The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, May 17, 1896, Page 17

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, MAY 17, 1896 17 ASTER JOHN LANDOR vears old and every incha wore & debonair manner strolled down Market his nurse. He carri head becomingly high, as as he street was perfectly in harmony with the stocratic circumstances of hi head were wide open to every de life in the moving street. That is why he happened to observe that a young woman started in dazed surprise when she met him, ht her breath | with staring eyes, open mouth and ac tain hungry eagerness of face and attitn stood and gazed at him as ne passed non c tly on. Beinga yme boy and accustomed to the he did not deign to wonder at the un played by the be the nurse, she had seen nothi ing that comfortable order of that passes for valuable patience in the conduct of children’s nurses. The startled woman, known in vari cities as Mille. Clarisse Chevalier, likely nt dis- ht spend the day and night with your mother in Oakland she asked me to vand you this money. Come, little man, your mamma is waiting. Good-by, Mary.” Her manner was so breezy, confident 1 eping that she carried the assault difficuity. Mary, gladdened with prospect of a long holiday and with a piece of silver in her hand, went and unsuspectingly on her way, n, likely delighted, way , with a new sen- the role of an exceptionally dashi voman, permitted her hand vo seize bi h rather a too severe pressure and himself to be led away in he was too youthful and inex- to observe t her elegant re 100 pronouncealy fashion- clothes we able, th her iips and cheeks t, and tbatin her face n hardness quite ed set to which he Possibly had he noticed would ve made the he more attrac hi he color of and the free grace of her move- nd the handsome face and tall B re might have made a older man than he. As 3 ly along, hurrying to es- capr into a quiet street, Master John was ly her dash and swing were capti- ‘1 again took his pretty cheeks between her hands and again each gazed steadily into the eyes of tiie other. You have brown eyes, John,” she said very softiy and genily and sadly, “‘and | your father has gray eyes, has he not?"’ ¥eR.y. “*And your mother has blue eyes?’ > g, I fink so.” “Do you like my black eyes, John?" Untortunately, at that moment her Iways brilliant and sparkling, held ain eager fire that filled the lad with | uneasiness, 0,” he answered; s eyes.”” 3ut, John,” she pleaded, clutching bim with unconscious force and devour- his face with her insatiable eye: d love me very much, couldn’t you? You do love me a little now, John, don’t you?” No!” he exclaimed, 1mpatiently. *I1 jus’ love my muvver. Where is she? I | want her.”” With that he pushed her away. She flung herself upon the floof and wept in a transport of anguish, while he stood Jooking on in surprise and alarm, his fine breeding giving him nevertheless a cool, hali-pitying, half-scornful self-pos- session. z Her agony was of short duration, and she rose smiling and brilliant again. Her | tears and handkerchief had long ago left | her face white, even pallid; but now a bright flush was rising and it lent a special charm to her bold, showy beauty. She | | bustied about, chatting, laughing,” sing- | ing—employing every artifice to hold the | boy’s attention and avoiding any mention of his mother. Master John was too wise to fall under i these lures. He had become suspicious, | and was now obdurate and ugly. | She flew at him and caught him angrily y the arms. Bal ! she cried, “that is the damned father in you, and you have that same cold | | sneering mouth of his that I hate worse | | than hell!”” and she flung the child from her and stood glaring at him, trembiing | | and terrible. | But for a moment only. She broke into a laughter that was half sobbing and | wholly hysterical, and before his trembling lips could open for sobs which he was try ing so manfully to suppress she was trans- formed into a cyclone of jollity and diver- | sions. He regarded her with a painful | mixture of wonder, fear and admiration as | she rattled off thrilling stories of giants and fairies, and he relaxed when she | wheedled him to her side for the close in- | spection of beautiful picture books, while | she petted and soothed him and stole an | arm around him and pressed him tenderly | to her breast. And the kisses that fell so gently on his hair and forehead and cheek, and the tender caresses of her hand as it passed from his bair to his neck and to his face and hands, and the overwhelming flood of aifection that was poured out upon him | from her eyes and voice and spirit, all led him for a time away from the central | thought that lay deep "and strong within him. Lacking in the finer skill