The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, July 19, 1896, Page 18

18 THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, JULY 19, 1896. In The Shadow Of Windsor Gastle On and Off the Beaten Paths in Merry Old Engiand---The Liord High The End of a Lane in Windsor. “'Ere on your —Z+ right, cabinet—pres- ——. ents to the Queen— Rajab. ’ere on your left— embroidered — —— chain made of - —— silver ornament | —belonged to — gobeling tapestry —etc.” And on all these red-brocaded or ta- pestried walls great portraits hang in old- gold frames. The Van Dyck room alone con- tains fourteen or fif- teen marvelous por- traits by that wonder- ful master. And the relentless Bobby chases us out, with but a fleeting glance at the loftily scornful Charles I; at Henri- etta, his wife; at the beautiful children— the second Duke of Buckingham and Lord Francis Villiers —two tall boys in brown velvet, with brown velvet eyes and hair, the almost too familiar children of Charles the First and another portrait as unfamiliar. And ever the toothless guide proceeds on- ward and shows us elephant tusks mounted in silver and strange ostrich-feath- er fans, and presents galore, like one sec- tion of the depart- ment of India at the Midwinter Fair! Cardinal Wolsey’s chapel1s emply on this warm Jupe afternoon; the rich lignt from the stained windows. falls on the heavily carved stalls in the choir or the blue and gold of the plates behind them, with the coats of arms and banners of the Knights of the Garter on the tombs and monuments, ancient and modern, that lie peacefully enough in Wol- sey’s chapel, sleeping a High Church of England sleep. Here lies the poor young Duke of Clar- ence under a massive stone, with the enormous stiff wreaths of black beads and yel- low immor- telles upon it. One of the Quaint Scenes on the Thames Apove Windsor. :\'INDSOR, Exeraxn, June 23.—*Ye | beiieve that once a furious mob burst into Bijon Inn" is the legend he ‘who runs may read” in blue letters on a white ground on a swinging sign before one of the tall, old-fast ioned houses of Windsor, almost in the shadow of Winasor Castle. If the day is & warm and sunny one, and the broad low windows are open and bright with scarlet geraniume, the tempta- tion to enter is very great indeed. Every- thing 18 so scrupulously clean, the house- {front, tke door with its polished knocker, the curtains that swell a little like the sails of a ship. Upon entering, the cool- est air blows in from the sheltered garden behind the house; little white Moorish arches separate the big room from the ball, and everything repeats the colors of the little swinging sign. Everything is white and blue as a piece of Delft ware;. the walls are pale blue with white lines ! the curtains are tied with blue, on the cen- ter of each immaculate little table are white daisies in a blue glass. It isa jewel of an inn, long may it waveand prosper! The hostess—for the question of pay- ment is a sordid detail, to be arranged with much delicacy and humor—is her- self a floating vision of blue and white. Her bodice is embroidered with blue ferns; she wears a blue satin stock around her neck; the apron that flutters about her is s0 fine that it is only a bit of coquerry euch as a court belle might add as a touch of character in a role assumed for a night only. With a bit of courtplaster under one eye and another on the chin, the land- iady of the Bijou Inn might'have posed for Romney or Gainsborough. As a rule the eager traveler arrives in ‘Windsor at 10 in the morning, rushes mad!y through the castle, drives to Eton for an bour and returns for the late after- noon train to London with weary satisfac- tion. And yet ‘‘the dwelling on the wind- ing shore” offers so much that is pictur- esque and interesting. ‘T'be castle itself isshown by & guide. He has grown old in service. His hair has fallen from the top of his head, but it grows luxuriantly under his chin; he wears a black coat, so tightly buttoned it suggests that he is afraid of having bis in- formation escape from him unawares. He uiso is melancholy; be wears a low collar, with two points, and he has two teeth in a mouth which must once have contained a double number, it is 8o impressively wide end empty. We are arranged like a chein- gang and the old gentlemen leads us like a keeper. He draws one long breath as he enters each room and exactly exhausts it in information as he leaves. A bobby brings up the rear and chases any weak- minded admirer of a picture caught “on the fly,” as it were, to the foreground, so that the