The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 7, 1896, Page 24

2 4 THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, JUNE 7, 1896. THE AP HILOSOPH EROFOKLAD QLK | One of the happiest men in California is | has had a great deal of hard times in his old man Logan. His home is in Alameda, | life, but now he says that things are com- | but his place of businessis along the banks ing his way and that he is in no danger of of Oakland Creek, where he does any kind | want. of ajob he can get, from scrubbing down | “The trouble with people is that they tbe deck of a schooner to stepping a mast. Logan has been on this globe for nearly | seventy yearsand has spent the last thirty- | had been hauled high and dry. | want too much in this world,” said Logan, leaning against the stern of a rowboat that “They five of them in and around Oakland. He | think they ought to have everything you can think of and have money at the same time. Now, I have found out that this | won’t work. When I was a young fellow I often spent $4in a night. I didn’t care anything for money, but the time came when I didn’t have any. That started me thinking and I made up my mind to save something, and now I am all right. “] tell you, it makes a man feel good to | and spena it; but I used to lay by a five- THO OF THE ODEST MEN N AL THE WIE WORLD One Says FateCannot Harm Him—The Other Thinks He Is More Than a Centenarian. know that he has enough money on hand to keep him and his from want. ButIam in that position, and the world can roll around as it likes forall I care. Yes, sir, L have $40 laid by. Four shining golg pieces. It took me a good many years to save them, but I have done it. A man can do anything if he don’'t want too much. “It's just this way. If a man will take what he can get and make the best of it he will soon find that he ison the road to success. Some men, if they can't lay by a doflar, think it is no use trying to save, cent piece if I didn’t have anything else. That’s the way I did it. Now look at me. Iam as independent as anybody and have $40. “I understand myself and don’t expect much. I know I ain’t worth any more than I will work for. If I take a job for 50 cents that somebody else would be glad to do for 50 cents, I know it ain’t worth any more thun 50 cents, and I know that I ain’t worth any more than that or I wouldn’t be doing it. The sooner a man finds this out the better for him. No man is worth any more than he will work for.”” The other workmen along the creek think old Logan is a great deal of an oracle. They crowd around him whenever he starts to talk, ana few attempt to dis- pute him. *He knows what he is talking about,” said one; *“he bas had a whole life full of experience, and in these hard times he is able to say that he has got $40. [ wish I could say the same.” Chris Lang is a familiar figure in the neighborhood of Tenth and Howard streets and also a most peculiar one no matter where he may be. His clothes have been out cf date for many years and the hat he wears is one of the kind seldom worn because they never look gooa on any- body. But Chris is pleased with his outfit and also with himself. He not only thinks that his appearance is beyond criticism, but believes the world is unhappy because all of the people in it do not follow the same mode of life that he does. The story of Chris’ life 1s a most inter- esting one as he tells it, but the strange thing is that it makes him out to be about 115 years old. He does not know the ex- act date of his birth, but the event took place in Bavaria. He is sure that he came to California nearly forty years ago and shortly after his arrival discovered the cause of all the trouble in the world. He made up his mind to have no more of it himself, and he has not, according to his idea. Chris is anxious to talk about himself and his ideas. “The great canse of ill health and poverty,” he said, *‘is worry, and useless worry at that. People bave ideas that they must do certain things, never thinking that they are throwing their lives away in doing them. Just look at all of the time people waste in going to a certain place of abode every night and the amount of anxiety they go through if HENEVER SLEEPS TWICEM THE SATEBED they are for any reason unable to get there. I tell you it is killing of the race. “Now, I have got over that idea, and it has paid me well. I was put into the world, and any part of it is my home. I sleep wherever night finds me, and don’t waste money and time getting to a certain spot that is no better than where I am. I started 1n on this scheme over thirty-five years ago, and I don’t think 1 have slept in the same bed twice since; surely not two nights in succession. All I have in the world is in that satchel, and I always have it with me. Iam a piang tuner, and always have plenty of work. Sometimes I go to different parts of the Btate, but I never think of coming back except circum- stances turn me this way. “What do I do when I am sick? I am never sick. People don’t get sick if they don’t worry. I eat and sleep where- ever I please, am always at