more artificial. It was then that he | made a dishea ~that the finer the or; t under an assumed carelessness r; that the advantage which a .d mind enjoys in the plan- on of a crime is offset by strain which does not nals of a low order; and that in arison with the fear of discovery and nent, the prickings of cons: subsequent ificant value. Itis only itted a crime that one ul and overshadowing after one has con realizes how dre: is the law. He was pondering these matters one th all the dangerous shrewdness nd, when he discovered sitting opposite him at the restaurant table'a fine, y looking old man, who had a dis- The stranger was thin, bent so that he shivered. His air was ge d patient, and he bore his discomfiture without grumbling. “I be to De r pardon, sir,” he remarked *‘but are you a resident of San Francis nd if so can you tell me if the summer evenings are always so cool as thi k “Ye swered Develle, “I live here, and the summer evenings are geueraflyl cool.” “Then you are accustomed to the climate | and enjoy it?” “Yes, and you also shall like it when it has made you stronger.” | Thus they fell into an acquaintanceship, which, it may be guessed, was most we come to the young The stranger | taiked freely and simply about his af- | f ng that he had worn himselfoutas | a private tutor in New York, and that hav- | ing saved a'litile money he had decided to end his days in peace and comfort in the pleasant climate of California; “but | this is my first day here, and, coming as I do from so hot a summer, this cool air makes me shiver.” { They met often at the restaurant, and under the influence of the stranger’s | gentle, half-timid. but thoroughly whole- | some influence, the young man advanced iily in the task of self-mastery. , when the stranger (whose | name was Enderlin) was calling on him, they fell into a discussion off strange and and both became deeply in- sted, as sensitive persons generally do ing over matters of that kind. Pres- Develle told the following story: “There is a legend in my family (which | ide is French) that ru : Along time ago a certain m whom I am descended,. was a clockmaker in Toulon. In his leisure momen e worked upon a clock that was to be his own and that should be handed down to his descendants. It required twenty years of patient labor and contriv- ing at odd times to produce this master- | piece, for a wonderful id to have been. w mechanism it is Not long after he had finished it and found that it had fulfilled all his hopes in prov- ing to be the noblest and most accurate timepiece that had ever been constructed, he was so filled with pride that he called together all the members of the family of | Deyelle to see the clock and celebrate it with a feast. In the speech which he made he recounted the infinite pains and labor which he had employed to produce it, and with great solemnity announced that it was to perpetuate the name of Develle, the clockmaker of Toulon, and as it was made 8o as to be practically indestructible it should be handed down from father to son and kept in the possession of the Develles as long as the name should persist on the earth. ‘For,’ he explained, ‘my soul shall go into this clock when I die, and the heri- tage which I leave shall stand guard over the integrity of my name. Let every man of the name of Develle who shall come after me regard this timepiece as his friend and mentor, and cherish it as a possession which heaven has yielded up for his good.’ Upon concluding these words the old clockmaker fell dead.” Mr. Enderlin listened to this story with the sharpest interest, and his eyes were wide and bright, like those of a child hear- ing about ghosts. | “Well, is that all?”” he asked, betraying disappointment. ; there are other things to come. It is related that at the moment when he died the wonderful clock gave evidence of violent perturbation; the wheels whirred ominously and the hands flew wildly round the dial; then the mechanism settled, the bands stopped at the proper place and the clock proceeded steadily and soberly to observe its function.” At this juncture the young man, who had become much excited over his own narration, suddenly ceased; then essayed a word, stammered, turned pale and broke down miserably. “Well?”” almost gasped his listener, see- ing easily that some terrible disclosure was being withheld, and therefore all the more cager to hear it. “‘There is something else —1I know—I know there is] Tell me!” l)c\'el_le was undergoing a fearful strug- gle, which, we can readily