pearls dropping from the aged lips may not be lost. Here is a sample of :he pearis: “The pictures in this room represent sver the door Fillup II of Spain, on she nght King Hennery V1I, on the left :he 'oly Family; the ceiling represents Queen Catteryne proceedin' to the Tem- ple of Virtue, drawn by swans.” “This room is calied the Rubens room, sn account of the name of the artist as painted the pictures.”” The old gentlemen drops a word or two sere and there, so that his communica- jons reach us in broken fragments. the *“Papist” chapel, asit wasin the daysof James I1, and broke the beautiful windows and demolished whatever they could in a kind of blind religious madness, leaving it toa century of dilapidation and neglect. Henry VIII and Jane Seymour lie in the vaults under the sunken pavement of St. George’s Chapel, and between the two are the cloisters, with the inscriptions al- most obliterated by the restless feet of those who have walked under the cool arches. The whole place is full of memories. Here Izaak Walton brought his son Wil- liam in 1646 to be baptized in the church, and here lies the wife of Simond Allen, canon of Windsor, the eighth “Vicar of Bray.” In thé Chapel. There is one curious old monument: “In happie memory of Edward Jobson and Elynor, his wyfe, by whom the sayd Edward had issue VI sons: vide, Edward, Francis, Homfrie, James, Wiiliam, Rich- ard; and II1J daughters, Elizabeth, Eliza- beth, Catherine, Sarg.” And all the VI sons and the 111J daugh- ters and their parents and their wives or husbands are kneeling on either sideof an altar reading desk, under which isa recumbent figure of a child. They are all in sixteenth century costumes. Directly under the castle walls, between Henry VIII’s gateway and the Curfew Tower, are some of the quaintest houses and shops. A very crooked little place, standing very self-reliantly separate, be- tween two tall houses, is John Uanning’s house. John Canning is brewer to the Queen, and the whole housefront is a garden, waving with bright blossoms. The whole street to the foot of the hun- dred steps leading from the castle to the river and over the bridge to Eton is pic- turesque to a degree. One of the houses is supposed to have been the residence of Mrs. Page,Nin the “Merry Wives of Windsor.” This is Ascot week, and the merry wives and the merry husbands and the merry daughters and sons of Windsor swarm through the streets. The funny little crooked streets il 1®ud to the castle or the river, and we have but to follow the crowd. The river is ruffled by an audacious little breeze, and the rowboats have hard pull agsinst the tide. The steam and electric launches shoot out from under the bridges and scatter the small boats to right and left; ali along the shores the houseboats are moored, gay with flags and colors and flowers. Every now and then the long slim canvas boats, manned by the college men, flash through the water. Thereis so much movement and variety and excitement even to this wind-swept river that it_u pleasant to slip down one of the quiet waterways, out of the brilliant glare of light into the cool shadow of the over- hanging trees. ‘We reach one spot where the vain wil- low lean far over the banks and even reach down long green fingers and dabble like children in the water beneath. And over the surface that is smooth and shining as a polished floor the daddylonglegs go a-skating, and the color of the water is like the green satin shot in the silver our grandmothers use to wear; and the reflec- tions waver like those in an old-fashioned mirror, aud it would be possible to make many more beautiful comparisons. Opposite 1s the little old gray church of Clewes, with a red-tiled roof and alow stone wall, holding in some weatherbeaten gravestones and misshapen ancient trees. Peuce itself has settled on this litile water- way; not anecho reaches usof the myriads on the river outside; we seem to be, at present, pioneers and the only settlers but the birds and the mosquitoes. The birds come hopping down fearle:sly over the unkempt grass to drink, and the air is full of a subdued twitter and whir of wings and the soft rush of the wind in the tree- tops. The mosquitoes, those' hardy and adventurous ruffians, seem disinclined for action; they stand thougntfully twisting their legs on the coats in tne bottom of the boat, or take a sober promenade on the precipitous edges of the neglected open novels. They are very modern novels and the food is evidently too rich, for they fall in and are overcome between the leaves. ‘We are left quite unmolested