home and as happyas can be. If [ have work to do I doit, and when I haven’t, I go to the ‘nearest saloon and rest. You never catch me a-worrying. When I can’t have my own way I do the best I can.” Why, K I1l Treatment Often Fastens the Vice on a Horse. - The Pity of Fine Animals in the Care of Human Under- breds. Only Punish for Shying Before or After the Act—Miss Russell’s Gecod Advice. Waiting for a car the other day I saw a bit of the horsemanship tnat is all too eommon in this City. There is, perhaps, .o city in the country where grocers and marketmen use finer borses in their de- livery wagons. The character of the streets and the steep hills of Ban Francisco de- mands a good deal of speed, strength and staying-power in theanimals used in these ines of work. Time is money, and our business men realize that there is no economy 1n cheap horses. speed, strength and staying-power there are attendant qualities in every good horse that render him something more and less than a machine, and materially increase his eapaeity for suffering and for mischief. High spirit and a sensitive nervous organ- ism are always the heritage of a desirable horse. 'Withont them the animal is a mere lump of flesh, lacking inclination, ability or courage to exert himself beyond what he knows his driver will compel him to, and the latter, in getting any real work from him, will usualiy work about as hard as the horse. San Francisco merchants have no use for equine plugs, and it is a | great pity that they so often find it neces- sary to turn over tte fine animals they use to the human underbreds we so often see | controlling them. The bit of horsemanship I witnessed while waiting for my car was on the part of the driver of one of these unfortunate de- livery-wagon horses. The animal was a big, handsome, nervous chestnut, appa- rently not yet wholly accustomed to city sights, for he was betraying considerable | agitation at the sight of an approaching electric car. He was a little frightened, but by no means fractious.. Any driver of ordinary will, tempered by a modicum of common-sense, would have had no diffi- culty with him. He plunged a little and sheered off, quite willing, it was apparent, to give the object of his fright all the room there was to spare, but passing it, atterall, without doing any mischief. Had his driver been content to let well enough alone the horse would, vrobably, have experienced less fear in passing the next car, but no sooner was the terrible object safely passed than down fell the lash upon KERS' TAICKS IND THEIR CURE. | animal is beginning to take alarm the | | effect is to distract his attention from the | cause of his fright and to fix his mind, | But with the | the animal’s back, not once, but many times. - This, when not a blow had been struck during his manifestation of fright. Now, the time to punish a horse that shows any inclination to ‘“‘shy’ is before or during the perpetration of the offense, | If the whipis judiciously used when the | which can never entertain more than one idea at a time, upon his work. If he ex- } ! hibits fright and when the cause of it has | passed out of view he feels the pain of the whip he will always thereafter associ- | ate the particular object with the idea of punishment and will never fail to be | frightened when it appears. I venture to | say that this particular horse will never | again see an electric-car without being thrown into alarm. Thanks to his driver, | he has also acquired a worse vice. Thick and fast the blows fell upon his back. as I | watched the pair, and the plunce forward that followed each fall of the lash was checked by a cruel jerk at the bit, until finally what I was confidently expecting happened. Down went the head of the | thoroughly angered and frightened creat- ure and a pair of iron-shod heels flew once, twice through the air. The tirst time they caught the wooden dashboard and splin- terea it finely. The second kick wasde- livered rather perfunctorily. It was evi- dently not a usual trick and the horse looked back in a curious way, as though rather wondering what he had done. But the driver had had enough. The swinging heels had come unpleasantly near to his own shins and he putup his whip—a second and fatal blunder. The brain of the horse is logical if narrow, and that one will never forget that punish- ment ceased upon his kicking. He will probably never again be safe to drive without a *“kicking-strap.” It is & curious fact that nearly halr the lighter driving horses seen upon the streets of San Francisco are equipped with this adjunct to the harness. ‘‘You use un- usually heavy harness out here, do you not?"”’ a newcomer to the coast said to me | the other day. “I think not,” was my | reply. Then he called my attention to | several norses, all within a single block on | Market street, wearing the broad, strong strap extending over the quarters from shaft to shaft that proclaims the wearer a kicker. “Ah,” was his comment, ‘[ un- derstood there was a good deal of kicking in California just now, but I did not asso- ciate it with the