of the art and being guided largely by an overmastering | affection that must develop what tactit could and no design whatever, the wretched woman carried her part too far. Suddenly the former distrust and alarm returned to Master John’s face and he im- | periously demanded: “I like my muv- A Handsome Young Woman, Showily Dressed, Started in Surprise Upon Meeting Master John. R NS 2 - ~ae Ny { | { would have fainted had not a gentleman | who noted her distress roused her witha proffer of assistance. “No!” she replied sharply and ungra- ciously, her whole manner instantly changing to defiance and self-control and her brilliant black eves flashing with im- | patience and resentment. She strode on, turned to look at a shop display in a win- dow, cast a furtive glance in the direction which the boy and his nurse had taken, and then, with a brave show of indiffe: ence, began to follow. It would have been evident to & very close observer that she was suffering. The drawn mouth corners, the dilated nostrils, the quick breathing, the eager, burning eyes and a certain ir- regularity of step all indicated distress. “Why wait?”” was what she whispered to herself. “I know as much now as I can learn to-morrow. The giri is as great a fool to-day as she will be next week. Why not make the dash now? Oh, how beautiful he is! What strong little legs! What a manly walk! And his| wonderiul brown eyes and golden-brown | curls—I can’t wait another day. They | don’t know I'm in town—or even alive. I | don’t care; I don’t care what comes of it— | I must have him now—now, this minute! | O God, give me strength — my heart is | bursting " With that she gathered herselt up, and | with eyes of & wonderful luster plunged | boldly into her task. She presently over- | took the boy and his nurse, and with a natural, easy and pleasant manner said to the girl: “Oh, I beg pardon! You are Mary,I believe—the Landors’ nurse. Mrs. Lan- dor passed me 2 moment =go looking for you, and when I told her 1 had seen you | the street she asked me to fetch the | little boy to her. She is waiting back there. You know she and I are old iriends, but I haven’t seen her fora long time. Oh, “s way, she said you | rooms, rather proud to see that the men whom they met stared at his conductor as he had never seen them stare at other women, and he was pleased to note the complete indifference which? his companion exhib- ited for these bluntand forward attentions. After a while she hurried up a flight of stairs and into handsomely appointed She instantly locked the door, dashed off her hat, tore her gloves to shreds in her haste to remove them, flung herself on her knees at Master John’s feet and clasped him to her bosom. She heid him thus tightly and 1n silence until he began to struggle for freedom, and then followed a remarkable scene. “Where is my muvver?’ he demanded. *“Your mother, boy; your mother? Oh, she’ll be along pretty soon!” The woman was ncw choking and sob- | bing, and, again drawing the boy to her ssing him hungrily again and again, kenly said: “That is all right, my boy; you'll see her ‘very soon. Look at me. Look me straight in the eyes . like that.” She held his pretty rosy cheeks between her bands and each gazed steadily into the eyes of the other, she through her tears, he wondering and admiring, but d tressed. ‘‘And your name is Johnny,” she said, growing calmer; “‘but I am going to call you Jactk.” My name isunt Johnny an’ it isunt Jack,” he replied with sturdy dignity ana visible oifense. “‘It’s John—John Edward Landor.” Her eyes twinkled and she Jaughed de- lightedly. Then she caugiit him in her srms again and kissed him and cried until be indignantly demanded to be freed. Upon thatshe cajoled, petted and humored him and ran and fetched some candy, and with jests and laughter tempted him with it, but he stoutly said : “No, tank you; I take candy from no- body but jus” my muvver.” She stopped as though he had struck her. Then she again dropped to her knees, “Where is my muvver?" Clarisse sank back in her chair and moaned helplessly. “You tol’ me my muvver was comin’,” eaid Master John imperiously. ““Yes, John, that is what she told me, you know,” 'she replied hurriedly. “Of | course she has been detained.” The | woman turned white as she added ina | voice hardiy above a whisper: *If your | mother doesn’t come in a few minutes your father will be here in an hour or two. | 1 give vou my word for that.” There must have been something in the | woman’s manner that touched the child’s heart, for pity came into his eyes and he stepped close to her and for the first time | gave a demonstration of interest and sym- pathy. Her eyes glowed with ineffable bappiness as be laid bis hand ip bers and | said: “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelin’s. You know, my muvver, she’s awful care- ful about me, an’ she tol’ me never to let any lady what I didn’t know talk to me on the street.” The look of joy faded from the woman’s face, but all the tenderness remained. *John,” she asked, “‘did she warn you against any particular woman ?”’ “L fink,” he answered, thoughtfully, he said I musunt speak to any Iadyy what was tall an’ booful an’ haa “bright black eyes.” The boy was not looking into her face just then, but was regarding ner hand, which he thoughtfuily stroked while striv- ing to remember the warning he had re- ceived. Perbaps it was to hide her face that Clarisse buried 1t in the small shoul- der of Master John and stifled her sobs yvh:‘le her tears streamed down his velvet jacket. While he was'in this quiet and thought- | ful mood something else came into his { mind. “What1s vou’ name?” he never saw you at our house.’ Thereupon he tried to dislodge her face from his shoulder to make a delierate in- Jjinquired. I | ¥ou beast! spection of her, but she held him all the firmer and remained concealed. She evaded his question. They had grown much closer in spirit now. The woman’s frenzy in its various forms had passed and ‘her heart had settled down into a sweet sense of the child’s possession, tempered with vague bitter reflections npon the past and future. But the sweetness of the present was sufficient, and in that her soul was bathed. Iliuminating all other feelings was her trinmphant realization that in spite of all the wild and uncontrollable vagaries of her conduct that day she bad achieved a long march in the conquest of the child. *“I am winning him,” she said over and over in her heart, ‘*and he will love me, he will love me!” 7 She held bim there, still keeping her face concealed, and gently leading his mind into other ways. With infinite tact and sweetness she coaxed him into talk- ing of his own affairs, and she held her- self under perfect control when he spoke of his father and mother. Presently she became aware that dark- ness was falling. She released the child, lichted the rooms brilliantly and gave him an abundance of good things to eat, she joining him in the feast. Two chil- dren were never happier. The boy seemed to have forgotten ail about hishome in the glowing life and radiance which filled the place. Never had a companion so sparkling and charming, so various, daz- zling and beautiful appeared to bis expe- rience. Their jests and pranks and stories and laughter were ringing at their height when the doorbell sounded. The woman quailed, shrank and turned white. She caught the child in her arms, kissed him violently and said: “John, your father has come.” This instantly recalled the boy from his dream. *1T want him,”’ be eagerly said. The woman led him into the drawing- room, seated him and wentout and admit- ted three men—a detective, a policeman and Mr. John Edward, Landor, capitalist and gentleman. “Master Johr is here with me,” the woman quietly remarked, “and we have been enjoying a very delightful visit with each other. Will you enter, gentlemen? I bave been expecting you. 1 am very sorry if I have caused you any inconven- ience, but I knew that as the trail which [ always leave is very broad and easily fol- lowed you would have little difficuity in finding us. By tbe way, Mr. Landor, that intelligent nursegirl of vours is spending the day with her mother.”” Her laugh was hard and malicious. ““Jake us to the boy, Clarisse,” the detec- tive bluntly commanded. *By all-means. Enter, gentlemen.’” She led them into the shining drawing- room, and Master John with a cry and a bound sprang into his father’s arms, where he was held strongly and securely while Mr. Landor glared savagely at the woman standing so defiant and sneering before him. “I am greatly oblized to you, gentle- men,” said he to the officers, “and will now leave you to do your duty.” The woman pricked up herears at that. “Come, Clarisse,” commanded the detec- tive. ‘‘Get your hat and cloak.”” “Why?” she exclaimed, beginning to show a fierce aspect. ““You may necd them on the way to the prison.” “What am I charged with?” *To-morrow Mr. Landor will swear to a complsint for abduction.” The woman started. “And that means that his money and power will send me to the penitentiary.” “That is exactly what it means,’”’ re- marked Mr. Landor, the coldness and hardness of sneering mouth comport- ing oddly with the malignant and im- | placable_hatred that blazed in his gray eyes. “‘You will be piaced where you will be unable to steal my son.” “Your son! O God, that is true! not abduct him. 3 1did You dog, you coward, You know I am’ defenseless. You know I was only exercising a right | that is the most sacred on