The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 20, 1896, Page 16

16 THE S FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 1896. THE STRANGEST SCHOOL DISTRICT IN AMERICA A few weeks ago a little, modest peti- tion, on paper as white as the wing of a seabird or the wandering foam, drifted in before the Board of School Directors. In brief, its message was, “Send us a school- teacher for our little children, and we will pay the salary and furnish board.” The pathos in this little petition could pot be understood without a knowledge of the environments of the petitioners and of the children for whose welfare they are so- licitous. : Burrounded by the deep Pacific Ocean lies the South Farallon Isiand, the larg- est of the Farallon group. Its shores riseabruptly and form an eternal barrier of stcne against the waves which thunder against adamantine ramparts. Devoid nearly of vegetation, and swept ceaselessly by the winds from north, south and west, it is Jike a stern and frowning outpost established for the safety of the white- winged and majestic ships that sweep by it proudly in sunshine and creep timor- ously past when the fog, wraithlike, hovers over or settles down and hides its baried and threatening rocks under a mantle more dreadful than night. Cut off from the California mainland by a broad belt of heaving sea, its nearest western neighbors are the Hawaiian Islands, 800 leagues dis- tant. Here the tempests of winter wreak their full force, and old Neptune, with the trumpets of the storm winds, calls the bil- lows to the charge, High upon a peak, 300 feet above the level of the all-encircling ocean, is superimposed a tall lizhthouse, whose eye of fire, like a cyclops, glares angrily through the thickness and blackness of | night upon watery wastes that, looking to | the north, west and south, seem shoreless. To the east and southeast, uvon a clear night, other cyclops leer at the sea and at the ships which sail or which trail long banners of smoke athwart the sky line, In the fog these kin monitors of like isola- | tion are not seen by the dwellers on the | South Farallon. No, the whole world | ceems whelmed in a universe of impene- | trable vapor, and while the sturdy men who tend the light and keep the siren going are busied at their lonely posts their families, their little children, be- leaguered by all the sea, sleep far away from city joys and diversions and com- panionships. Through the darkness, above the sound of the breaking waves, booms the fog siren, amswered by its hoarse neighbor at Point Reyes, and its blasts fall upon the earsof the beleaguered listeners with the regularity of the tolling of a bell that might be rung by implacable fate, doling out life in periods. There are eight rosy little children on the South Farallon and two older ones. They are there because their parents are earning a living for themselves and their families in the Government service main- taining the light and the siren. It was in their behalf that their parents have asked for a teacher. Ten children are all the pupiis there are in this strangest “school district” in all the earth. They have one room fitted up for school purposes in which there are little desks, benches and biackboards and a supply of schoolbooks, a globe, which represents the round earth of which they occupy so small a portion, and that time-honored institution, the teacher’'s desk. From the windows of the schoolroom and nard by is the engine- house and siren-house, one furnishing the voice which comes from the other, punc- tuating the wash of the waters and the volces of the children and their teacher— when they have one. During a certain season of about three months’ duration bundreds of thousands of sea birds, in great flights, circle about the schoolhouse, with their discoraant cries, and settle upon the barren rocks, where they make their nests, As the children study their thoughts are led to wander by the occasional sight of a passing ocean steamer laden with many passengérs who seem to be free to come and go, and the steamer and its freedom stimulates their imagination before and after it sinks into oblivion below the far horizon line where the sky and ocean meet. As they bend over their tasks they know that there will be no parades, pro- cessions, circuses, theaters, concerts or crowds to divert them later in the day. They occupy a world of their own, educa- tional and workaday, into which outsid- ers very seldom intrude. Weeks may pass withoutadaily newspaper coming to them. Tughboats visit them very seldom, if ever. There are about four great days in the year when excitement runs high among the little sochoolchildren. the one donkey on the island, upon which the children sometimes ride, comes to the only real hard work which falls to his Jot. There coal and supplies to be landed, food, oil and the other articles which are inclyded in what are collectively known as *“light ship rations,” and the donkey hauls a car over a small railway to the engine-house. There are other articles which are not ‘supplied by the solicitude of the 70,000,000 persons who collectively are Uncie Sam. There are packages and bundles and supplies which have been the four families there had only a stated amount of provisions and had no way to immediately replenish their larders, and so they could not entertain visitors. Finally the intruders could not be consid- ered in any light otber than a nuisance. Their coming to the islend was stopped and the little schoolchildren knew that they would be thrown more than ever be- fore on their own resources for diversion and amusement. The best way to point out the environ ments of the schoolchildren of the South THE STRANGE SCHOOL DISTRICT AND ALL THERE IS OF IT. Once every quarter the United States Government, through the lighthouse tend- ing-steamer, comes plowing its way proudly to the island. Then there isa holiday, for the children come in contact with the wonders of that outer world in a famnt way, which is ordinarily only a mysterious, but magnificent and huce something, replete with the joys and ter- rors of real life, the visible outer boundary of which is only a shore le, piled with breakers and whitened with foam. Then purchased out of the stores, which seem 80 great and wonderful to the little fel- lows, and these are admired and wondered at and drive a day’s lessons out of the heads of the sea-beleaguered babies. Some of the children were born on the South Farallon and they have not over one exeursion to the mainlana per annum to remember. In fact, also, as they have grown older their visitors have grown fewer. Formerly there were many visit- ors to the South Farallon. The heads of Farallon may be to show what other schoolchildren may have on the mainland. Trips to Golden Gate Park or the country; baseball gomes and parties; the sights and scenes of a great city, supplied with cablé and electric cars, museums, libra- ‘ries, stores and ferry-boats,"daily newspa- pers and crowds of children im one and every school, with theaters and the occa- sional circus. OFf course there are none of these on the South Farallon. A word concerning the library which the Government supplies them with may be interesting. It is truly a circulating library in the widest sense possible. It consists of perhaps forty books, every one of which is redolent of the salt brine of the ocean, and every one of which has been read and reread at some lighthouse station on the Pacific Coast. Thelibrary ischifted once every quarter. The books which have done duty three months are all gath- ered up when the lighthouse tender comes and are packed up to be taken away. In the place of ihese another library of about equal size, which has done duty atsome otner station, is put ashore. These are not alone books of travel; they are trav- elers themselves, traveled books which have been read by other children. There are no fads to be cultivated—no collections of buttons or election cards. In fact, the periodical excitements which enlist the attention of the children of com- munities on the mainland are kzown only by name and mention to these dawning little American citizens, for there isno polling-piace for voters on the island, and no way for the four men who make their homes off there to vote. There are no bicycle races, for the ground is rough and rocky for the most part. The exterior view of the island is as forbidding almost as is Point Reves. There are rabbits to chase over the rocks and some chickens fo enlist care and attention, and who knows how the imaginations of these children grow? For instance, when the school children of San Francisco, who, odd as it may seem, are under the care of the same Board of School Directors, are looking for- ward to the Christmas holidays and Santa Claus, as piciured and imagined in all the stores with Jive reindeer and Cbristmas trees and glittering tapers, etc,, thereisa time when the little islanders in this strangest school district on earth may hay» sirange fancies, There are no Christ- mas trees on the island, of course, If they believe ip the beavtiful Santa Claus myth then old Kriss Kingle must pe remodeled for them. How could Santa Claus Teach them? Reach them he does. Does he sail across at early dawn, afte, he bas “fliled up the stockings”” and de. posited the gifts of love in city houses, taking passage in a magic shallop and slid. ing away as silently as he came on a kee| ihat leaves no whke? Christmas is apt 1o be a stormy time at the South Farallon and landmgisdifficult, for “stormy breezes blow.” Santa Claus may therefore seem to the little islanders to be rather Nej. tune, or at Jeast the prince of all sailors, unafraid of storms and afraid only that some of his little children may think themselves forgotten at Christmas, The parents arrange this and they are supposed to be