horses.” But it is a fact that never, in any other City, have I seen as many kicking horses as bear about our streets this badge of theirdisgrace. A horse that once acquires the trick of kicking is rarely cured of it. I have known of the habit being con- quered by steady kindness and gentle treatment, but the animal seldom takes to kicking until he is goaded to it by harsh, unreasonable treatment, or by teasing, and once this pass is reached with him | his disposition is almost certain to be hopelessly spoiled. The only remedy the driver has is to have a kicking-strap added to the barness, by which at least half the value is taken from the horse if be is offered for sale, The kicking-strap is a heavy strip of leather that, to be of any use, should be at least two inches wide, going over the hips and fastened to the shaft on either side. It should be loose enough to allow the horse to trot without chafing his back, yet tight enough te pre- | vent him from raising behind, and to do | this effectively it should be buckled to the | shafts so that it lies two inches beyond the hipbones. The breechirg, when the kick- ing-strap 1s used, should be left a little looser than ordinarily, a fact usually over- looked by stablemen, with the result that | the animal’'s back often gets sore and | chafed, from the heavy strap. Excessive punishment is the most fre- | quent cause of a horse taking to kicking, but I know one nervous, quick-stepping animal whose driver, a good-natured, Teasing and tickling a young horse, even in play, is sure to develop the kick- ing trick. A good many grooms and sta- blemen do this because they think it is funny, but the man caught oncedoing it | should never again be trusted about'a horse. There hre also horses that kick naturally and from sheer viciousness, and these, curiously enough, can more often be brought to subjection than can those that take to it'in self-defense. The reason for this lies, perhaps, in the peculiar makeup of the equine brain. The first exhibition of the trick should meet almost invariably vanquish the brute’s strength and teach him a fear that he will never forget. But a horse thus conquered is never a friend, and he must always be looked out for, as he will be quick, at some time, to take advantage of an unguarded moment. To break such a vicious kicker of his trick should be the work of a spe- cialist, and no amateur should ever at- tempt it. Striking, another bad trick, whi'e almost equally dangerous, is much easier to control. In striking the animal uses his forefeet, but he can use but one at a time, as these legs carry most of his “4 horse should never be struck for baving shied. That is one way to make him kick.” careless lady, had the habit lady-drivers so often do have of keeping up an inter- mittent, flickering sort of tapping with the whip on her pet’s neck. One day “Pet” suddenly came to the end of his endurance of the irritation and showed it by lifting his heels, to the detriment of breeching and single-tree and' the Jacera- tion of his mistress’ feelings. She always after avowed her belief that the horse is by nature treacherous and unreliable. There was that brute she had driven gently, petted and cared for for more than a year who “all at once, with no provocation whatever, started kicking, so we sold him,"” with prompt and effectual punishment. The heretofore well-behaved horse that1s angered into kicking usually succeeds, in the surprise of fhe moment, in abating the nuisance that drove him to the deed and no amount of punishmept for subsequent offenses will ever move him to forget this one success. He will always afterward expect to gain a point by the means that gained it then, On the other hand, the animal that kicks from viciousness starts in with the idea of conquering his human foe. Ina good, sharp fight, human wit, aided by those wonderful and, to the horse, in- weight, and he can be readily disconcerted and cured of his trick by any one who is quick enough and strong enough to catch up the offending hoof and raise it as high as he can carry it. A horse has more re- spect than has any other creature for the cunning capabilities of .the human hand, and he soon learns that, feeble as it is, it can outwit and subdue and control his strength. A driving-horse that kicks is rendered comparatively harmless by the kicking- strap, but the saddle animal who possesses this trick cannot be put under any such restraint. The vice is particularly dan- comprehensible tools, human bands, will [geroua in a saddle-horse as it is exceed- der a horse returnable after purchase. is a dangerous and exasperating trick, but one thatis almost invariably traceable to stupid or vicious msnagement. A horseis by nature kindly and obliging, and more than willing to do what man wants him to. His understanding, however, is limited, while bis very willingness and acute sensi- tiveness to praise or to blame make him the more easily rendered sulky and vicious. ingly difficult for even an expert rider to keep his seat on a kicker, ‘About the only thing to do under such circumstances is to get