this earth.” ‘L suppose you have told him,” Mr. Landor szid. “I bave told him nothing, hound! not o low as that.” Her manner then suddenly underwent achange. Tears sprang to her eyes and poured down her cheeks. “Surely,” she pleaded humbly, “you will not send me up. It was only a little prank, John. I couldn’t help it—upon my soul, T couldn’t help it. Was it not enough that you robbed me of our baby and sent me adrift an outcast? I will never speak to him again, John, but will g0 away to-morrow and never come back.” She came near and laid one hand on bis arm and the other on the shoulder of Master Joun. *Don’t be hard on me. Remember the happy old days, John. I meant no harm.” “Gentlemen, do your duty,” coldly said Mr. Landor, as he contemptuously shook the woman off and started for the door. She stood rigid and dazed, but a strange incident revived her. Master John wrig- gled unexpectedly and with so much vigor that he escaped from his father’sarms and ran to Clarisse, who instantly caught him up. He threw his arms round her neck Iam | and kissed her. “You are very naughty tccall my fahver a beast and a dog,” he said, in a playfully chiding tone, ‘“cause he isunt, you know.” “Yes, yes, John; Iknow,” she respond- ed, returning his caress a hundredfold. “You love me, don’t you, John?” she pleadingly asked. “‘Oh, ever so many times much!” She threw a swiit look of triumph at Mr. Landor. “And you will always remember me and love me?’ . “Yes, jus’ aslong as] live.” The azony of love that went into the kisses with which she now smothered the child may not be measured by men. She surrendered the boy, and with a look of infinite sweetness and sadness saw him borne out of the room in the arms of his father. “Good-by, John,” she called. “Good-by,” came back the parting word ina childish voice whose music sang in her soul. There she stood, radiaut, transfixed and beautiful, the embodiment of womanly grace and loveliness. She was recalled to herself by an impatient order: *‘Hurry up, Clarisse.” She started, moaned and staggered into the next room. She was heard to open a drawer, and in another moment the two officers were startled by a pistol shot. They sprang to the door. “We are too late,” said the detective. MIOE THAT LIKE MUSIOQ, The Little Visitors of a Boy Up in Har- lem Who Possesses a Music Box. A small boy up in Harlem has been amusing himself a good deal lately with the mic2 which he finds about the cup- boards in the kitchen. Last Christmas Santa Claus broucht him a little music box, which played two or three tunes when the crank was turned. The boy played it night and day, and would have taken it to school had his mother not for- bidden it. One evening just before bed- time, say 7:45 o’clock, he sat on the fioor cross-legged and turning the tunefal crank. All of a sudden, his mother, who was sitting by the table, leaped up on her chair with a scream. It is a curious fact that house mice de- light in music boxes and other musical things, and three of them had come out of a hole and were running all about the boy, who had not noticed them, so busy was he playing the music box. The mice scurried away at the shriek. The next night when the boy played the mice soon came onto the floor and raced back and forth. Now the mice are very tame, and are fed occa- sionally by the boy. A Forest and_Stream writer once put an automatic music box out on the grass, and spent many hours watching the robins, bluebirds and other birds gathering about it. A looking-glass, put up where the birds can see themselves in it, is also very attractive, while & combination of a music box and a looking-glass pleases the birds more than anything else one could put out for their amusement. ik Sk Aek b, ke e S %fi HERE was a time when Levi Burr was one of the best-known men in all California. But that was long, long ago. So long ago in fact that at the present day very few peo- ple even know of his existence. To those who do remember him, though, ihe men- tion of his name will be enough to conjure up visions of steaming plates of the most | delicious crab that was ever cooked and served in San Francisco, and through the mists of years they will see the littie two- storied building on North Beach where crowds flocked daily to do homage to the incomparabie preparer of shellfish. Levi is there yet, but the old crabman’s place is not what it used to be. Levi Burr was a pioneer of ’49. He came from Connecticut, where he was born in 1807, and as soon as he arrived here saw that good focd was scarce and luxuries scarcer. He had learned to cook crab as they do *“down East,” and his Yankee instinct told him that he could get as much gold out of the shellfish as he could out of the mountains. It did not take long to stake