imagine, was a swift analysis of his own' position anda contemplation of Pagsible dangers which he v'vas_ inviting, Yet, if he should stop now, when it was clear that he had more -to tell, what might the stranger imagine? bold and open manner, to the end of dis- couraging any suspicion that he might have something to conceal. He had been wholly truthful in detailing the fantastic legend which had been handed down to him, and he quickly realized that as the bers of the great family to which he be- longed, any hesitation on his part now might induce an inquiry which would dis- cover what he had withheld, and that in turn might cause suspicion to glance his way. So, after a merry laugh and a re- story was probably known to all the mem- | transformed from a gentle, timid char- acter into a man of a remarkably bard will. Develle regarded him with wonder, and perhaps a faint alarm, “I don’t know,’”” he answered, in a man- ner intended to be free and final. “But you do know or have heard. Tell meY” Develle laughed again, but by no means mirthfully. «If you will have it,’”’ he said, ‘‘the story goes thus: One of the Develles to whom the clock had descended was afflicted with a brood of vicious sons who indulged in all manner of crimes. The authorities knew the legend of the clock, and were employ- ing its testimony so_effectively in convict- ing the sons by terrifying them into a con- fession that the owner secretly disposed of it to an Arabian peddler who happened to be passing through Toulon.” «+And so it was lost to the family?” “Yes: and forever, let us hope.” | “Why that hope?” quickly snapped Mr. Enderlin. | Develle appeared embarrassed and an- | noyed and made no response. Worst of | all, he was alarmed upon discovering that | he lacked the courage to look the strange | old man in the eyes, which he felt were burning holes through his head. Mr. En- | derlin ignored his failure to answer that | question and propounded another: | “Wasany description of the clock handed | down in the legend 2"’ “None whatever. But, my dear sir, you thing really stopped at two minutes nastl 6, and I was only dreaming. I did not ex- pect it to keep any sort of time, as you say, but I did not buy it for that purpose. I found it in the darkest corner of a junk- shop, where it had lain for many years. It was covered with dust, but a glance con- vinced me that it was a genuine antique and a great prize. Iopened it, and to my amazement discovered it to be the most exquisite piece of workmanship that I had ever seen from a clockmaker’s hands; and I have seen most of the finest old clocks in he world. I bought it for $3, and I would not take $10,000 for it.” Mr. Enderlin abruptly paused in his rapid and excited speech, listened a moment, and then bounded to the mantel. “Why, upon my word, it is running !"” he exclaimed in amazement. No sooner had he uttered the words than the clock began to strike. He stepped back, eyes wide and bright, and breath- lessly watched the clock. After it had sol- emnly struck 6, the silence in the room was profound, and an oppressive sense of an impending catastrophe seemed to sit upon the two men, as they stood im- movable and watching the clock. Slowly the pendulum swung to and fro, and the ominous ticking fell like blows en the brain. Steadily the minute hand crept backward. This discovery seemed to have worked it~ mark that he had never yet failed to stop | ; car sir, at that particular place in telling the story, | seem to be unduly exercised over this idle and had never been disappointed in his | tale, which on its very face is the silliest ence e chastisement have an | “‘Here is the strange part of the story: | ion that the listener’s curiosity expec would be intensely whetted by the pause | he proceeded : “Weil, of course it was agreed that Providence, appreciating the nobility of my ancestor's purpose, forwarded it by transferring the clockmaker's soul, there in the presence of witnesses, from his worn- out body to the wonderful clock, which | of romances. Let us drop the subject.” “Certainly, certainly,” agreed Mr. En- | derlin with surprising alacrity; and then, | withan apparent_effort to pull himself to- | gether, he as quickly subsided into his | former gentleness as he had emerged from | it. With the admirable address of a wise and sympathetic man he sought to make | himself as agreeable as possible, but in | “WELL, IF A MURDER, THEN THE CLOCK WOULD RUN BACKWARD. would outlast many generations of men. And the soul, being thus more permanently