the animal’s head up and keep it up, and, if ridden at all, the creature should wear an overdraw., Ifa horse unexpect- edly takes to kicking in harness, about the only thing to do is to pull his head up sharply and bold it there with one rein drawn more tightly than the other. The left rein is the better one to pull tight, as a better purchase is to be had on it. Ponies almost seem to be born witha tendency to kick, but the trick is usually the result of early teasing on a naturally irritable temper; and these creatures are also usually not very intelligent. Occasionally an aged horse, after years of sedate pulling of the family carriage, will suddenly have a lapse into coltish- ness and kick up its heels in most unex- pected fashion. Such a manifestation is always amszing, probably as much so to the offender as to any one, but it need oc- casion no alarm for the future. The old horse may kick up once, but he is sure to resume the even tenor of his way and will probably never again forget himself. Gen- erally speaking, the horse that lives to be ten years old without kicking will never, even under provocation, develop into a kicker. Kicking is one of the four vices that ren- It Miss RUSSELL. ELEQTRICITY IN MEDICINE, 1t is evident that the dependence of medical science upon electricity tfor diag, nosis, prognosis and therapeutic aids in every year growing greater. Witness, for example, the recent discovery of the Roentgen rays, by means of which it is possible to discern the bones of the body, and which have already become a most important adjunct of surgery, Then, too most of the aids rendered by electricity are such as cannot be obtained by other means. One of the methods of applying electric- ity ‘in electro-therapeutics is by introduc- ing medicine directly into the system by means of the electric current cailed cata- phoric medication. It is known that the passage of an electric current between two poles through a conducting liquid me- dium such as is formed by the fluids of the body, is accompanied by a decomposi- tion of the liquid and a transportation of the particles forming the positive pole through the liquid and the deposition of them in the neighborhood of the negative vole. Thus, when two poles connected to a suitable force are formed of sponges and applied at any desired part by piacing them in contact with the skin over snch parts, and the positive pele is moistengd with the lignid it is desired to introduce into the body, the passage of an electric current will be attended by the introduc- tion of the particles or molecnles forming the solution on the positive electrode and deposition of them in the neighborhood of the other pole, which may be located Wherever is most desirable, THE BILLIONS OF CIGARETTES USED, An Average of Two Hun- dred for Every Male Inhabitant. Enormous Consumption of the Little Paper Smokers in the United States. The Product Is Greater in Figures Than All the Corn Raisad in America. About the only ‘‘fabulous figures” (or figures thought to be fabulous by many) of American product of manufacture used to be those of the corn crop of the United States, exceeding 1,000,000,000 bushels a year and touching in 1893 the enormous total of 2,060,000,000. But these mam- moth figures of the production of corn in the United States are totally eclipsed by the figures of cigarette manufacture, the total number of cigarettes made in this country last year being 3.620,- 000,000. The total number of male persons in the United States between the ages of 18 and 44 were returned by the last censusas 13,230,000; but aading those above 44 yeurs of age and making allowance for the increase in ‘population since 1890, it is safe to say that there are 18,000,000 men and boys of “cigarette smoking” age in the United States, and this would give an average of 200 cigarettes for each man and boy in the republic every year, provided, of course, that cigarette smoking was general instead of being, as it is, restricted to a very small fraction of the whole popu- lation, mostly in the cities and large towns. The number of cigars manufactured in the United States last year, including, of course, those said to be “imported,” was 400,100,000, and at the head of all the States in the manufacture of these was Pennsylvania, New York coming second, Ohio third, Illinois fourth and Florida (Key West) fifth. It is encouraging for New Yorkers to know that, although Pennsyivania made more cigars than this State, New York used more tobacco in hers. Kentucky raises an enormous amount of tobacco, but it does not use very much of it for manufacturing purposes, Kentucky tobacco being sent to other States. The Kentucky tobacco crop last year was 190,000,000 pounds, of which less than 900,000 pounds were manufactured in the State. Connecticut, too, raises much tobacco and manufactures little, Eighteen pounds of tobacco are required for 1000 cigars and turee and a half pounds for 1000 cigarettes. The consumption is an average of 200 cigarettes apiece a year for the whole male population of the L country above the age of 18 years.