out a claim on North Beach and put upa tent. In one end of this he had his kitchen and in the other were tables for his customers, where they could sit and enjoy the beauties of the bay overa plate of craband a bottle of ale. Whoever tasted Levi's crab was sure to want more. They also brought their friends around and the fame of the place spread like wildfire. In less than a year Levi Burr was known far and wide as “the crabman,” and his business thrived so that he was able to put up a two-story building, which at the time was considered a palace. He also provided amusements ofp?ilflerenr kinds and the bay shore for several hundred feet on either side of his place became a sort of Midway Plaisance. As the locality was improved it gradually became the fashionable promenade of San Fran- cisco, and the promenaders, whenever they became tired or hungry, simply dropped into the crabman’s to refresh themselves. On Sundays the roadway in front of the place was almost impassable, 20 dense was the crowd, and people often waited for an hour to get a seat at a table. In 1855 there was such a demand for Levi's crab that he was compelled to double the size of his building. He cooked several hundreds of the shellfish every day. But how? Ah, that was something that he would tell nobody. It was his secret and has remained his ever since. Hundreds of epicures, men who had traveled all over the world, have tasted Levi's crab and declared it the finest they had ever eaten. As the years went by gold poured in on Levi Burr, and he was soon a wealthy man. He never owed anybody a dollar and his business seemed to be constanily on the increase in spite of the fact that L L] {(@F) F S - [BVLE THE (RABMAN. [in 1879 as it was in 1849 he would have been a wealthy man to-day. He wonld have taken his business to some of the new places, and not waited for things to ‘‘pick up’’ again on North Beach. In- | stead of that, he thought the change | would be only a temporary one, and that in time people would come back his way and bring with them the golden days of olnf. | So herefused many good offers for the sale of his property, and hung on, losing money every day and growing oider all the time until his business died a natural death for lack of customers. { closed the doors ot his place of business. It is now many years since Levi Burr | room are the old chairs in which some of | the most famous men in the State have sat | and the old tables where Levi once served his erab. Levi was an admirer of pictures in his day and the walls of his place are hung with the productions of some of the first artists to arrive 1n the State. There is a large one over the bar from the brush of John Rogers. It represents the bay of San Francisco as it appeared in 1850, and is most likely the first picture ever painted of that body of water. There are numerous works by C. A. Gifford. and an: number of pictures that are unsigned. All are hanging in the same places they were first hung years and years ago. Ina corner is a copy of the Declaration of Independence that Levi prizes very highly. 1t is one of the first copies of that important document ever made, it having been printed in 1818. On differ- | ent parts of the wall are camvaign por- traits of the different candidates for the Presidency. Every one of them has long ago finished his term of office in this world. Considering the fact that Levi Burr is £9 years old he is in a remarkable state of health. He can walk about wherever he vleases assisted only by a stick. His mem- ory is very clear, and he loves to talk about the old days. He spends all of his time in the room where he used to serve crab, wandering among his old belongings. He often sits 'in a chair for hours at a time, gazing in- Present Appearance of Levi Burr's Old [Drawn by a Saloon Where He Served Crab for Nearly Thirty Years. “Call” artist.] But he still lives there, and except for the accumulation of dust and natural decay the place looks the same as it did in the olden days. There have been no changes made in the building since 1855, bui nobody who had seen it then would recognize it now because the surroundings have changed so. When Levi built the house the waters of the | bay were only a few feet from his door. Now they are several blocks off and so concealed by buildings that they cannot be seen. The place where the boatmen for the Merchants’ Ship Exchanges used to have their wharf and tie their boats is now a vacant lot, overgrown with weeds and covered with a coating of old tin cans and rubbish. On all sides are factories, grain warehouses and wharvyes. Levi Burr, the Old Crabman of North Beach. [Sketched From life.] dozens of men tried to cutintoit. They would start *‘crab places” within a few hundred feet