and efficiently housed, must possess subtler perceptions than before. Hence its pur- pose as a guide and mentor for the family of Develle would be better served. *It is related that ever afterward this clock, while ordinarily performing its humbler duty of time-keeping with in- fallible regularity, would go awry in its ac- counting if any member of the family did an evil thing, and that the degree of its irregularity would be governed by the magnitude of the wrong; a condition being that the malefactor should be brougnt into its presence. Thus, ifa lie was told the clock would lose time; if a theft was com- mitted it would stop, but start again of its own accord if restitution was made; ifa robbery, it would stop and then whirr | ominously; if a —" “Well, if a murder,” eagerly suggested spit of that effort a certain constraint sat between the two men during the remain- | der of the evening. Develle did not sleep well that night, and when he dozed, a clock that per- sistently ran backward invaded his peace. The next day he reasoned that despite the fact of a vague dislike of Mr. Enderlin which had been born within him, it was wise that he should not avoid a continu- ance of the friendly relation. This was in the pursuit of his policy to do those things which he liked least to do, when there was the smallest chance that his failure to do them might be construed against him. He | always found Mr. Enderlin pleasant and | friendly, and was grateful that the sub- | ject of clocks was not again brought up. | One day Mr. Enderlin said: “I want you to come to my room this evening.” Develle readily agreed. “MR. ENDERLIN OBSERVED THE TERRIBLE STRUGGLE PROCEED- ING BEFORE HIM.” the elderly man when Develle paused and choked. “Well, if a murder,” pursued Develle, very white, but with a sudden dash of spirit and indifference, “if a murder, then the clock would run backward.” “Wonderful !” exclaimed Mr. Enderlin; “and all the more interesting to me, for— please do not laugh when I confess it—my one great passion in life is the collection of curious clocks.” The younger man smiled faintly and was about to turn the talk into some other channel, when his companion, with a sud- den and alarming eagerness, while his eyes blazed with a strange light that was almost'fierce and menacing, clutched his arm and demanded: «“What became of that clock? Where isit?"’ Develle threw back his head and laughed with all the assumed merriment possible to his condition. But this in nowise dis- concerted or discouraged his inquisitor, who seemed quite suddenly, under the It had been his policy thus far to wear a They had passed a quiet evening there, and Develle was preparing to leave, when Mr. Enderlin, while politely pressing him toremain and protesting that it was yet early, glanced at a queer old clock on the mantel, half hidden by some dried grasses resting in a vase, and exclaimed in aston- ishment: “Why, it is only two minutes past 6 o’clock!” Develle’s glance followed Mr. Enderlin’s and saw that the hands of the antique timepiece indicated two minutes past 6. He smiled and said: “That is one of your curios,eh? You surely do not expect so antediluvian a thing as that to keep any time at all.” “Well, T have had it two days now, and it has been keeping excellent time until to- night. Why, I remember that the hands pointed to 8 o’clock when you came in! Let me see.” He produced and 1 opened his watch and then exclaimed: “Yes, it is now 10 o'clock. Of course, I was mistsken when I thought it pressuge of his peeulias bent, to Rave been | struck 8 just before you arrived. The self into Mr. Enderlin’s mind with ex- treme slowness, but when it did, he uttered a suppressed exclamation and suddenly turned a strange, fierce, hard look upon Develle. Up to this moment the wretched young man had been gazing at the clock with glassy eyes shining strangely out of a pal- lid, wrinkled face; and now, when that burning, penetrating look, which already, ut another time, had filled him with dread, flashed upon him with even more terrify- ing effect than before, a rigor shook him from end to end. Never till that moment had fear laid so formidable a weight upon him, and never till that awful instant had there been any strain upon his will to com- pare in violence with this. It wasnot possi- ble for him now to order his understand- ing or weigh his peril. The fine, strong and intricately woven bonds with which his brain had bound up his secret, whose clamorings and strain- 1ngs for freedom had not prevailed