for a time, until a stately family of Lohengrins come It is hard 1ol —_—— The Guide Through the Gastle. ~ \\V&z_ e 2 7 J L b s | emn attraction. depths. That is, they appear so. They are probably ten feet, unfathomable in some places and six or eight or ten treach- erous feet in others. They have a fire for our special benefit when we return to Windsor.. It isin one of the small streets on the roed to Eton; a fire-engine comes dashing down the street. It isas diminutive as an electric launch and a young swell in boating clothes drives it like a four-in-hana. It comes bravely on, however, with a little weak ‘“‘choo-choo” in its throat and a vol- unteer fire brigade at its heels, There is very great excitement apparently and everybody is the fire brigade, little Eton boys and big rivermen. Everything is pitched from the windows; the furniture appears to consist largely of chairs. They attempt to lower an old piano, very small, with a large painting of flowers on the front. but it sticks in the window and the ingenuity stops here. The street grows more and more crowded, but trafic is not at all inter- rupted; a hose is pulled out from a cart and a pump is worked by twenty men and boys with great cheerfulness and good will. There is no smoke and no flame, but there must be a fire. Some one informs us it is behind all these housefronts, some- where in some hidaden court. The soldiers come down from the castle with another stretch of hose ana everybody cheers; real firemen in big brass helmets add reality to the scene, which is as bewildering as a stage battle. We finally retire, as well as we may, through the patiert crowd, in the out- skirts of which a gypsy man and woman with a hurdy-gurdy shout and drone “Paradise Alley.” An hour or so later we saw the young swell in the boating cos- tume driving his steam launch home for dinner. Dinner is ready for us in the Bijou Inn, and we reflect upon its comforts and the fact that we have discovered it, and we talk a great deal about the charms of sim- ple and ’umble life, and how we are above the vulgarity of desiring aristocratic surroundings, great hotels and their suggestions of great people. and here the waitress comes in and says to our Mrs. Gainsborough, in a voice in- tense emotion has made audible: “The Lord 'igh Chancellor is comin’, the Lord ’igh Chancellor!” The Lord ’igh Chancellor has missed the train, and is evidently better ac- quainted than we with the Bijou Inn. There are but few guests, but we all glance furtively at the Lord ’igh Chancel- lor and examine his family with equal de- | light; we have momentarily put aside our | ‘umility. 1t is quite thrilling to follow the courses of the dinner and to know pos- itively, without question or doubt, that & Lord ’igh Chancellor can drink ginger | beer. Sunday in Windsor is not without a sol- The steep streets under the Irowning castle, even in the calm and almost deserted silence of the Sabbath, have a suggestion of subdued gayety, like a child’s graver face. And in the morning sunlight, with the black trees under the gray walls, there is more than a sugges- tion of an Italian morning. ‘Wulk over the bridge to Eton, with all the Eton boys going to chapel (if you are alive in a carriage it costs you 2d, if you are dead in a earriage it costs you 6s 8d, so for mercenary reasons it is wiser to walk), follow the sharp black and white of the little figures over the irregular pave- ments, under the overhanging roofs and gables, all overgrown with ancient ivy, aad you will turn atlast into a walk shaded by great trees, into the gquadrangle of Bton College. One youthful aristocrat, with the man- ners of a duke, points us the way, answers our numerous questions and goes at our request to inquire whether we may attend the services and hear the choir. We re- mark in his absence upon the difference &‘;flrfl T\ fe ODD GORNERS AT EATON. sailing along, There is a romantic charm about the snowy and graceful swan, and this family—Mr. and Mrs. Lohengrin and three small gray Lohengrins—attract our attention. We throw them bits of soft cake, at which they snap in an unroman- tic manner, and when our blandishments have come to an end they come toward us, lifting great wings and emitting strange and unearthly sounds, and one savagely attacks the oer, and the head of the family appears about to climb into the boat. We tumble out respectively (they are very formidable at close range) and we sink in a foot of mud and clamber up the bank with more haste than dignity. ‘When they have sailed onward—not singing a dying song