of Levi's, but none of them ever got much custom. For a while people would go into the places, but they soon found that there was something lacking in the plates of crab set before them, and they went back to the old reliable crab- man’s. The first cut really made at Levi’s busi- ness was not by his neighbors, but by the Cliff House and Golden Gate Park. These places got people out of the habit of going to Nortn Beach and a change began to come over the locality. But it was such a slow one that Levi could not see the real extentof it. Factories began to come out that way and the whole aspect of that sec- tion of town began to take on a commer- cial tone. Had Levi Burr’s foresight been as good . Considering its great age the oid build- ing does not show much sign of decay, but everything about the place has a melan- choly aspect. The paint has nearly all disappeared from the outside of the build- ing, and it presents a most desolate a | pearance. Nobody ever steps brisk on the porch now and enters the hos- pitable doorway. The door is locked, but old Levi is always inside thinking of bygone days. He spends his time in this room with all of its memen tos of the past. | The windows have not been cleaned for |8 decade and the sunhght struggles | through the glass and falls feebly on the | old furnishings. The same old bar is there | that was put in nearly half a century ago, | and on the shelf behind it the same old bottles, empty now, with the colored crys- tal globes in the top. Scattered about the E I | tently about, as if endeavoring to again | people it with the bappy and contented | feasters of long, long ago. HOMAGE TO BRAVERY. Two Good Stories of the War Times of a Generation Ago. The Rev. Robert Wilson of St. Luke’s Episcopal Church says: “In 1883 I met in Richmond a Colonel McCoy of Pennsylvania, who had been a gallant wearer of the blue. We got quite chummy over a ‘mixed Wood’ campfire, and wishing to put him at his ease, I toid him the story of Kershaw’s magnificent | reconnoissance at Fredericksburg, which can never be too often repeated. An iorderxy had arrived in hot haste | with & command for General Ker- |shaw to have the enemy recon- | noitered at all hazards from a knoll which | was swept by the fire of the sharpshooters | of both armies, Every bush and tree | had been cut away by a storm of bullets, and it looked like certain death to the { man who should attempt it. Calmly slinging his field Elnsu, and turning over his command to the next officer in rank, Josepn B. Kershaw rode slowlg up to the deathtrap into which he would not send any other man. The sigh: of his heroic jaction as he sat amid the whistling minies, sweeping the opposing ranks with | his glass, was too much_ for the chivalry | of the Yankee commander, and the order | went down the Federal_line, ‘Cease firing on that officer.” The rifles became silent, the reconnoissance was finished, and rais- ing his cap in acknowledgment, General Kershaw quietly rode back at a walk, un- | barmed.” “It was a splendid incident,” remarked Colonel McCoy, **but I can cap it with a personal experience of the chivalrous dis- position of your men. I was on General Meade’s staff near Richmond, and one | morning, with the general at our head, | we rode down to take a look over the river. As we turned sharply out of the bushes and came out on the bank we found ourselves in point blank range of a Confederate picket drawn up on the otner side. A volley | would have emptied every saddle, for we were en.irely at their mercy, but it would have been murder, for they could not cross and capture us. Recognizing Gen- eral Meade, the commander of the detach- ment ordered his men into line, and they presented arms. We raised our caps in | grateful acknowledgment, rode slowly | back into the bushes, and, as soon as we were fairly out of sight, put spurs to our horses and scudded back to the camp as if the devil was after us.”—Charleston News and Courier. ———— A Warning to Tipplers. Old Johnson was very much given to | *tippling,” not wisely but too well, and would spend all bis spare time at his favor- ite pub. is house was so situated that it was necessary for him to go through the churchyard to reach it. One night, bein, | abit fuller than usual, he managed to fall into a newly made grave. He fell without | hurting himself, and being tired went off | to sleep. When he awoke the next morn- ing he couldn’t make out where he got to, but after a struggle managed to reach the | top of the grave and look around. A broad grin spread over his face as he muttered to himself: ‘‘Dear, dear, it's resurrection day, and L'm up first.”’—Spare moments. LEVI BURR’S RESORT ON NORTH BEACH IN 1852. 1From a sketch made at the time by C. 8. Gifford.]