against its prison, were now snapping and twisting with alarming rapidity, and the struggling prisoner was fiercely fighting its way to liberty. Mr. Enderlin, standing erect, motion- less and threatening, observed the terrible struggle proceeding before him. Then, suddenly, after another glance at the clock to reassure himself that the hands were steadily moving backward, he seized Develle by the arm, dragged him to the mantel. tore open the door of the ciock, briskly rubbed with his thnmb a dim silver plate soldered to the bronze case back of the pendulum and brought to plain view these two words ornately en- graved in old French text: DEVELLE: TOULON. A spasmodic action of the young man's throat muscles made him gasp and strangle, and a profuse perspiration trickled down nis face, which had now changed from pallor to an apoplectic hue. The fierce, brilliant, burning gaze of the old man was melting, untwisting and un- binding the fine strong bonds that had held his secret so securely; and then a deep, strange voice, issuing seemingly from the throat of no living man, charged him specifically with his crime. Then went the bonds and all his cohe- sion wholly to pieces and asunder. He sank to the.fleor a miserable, disorganized heap; and his secret, freed of its bondage, issued brokenly and hysterically through his sobbing voice in a wretched confession. “Gentlemen,” said Mr. Enderlin, ad- dressing two uniformed policemen, who stood at the curtained opening of a closet behind them, “you have heard his con- fession ?"’ “Yes, Captain Leonard,” responded one of them, who held a pencil and notebook in his hand, “and have taken it down word for word.” “Then take him to the prison, and send me a hack, as I want to go home. To-mor- row take this clock to Wagner, the clock- maker, with my thanks, and tell him that his ingenuity in soldering on the plate and in making the hands run backward worked to a charm.” [Copyrighted, 1895, b; BUNKER HILL DAY, v the anthor.] Proposed Celebration by the Ancient Order of Foresters—A Legal Holiday. The Bunker Hill Association met last evening, Williamy G. Badger presiding. Mr. Falconer, grand secretary of the An- cient Order of Foresters, was present, and stated that the following resolution was being prepared to be presented at the grand session: of their order to be held in this city this month: That the Ancient Order of Foresters of the Pacific Slope, representing 150 courts, shall adopt June 17 as their annual dav, and shall com- | memorate it with exercises peculiar to the | sacredness and historic value of the same. e o STILL SEEK ORGANIZATION. Actresses Make Another Attempt to Form a Union. A meeting was held by the actresses of this City Thursday afternoon in the par- lors of the Langham Hotel to decide upon the steps to be taken toward organization. They were divided in opinion. Ipvis or THE JFiELDS. BY A NATURAL: IST AT LARGE. A BIRD IN THE BUSH. Who was it that said a bird in the| hand is worth two in the bush? No one ever made a greater mistake. T spent yesterday under a bush, and when I issued from my leafy retreat I| knew that this oft-repeated saying is merely a rusty, moth-eaten old bit of yn- wisdom that should long ago have been relegated to our intellectual lumber-room. The man who originated it probably never | saw a bird in the bush. Such cocksure knowledge as his saying displays is never | born of anything but ignorance. i My bush was a great- branching willow | tree. Its long, drooping plumes of foliage | hung down all around me, making a tent of green wherein might have been spread a banquet for a prince. A convenient fork in the trunk gave me a delightful seat. At my feet ran a tiny thread of a | stream, almost hidden by a thick growth of cressand water weeds. ‘Through the | rain of willow branches I could see the low hills’ ranges” and San Francisco on her heights across the bay. | I had decided to spend the day with my little brothers of the air, and apparently they very soon got wind of the fact, and | hastened to perform the offices of hos- pitality. The feathered throng first sent a tiny messenger to take note of me, and report | whether I was likely todo harm. This | messenger wasa humming-bird, a greenish- | hronze%ollow, who paused for an_instant, | beating his wings in midair, to reconnoiter. He must have concluded that I was with- out guile, for he presently resumed his in- sect chasing, flying completely around me | as I sat motionless and delighted, watch- | ing him. After awhile he perched upon a | little twig, close beside me, and began to sing. It was surely the queerest little | wiry noise that ever bird uttered. I could ¢ A Bird in the Bush.” only catch, now and then, a faint, shrill sound like the highest, most atténuated note of a violin. But the tiny chap made as much fuss over the performance as though he had | been a nightingale. He swelled out his little throat, ruffled his feathers, flirted his tail and nearly fell off the twig in his musical ecstacy. Then he flew away to | make his report. et California is particularly rich in this ‘varicty of bird. There is only one hum- ming-bird found east of the Rocky Moun- tains, while out here we have eight differ- ent representatives of the family. During my stay under the tree I had a visit from a rufus hummer, the brilliant little ruby- throat, who is more like a jewel than a bird. . He did not come until afternoon, how- ever. When the first one, the ‘‘broad- tailed” humming-bird, had gone, I had a much larger visitor. This was a stranger, all the way from Oregon. One fascinating feature of bird study is that you never know what moment you may be called upon to entertain distingnished strangers from any part of the continent. The study | varies, too, through the year. There are few, if any, varieties of birds among my trees that were here six weeks ago. :The winter birds have all. gone to the moun- tains, to Washington, Oregon and British Columbia. They will be back when sum- mer is over, and my gay-colored, fair- weather visitors will all depart. This particular Oregonianis a very hand- some bird. It is the Oregon towhee, a member of the sparrow family, and to the evolutionists of great interest because of the modifications it has undergone in color- ing from the common striped ancestor of this great tribe. The Oregon towhee is nearly the size of a robin. He has a shin- ing black head and shoulders, with black and white wings, a very long tail and bright red sides. His song is a few low notes and a call that has earned for him the name of Western catbird. He has a native cousin, the Californian towhee, sometimes called the ground robin. or brown finch. The Californian bird is Quakerisl: in his dress, with just a faint dash of red on the under tail-coverts. The next bird in my bush was a singer indeed. I heard him sing before 1 saw | him, and it needed but a glance at his | crimson head to recognize the burion—the naughty little house-finch, who is in mis- chief from morning until night. I sus- pected this to have been the very chap I discovered the day before pulling the clothesline to pieces to get lining material for his nest, but I forgave him for the sake of his sweet song. é While I was listening to the finch a olden-crowned - warbler ‘came dashing gown into my greenery. He was an im- petuous creature, and was off again in a minute to the roof of the wagon shed. Here a passion-vine was being trained by All wanted a separate organization, but most of those present thought the number of members would be so small as to lessen the effectiveness as the association. The main division came upon the point as to whether they should pe a branch of the Actors’ Association of America, with a man at the head, or become an integral part of the Id;resent lodge. A long discussion ensued. Some one moved that they adjourn till it could be learned whether they would be received by the male branch of the association, This was carried. Another meeting will be held next week. In the meanwhile the ladies hope to be able to convince the members of the association that they will be amply repaid for enforced politeness and abstinence from profanity and tobacco by the charms that the presence of the ladies would add to their meetings. OFF FOR YAQUINA BAY, The Steamer Farallon Sails on Her Maiden Trip to Oregon. The steamer Farallon sailed yesterday afternoon on her maiden trip to Yaquina Bay with a fair passenger list and some 300 tons of freight. The Farallon has earned quite a name as a ‘“rate-cutter’” along the coast, and in this new venture will keep up the reputation she had while running to Puget Sound. : Passengers will be landed in Portland via Yaquina Bay for $12 first class, while freight rates by this steamer are $3 less per ton than over the old lines. Every eight days the steamer will sail from Mis- sion-street pier. Her owners expect to se- cure sufficient business from the Eastern Oregon country to warrant the improve- ment of the service. ——————— The iron crown worn by the King of Roumania is made