of passionate beauty, but still giving strange squawks like in- furiated hens—we prefer to move further up the stream, where there are no swans; only a mill and an old manor house with iron clamps on the leaning walls and little windows in impossibie places. It is all repeated in the water, which repeats the sky, too, luminous and clouded, and flash- ing sunlight, over and over again, aeeper and deeper down in the unfathomable betweeen an American and an English youth, upon the difference and dignity oi bearing even the smallest Brilons seem to acquire, and upon the impertinent cheer- fulness of our own small brothers across the waters. When our young friend re- turns with the desired permission he eyes us for an instant with evident. interest, and then says shyly: “'I beg your pardon, are you Americans?' ‘When we declare we have that honor his small face lights up and he remarks with emphatic boyish emphasis, ‘S0 'm I!” He was a young American duke, not an English one! A In one of the great schcolrooms the wooden panels, six feet high, the great doors, the benches and desks are covered with names. At the first glance the im- Ppression is one of a rich conventional pat- tern in wood-carving; at the second we decipher a name or two cut in bold char- acters by strong childish bands. with a date of a hundred years ago; some of the unsteady sunken characiers date back to 1500, & cat of all the youthful heroes who for centuries haye peopled this his- toric place. The-youthful heroes who populate it at present file into chapel in strings of ten or twelve, little choristers in white gowns, 6-foot boys with stooping shoulders, blonde boys and dark boys and white boys and btown boys, and one iittie black boy with a strange, melancholy little face and the gravity of a bronze statue. Each small boy deposits his silk hat on an old bench in the ante-chapel or on the tall arms of the candelabrs, or on the pavement, the sunken stohes under which rest the masters and chaplains of long past days. At night we wander in the great park, down Queen Anne’s ride, with the big elms black against the moon. Vax Dyck Brows. An Evening With The Street Orators All my life I have listened with inteyest to the orator on the street corner. I can by no means pass him now without paus- ing to catch the spray from his stream of eloquence. In the long ago he held a most high position among the heroes of my childish mind. When I grew older, I, too, would be a speaker, or ai least I would marry one and wander at will from city to viliage, selling medicine or doing tricks and gathering a fortune in nickels. I was undecided, whether to have a bear or a monkey, trying to decide which I feared least. Thelady who sang while her husband bung by his toes from a rope, or turned himself inside out, was greater than a queen, and only the lack of a singing voice kept me from craving a life just like hers. I realize now that she didn't let a little thirg like that stand in her way. The medicine man who had a troupe of singers, and who could afford a platfoam on the corner and a sheli to exhibit the tapeworms, with the name of the former possessor on each jar, was a potentate. The bits of information I gathered from ihe speeches were carefully treasured and implicitly trusted until some later master of eloquence assured me it was all non- sense and that he alone knew all about it. The day I discovered that my own lot was to be preferred to any fakir's was not exactly a day of triumph. It is not pleas- ant to see the paint rubbed off. I would rather believe that the fairies in the ballet dance on forever. So much we enjoy is only paint. ‘While I left behind my faith in and the desire to emulate the corner people, 1 have kept & keen interest in them and I know them in ail their phases. Going idly about one afternoon during the orator season, seeking something to distract, I thought of going to all the cor- ners and squares frequented by them and listening for a short time to each. As the first sunset shadows fell across a certain square a man came along with a valise. By all my experience he was a vender of cure-alls. Now was he pills or liniment? He stepped to a post and fastened to it a chart from the valise. All the idlers in sight began to gather. The chart was only a rough drawing of the signs of the zodiac. The stream of his eloquence was loosed, the Chicago convention whiskers pegan to wave, and the purpose of the chart was revealed. He wanted to cast our horoscopes and tell us what we were good for. O for the day of childish faith that I might