the most adept hiders of packages in places where children can never find them of any of all of Santa Claus’ friends ana faithful subjects on all the North American continent. A teacher is wanted in this queer,school district. There haye been several off there. The last two were young ladies who taught awhile and then sought once more the more numerous sttractions of the shore. A gentleman taught there for awhile and he found his little chargesat. tentive, bright and easily interested. Hers isa chance for any one who can appre- ciate the ever abiding majesty of the ocean and who covers a quiet place in which to read and reflect. Goatlsland, which hasa juvenile popula- tion of school age, is unique in this, that its school children daily sail back ana forth in a launch to school. But Goat Island is not a school district and the posi- tion of the South Farallon as the strangest school district on earth cagnot well be assailed. The South Farallon 13 occupied by William A. Beeman, princi- pal keeper, and Cyrus J. Kane, Richard H. Williams and TLewis Englebrecht, assist- ants, and tbeir families, AlL these, with the exception of Mr. Englebrecht, have lived cn the BSouth Farallon several years, There are 250 applications for posi- tions under the Government at that point HIS LUCKY: FiHD The Man Who Discovered the Bald Eagle Mine in Alaska E. F. Schumacher, one of the discoverers | of the famous Bald Eagle mine on Sum- durma Bay, beeween Sitka and Wrangel, fifty miles from Douzlas Jsland, is at the Commercial. Mr. Schumacher and his partners have sold this mine to N. A. Trowbridge of this City for $60,000, and Schumacher, after many years of pros- pecting, bas settled down to the enjoy- ment of the neat fortune he now has athis command. The gentleman was one of the forty or more starving miners who were rescued by the United States steamer Tletis on the | Lower Yukon a few years ago after they | had made sundry explorations on the Yu- kon and its tributar.es, failing to find any gold of consequence. The country was then very new and it was not known whether sold existed in large quantities or not. Mr. Schumacher had previously pros- pected in different Pacific Coast States and Territories. He bad found some small-paying prorerties, and sold them each time for what he could get. The money he usually expended in prospect- ing again. Altogether he has had many strange and romantic episodes in his life. He is a medium-sized gentleman, a type of the free and independent prgspecior, who more resembles the fur hunter of the old days than any other class of men we now have. He appears to be about 45 years old. For more than twenty years most of his time has been given to going over the hills witL pack on his back and outfitted otherwise with pick, pan and magnifying glass. I had at different times made a numpoer of stakes prior to finding the Bald Eagle,” said Mr. Schumacher, ‘but they were small. Iwould take whatI made from them and start out again usually, and try mining again. Once or twice I started in business, but I found [ was ill-suited to it. The free ways I had contractea as a miner illy fitted me to adopt the ways of the average business man, and I soon got out of business and went to prospecting once more. *“When I got broke, as 1 notinfrequently did, I went to work in some mine for a few months till I madea stake. Then I struck out again. ¥ risked everything I bad, and if I didn’t find anything, why then 1 had to begin over again. It was win or lose every time. But this was better and much more independent than sitting around in San Francisco and trying to beat the stock market. I was quite happy all the time I was out, though I had some very rough times. “When the Thetis picked me up, for in- stanee, along with a lot more hungry and ragged miners, after we had spent many months on the Yukon, I had just$9, “*After I had got puiled together a little, and began to feel a little natural again, 1 went over to Douglrs 1slana and began to work in the big gold mine there at §2a day. Iputin tie winter, and then haying & little stake I started outonce more to try to find 8 mine of my owr. “Three other miners, Reed, Robinson and Clark, weve ready to try luck with me. So we al Iset out. We were equipped in the rougk way of prospectors in that country, and getting over to the main- land slowly worked our way along the coast and through the hills, digging wherever we thought we might find a ledge. “In the course of several weeks we ar- rived at a curious place near the shores of Sumdum Bay. There seemed to be a ledge there. There was an outcropping of dark yellowish looking stuff. We dug into it and tbrew mside some specimens, but didn't think muech about them, for they didn’t look very good. “While we were thinking whether we “‘Well, I won't look at any of this, and when vou get your result you will know that it is fair and uninfluenced in any way.' “Then he turned