from metal taken from Turkish cannon captured at Plevna in 1877. strings up the side of the wail. The warbler espied these strings and was soon having high frolic with them. He would seize ne in each claw and, head downward, swing back and forth in a perfect frenzy of delight. He hung, first by one claw, then by the other, all' the time keeping up an inferrupted ‘melody, as though ~he could not stop singing, even for his play. By und by a lady of his own kind alighted upon a near-by scrub-oak bush. Instantly our warbler was at present arms. Sucia righting of himself! Such a preening of wings and ruffled plumage, and then our gay young bachelor darted over to the scrub-oak bush, quite evidently a-wooing gone. He spread his wings and tail, sing- ing softly the while, and fluttered about the sober little lady, a!l a-quiver with anxiety. She, meantime, was oonsidering him quite seriously.” He was brave to lool upon, but could she take him as a mate? Could she trust him to hunt and fend for her, and protect her through the nesting mysteries of maternity. X 1 cannot tell how she was guided in the matter. Perhaps she had witnessed the swinging performance, and deemed him altogether too light-minded a bird to as- sume family cares. At all events, with a final eloquent flirt of the tail, she presently flew away. He sat disconsolate for a min- ute and then darted after her. Ido not doubt but that he gressed his suit further on some other bush. 3 But Ispeedily forgot all about him and threes, a constant procession of birds. There were song sparrows and white- capped warblers, wrens, house sparrows and the pretty, vellow summer warblers, goldfinches, and a single beautiful crim- son tanager, who stayed fora long time, flitting from branch to branch. A black- headed grosb: stopped for amomentand passed a musical time of day, on his way up the hill to dine in my neighbor’s pine trees. All the morning a pair of demure little house wrens had been flitting back and forth between the tree and a patch of tall yellow thistles that grew beside the stream. hey were evidently lining their nests with the soft white down of the thistle seeds. | Despite the fact that they flew boldly in and out before me I could not find their nest for a long time. Atlast I discovered it. Far up in the tree wasa limb that at some time or other had received a terrible wound. Some sharp weapon had pene- trated to the very heart oF the wood, cut- ting a deep, wide gash. In time the pro- cess of healing curled the new bark in a smooth ring afiaround the wound, making a dreadful scar. In the hollow thusformed | the wrens were building, the kindly tree affording them in the depth of its wounded heart a safe shelter. Two birds that I gladly welcomed to my bush were bluebirds. These are rather rare birds hereabouts, but they are sweet singers. and well worth cultivating. Like their Eastern cousins, they are quick to take advantage of bird boxes, and 1f these are put out for them they can readily be coaxed to build in them. A whole bevy of black-capped warblers flew in upon me at_one time, and settled down, in no way disconcerted hy my pres- ence. Once there wasa great twitter and commotion outside, and fully a score of irds fled for shelter to the friendly tree. Looking upward I spied a sparrow hawk flying high above us. He got no game in that quarter, though, and soon faded away to a mere speck in the high air. I remained under my bush from early in the forenoon until long past luncheon- time, and could not begin to keep count of the birds I saw there. I learned long be- fore I left that a bird in the bush is worth many in the hand. There were one or two tors that I failed to recognize, and this fact really de- tracted from my pleasure. Itisa delight to know the name even of & passing bird— to hail him by it. And the birds are so well worth knowing. There is something in the human soul that nothing but the sight or thought of a bird can touch. That little feathered bunch with the ruby throat is hardly bigger than my thumb, but he is far more intensely alive than I am. His blood is warmer. His heart beats faster and his respiration is quicker. He has emotions and sensations of which I know nothing—that I can never know. And he can fly. We ought to have our Bird day in Cali- fornia, as we have Arbor da%;. ‘We cannot have too many days in which we go and visit Mother Nature. Our children should be taught to know and name and love the birds. They will be a happier, freer, less sordid and world-serving generation