pay my money and find that out! He explained the science of astrology and oonvinced us of its value and the bigoted ignorance of a dictionary " . which callsit arelicof mythology. So many of the mysteries of life are plain to me since that lesson. The reason that round people are in square holes is that they never bad their horoscopes cast, do not know under which siar they were born and what they canbe. And -~ we were glad to hear that soon all colleges and In the Quadrangle. schools will bave a horoscope-caster—may my friend himself secure a good place— and each applicant must be cast and ac- cepted or rejected according to his star. One of the audience remarked aloud that it should have been done long ago, and ‘we murmured our applause. He told me why the lover of my caramel days has a wife and three children now. You see, he was born in Mars and I was born in S8aturn. I have no proof of this. but the man said that people thus born often intended to marry, bu:i the fates never allowed it. g Think, Tommy, if we had known this how much of agony, peppermints and bliss we might have saved ourselves. * * = = 1 followed a few blocks and halted with a Salvation band. They sang a most familiar hymn. The air was “Ben Bolt.” The words were an improvement on the original. Better a Savior who hears when you cail than an Alice wbo weeps when you smile. What a trial said Alice must have been to matter-of-fact people. The ensemble of the army improves. The faces are stronger than those we saw ten years ago, and the grammar has im- proved. What they said does not need repetition here. They told the same story they always tell, told it with the same radiant smile of faith, and I believe they had found all they claimed. A faith that lifts a man out of the dirt and puts a look like that in his eyes is a power for good. * = x % Imoved on to where I knew I should find a brown-faced, kean-eyed social econ- omist talging to the same crowd that drank in his words last night and the night before that. He explained anew to us how impossible it is for us 1to do anything for ourselves as long as the poor are ground down to pam- per the rich, and when he figured out how many workers had to give their day’s toil to pay for one revel of the rich man, all our hearts swelled with a sense of personal wrong. When he said the laborer is worthy of his hire we nodded emphatic- ally and thought how much more the editor gets than we do, while as for writ- ing—well, we would just like to see him. gl s A Bo I went on, with a grievance against the rich ready to be supplanted by the particular grievance of the next orator. “Atorch! Joy! Liniment!” “Why do people suffer when they catch cold and get a pain in the muscles? From bigotry. I tell you, ladies and gentlemen, because they wan’t believe me when I say this wonderful liniment will cure them in five minutes. Five minutes! Think of that! Isthere one of you suffering with rheumatism or a sprain or the toothache ? Come up here and bave this wonderful liniment applied free of charge. and if the pain ain’t gone inside of five minutes I'll give you your money back.” For a second my heart was in my mouth. I have made a vow that the first time such an appeal is made in vain, I, myself, will go up and be cured. Not that time though. Up climbed a lad witha jump- ing toothache. The medicine was ap- plied and, presto! the boy smiled. Now another. An old man with bentshoulders and a pain in bis neck. A brisk rub and the old man sprang nimbly to the side- walk. ‘Wonderful liniment indeed! My dish is always upside down when it rains. Nota pain or an ache about me that night, and the week before, when there was no heaven-sent liniment, I groaned with the toothache. 3 Downtown next, for it neared the hour of the politician filled to overflowing with proselyting zeal. I must be converted. He was there, but I had missed the first of it, had lost McKinley and the tariff, arriving only just in time for money and immigration. “We must fight the battle this year on the same ground. After the workingmen all have employment and a chance to earn an honest dollar—" “Bui the great crying evil, the scourge that is crowding American men out of chances to make a living,”’ shouted the man on the other corner. x * % W « On another corner, two blocks down, was a wild figure with tossing locks, and a voice like a calliope rang: “The political parties crawl around this jssue, but don’t you be blinded,” he was crying, ana then I crossed over to another benefactor of the human race and learned that doctors are enemies