for the knowledge. It would do us all good to know that not always does the value ofa man’s life consist in the abundance of things which he hath; that a bird in the hand is not worth two in the bush. JO AT 0LD 5T, WARYS, One Hundred and Fifty-Five Children Confirmed in the Church. Archbishop Riordan Presided and Preached the Confirmation Sermon, 0ld St. Mary’s Church on the Mission road was the scene of impressive confirma- tion ceremonies yesterday. One hundred and fifty-five boys and girls renewed their vows of fidelity to the faith of the Catholic church and were blessed by his Grace Archbishop Riordan. The Archbishop presided in the sanctu- ary assisted by Rev. Father Brady, pastor of the parish, and Rev. Father Lynch, pas- tor of St. James Charch. Mass was begun at 10 A. M. The cele- brant was Rev. J. B. Hannigan of St. Mary’s Cathedral, the latest accession to the ranks of the clergy from the alumni of St. Mary’s College. Rev. John E. Cottle was deacon, Reyv. M. D. Cottle sub-deacon and Rev. P. E. Mulligan master of cere- monies. The choir was composed of students in the college. The singing was exceiient, nr(lcularfy the ‘“Ave Maria’ sung by Mr. Jaunet in his remarkable soprano voice. At the end of the mass his Grace the Archbishop preached a sermon, taking as atext: ‘“You have not chosen me. but I have chosen you. I have appointed you to go and bring fruit, and your fruit shall remain.” The speaker drew a graphic picture of Christ as he was giving his com- mand to the apostles. In the course of his remarks the Archbishop said: “The same command has been given to us that we, too, go forth and bring in fruits. This we can do only by living lives of virtue, by exemplifying in_our conduct the teachings of Christ. We must not only preach virtue, we must act virtue.” One of the most pleasing features of the ceremonies was the singing in concert of sacred hymns by the children. The rea- son why the ceremony was held yesterday instead of Sunday was that the day was the Feast of John the Baptist de la Salle; founder. of the Order of Brothers of Christ- ian Schools. ——————— A WIFE'S TROUBLE. An Upholsterer Deserts His Mate and Five Children. Mrs. Henry O. Fensterbusch of 1115 Twenty-fourth street mourns the loss of her husband, who desertedher and five smail children some time ago. Fensterbusch is at Stewarts Point, Sonoma County, where he is working as a laborer. Mrs. Fensterbusch has applied to the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Chil- dren for relief. She informed Secretary McComb that her husband was an uphols- terer by trade, and that he was doing well when he deserted his family. She said he spent most of his time in saloons, playing cards and drinking to excess. Secretary McComb has written to Fens- terbusch in the hoge of recalling him to a sense of his duty. If thatfails the law will be brought to bear upon his case. Story of Mrs. Paran Stevens. Nothing could illustrate the proud spirit, high breeding and polished wit of the late Mrs. Paran Stevens more forcibly than Mr. Bill Travers’ account of what happened in a Fifth-avenue stnfif.one day when he was riding up town, as he related it one even- ing to a friend atthe Union Club. The stage was lumbering along Fifth avenue, full of men, and Trayers was the last man in the stage on the right nextto the door. The stage stopped and Mrs. Stevens got in and walked “majestically up to about the middle. Not a man moved or offered his seat. She paused for a few momentsand then turned facing to the left and began to his moving, for with a great rush and whirring of wings there suddenly flamed about my bush half a dozen orioles; a blaze of orange and white and sun reflect- ing black. Tgey ‘perched upon the highest boughs, and in an instant the itree was alive with melody. How they did sing,s| these sunbeams of birds! Whoever heard them could neyer say, again, that we have 1o singing birds in California. After the orioles had departed there came to my bush, singly, nd'by twos and count. “One, two, three, four, five, six’’; then ‘she turned to the right and con- tinued, pointing her finger at each man, ‘“‘seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve hogs!” Travers instantly got up, offered his seat, and said in his peculiarly droll way: ‘‘And, and one s-s-s-sow.”’-—~Wash- ington Post. . g The total amount of goid in circulation at the gsum time is estimated at about £1,070,000,000, weighing altogether 375 tons. HENLEY'S GELERY FOR Slee)- lessness, [ndi- - gestion, Bilious- - Dess,