of mankind. Listen! “Don’t put your trust in vile drugs, and fatten the doctors. Cure yourselves! The hand of God on your body makes you whole! Pray in faith, and your pain is gone. Look at me. I was sick with an incurable disease, and after the doctors had taken all my money they gave me up. 1 had faith in God, and he cured me."” He looked as though he believed it, but there are pleasanter faces to look upon. I tprned toward home. The doors of halls were opening and pouring forth® the crowds. Keeping in p behind one group, I learned that: “They want to rule the country. They are not true Americans, We must fight them with their own weapons and drive them from our midst. They are bandea and they will do anything against a man who is not of their own faith,” Pretty bad people, I thought. I walked slower and let another group from another hall get ahead. “They are enemies to the constitution, traitors to their country. They have banded themselves to get all the country for themselves and they will do anything to a man who is not of their faith.” ‘Were these the same bad people or some more? I was tired. Too much learning would make me mad. How ever should 1 reconcile or assimis late all that I had heard in that one even- ing? My head went round with nonsense. ‘What was that standing under the lamp- post? A man—and evidently waiting for me. Was I at last to have an adventure? He was short and I had faith in my good right arm, and if he wanted to peril his soul for the sake of the two nickels in my purse he was welcome to them. If the worst came I oould stagger him with all my new arguments. He was a comer, and I had prom- ised to listen to every speech, even *Your money or your life.” “Please, dear lady, could you spare me a dime to get a bowl of soup and a bed? I've walked the streets hunting for work till I'm like to faint at your feet.” I had given un- questioning faith to each and the last orator should take the dime instead of the faith. 1 gave him the two nickels and he called down blessings on my lovely head. I did not watch to see where he went; I did not Wish to know. He vanished in the fog and 1 wert indoors, my mind in afog as dense. Orive Hxypex. New Process of Washing the Blood Washing the bldod 1s the latest remedy or diseases brought on by or causing a sluggish circulation and law state of the blood. The washing process is performed by plain salt and water From a pint to two quarts of water is injected into the system by means of an ordinary hypoder- mic syringe. A vein is opened in the arm of the pa- tient with the usual antiseptic precau- tions, and the salt water injected in large doses. A profuse perspiration and general activity of the secretory organs jollow, carrying away the noxious matter present in the blood, The new remedy is recom- mended by several dootors in papers read recently before the Academy of Medicine in Paris, and has been successfully em- ployed in numerous instances. In cases of an@mia, typlioid, bemorrhages, sudden shock and even in cases of intoxication, this blood washing, it is said, works won- ders. For some years surgeons have used a taline injection in cases of collapse after an operation. It is the most powerfal tonic known, and has saved many lives* ts efficacy in ordinary diseases has, how- ever, only recently been discovered. Modern medicine has a tendency to re- sort to simple methods which recognize the all-curing powers of water. Washing the stomach, as practiced by several New York pnysicians, is of very recent origin and is considered invaluable in cases of indigestion. A simple bath of warm water is often all that is necessary to re- store the stomach to its normal condition, by removing the puisonous waste prod- ucts which are not thrown off by the secreiory organs. By means of a soft rubber tube put down the throat water can be poured into tue stomach and sie phoned out again. To wash the blood is of course more difficult, as the water has to be injected into a vein. Itis well known that the blood of & frog can pe drawn off and the blood of another frog substituted without greatly incon- veniencing the creature. It was then found that a salt-water solution can be substituted instead of blood, to a consider- able extent, at least, and the frog will live and be as sprightly as ever. This fact first gave the scientists the idea of inject- ing an artificial serum into the veins of a human being, either anzmic or intoxi- cated. The new remedy is very simple in its action and can always, it is said, be employed with safety.—Washin gton Even ing Star.