his head the other, way while he chipped off a little piece from each of the ten specimens, “Well, from those he made his assay and whatdo you suppose he got? Why it was enough to drive us wild, and he was filled with excitement as to where the rock came from and the extent of it. *The assay made in this manner showed $300 in gold to the ton, and $70 in silver. You can depend on it we were not long in getting back there and suryeying off the claim. We had left it after driving but a single stake. Now we were going to put down all four, describe its dimensions by @ more elaborate notice, to be duly printed, and also lay off such other claims as we could on the ledge. “We lost not & minute of time. It was plain we had & good thing. When we got back we did all this in the most expe- ditious manner and then commenced sinking on the ledge. The property showed up well. After a time, however, we got out of money, and as we were a long way from any place where we could get such are smelted as we had we bonded the mine to J. B. Haggin & Co. of this City for $50,000. Their expert, Mr. Keller, ran a tunnel that cost about $10,000, but he missed the ledge by a little, and just then the Baring failure occurred and orders cama to close down the work. They wouldn’t take it. “Then Trowbridge came slong. He wanted us to set a price on the mine. By thistime I didn’t want to seil at all. T had become convinced that we had a big thing and that by hook or crook we could hold on toit. . I pointed out that we could borrow a few hundred dollars on it and get a little. prospector’s stamp mill of a couple of stamps. But my partners were a little weak. They were afraid, and thought we had better do the safe thing, 8o we raised the price up $10,000 more, making it $60,000 altogether, this covering the cost of the tunnel development, which I considered as adding just so much value to the mine, and we sold the Bald Eagle out and out. Mr. Trowbridge paid us $10,- 000 down. He put on a couple of two- stamp mills soon afterward, and the whole remaining $50,000 he got out of the mine, He didn’t have to put up another eent of outside money. *‘The mine to-day, too, is worth $500,000. There are 8 lot of black sulphurets in it, and these run as high as $1000 a ton. The quartz is nearly clear white, with iron py- rites dotted through 1t and plainly visible, It is whatis called live ure, and has to be roasted or congcentrated. ¥ 777 o gotlal o .. = \ % DR. DE VECCHI'S GIFT TO THE ART INSTITUTE The littl sees of it the more they want to see. the most interesting. The statue represents “Beatriee Cenci in work of Lamberto Goria, a young sculptor at present residing in Rome and well advanced on the road to guccess. The work received a medal ] , and well did it deserve it. To begin with, the statue is beautiful and the sentiment expressed at the last exhibition of the Italian sculptors, appeals to all. It is as simple & subject as it is possible to conceive and yet there is a dignity about it that at once i ordinary, In carrying ont this work the senlptor has not followed ADY pars ticular school, but has rather made au effort to mingle the classic with tue that has Jately been placed in the Hopkins Insti- tute of Art, the gift of Dr. P. de Veechiof this City, attracts greater attention from visitors as the days go by. Itis, in fact, one of the most atiractive pieces of scuipture in San Franeiseo and the more one It grows on one. A cereful study of the little work of art will readily reyeal the cause of this, althongh it is necessary to search deeper for the great merit, from an artistic standpoint, of the statue; and after all this is Prison,” and {t is the raises itabove the he medern; and he has succeeded, as the work shows. the elegance of the 0id masters about the work, and at the same tlme it is full o! the dash and precision of the artists of the present time. Furthermore, the work is highly original, both in coneeption and treatment. The linesof the figures are good, and the modeling of the drapery is beyond criticism, one might say. with the drapery—there is & woman inside of it. graceful fieure are almost as apparent as if they could be seen, The drapery that falls over them is carefully worked out, but not in the least overdone, The masses are handled simply, but at the same time they indicate every plane and fold of the cloth. But how shall the face on this beautiful work be deseribed? It can- not. There is all the patios, passion and resignation in it that is pos- sible to be shown with clay, and tnere is also an indication of a senti- ment too subt'e to be anything but fleeting. it seems. Every part of this art work has received its just amonnt of atten- tion. Nothing is shifkeq, nor is there any striving to get a certain ef- fect in a certain part at the sacrifice of apother part, Itisan even, conscientious piece of work, from whatever standpoint considered. There is all of Nor does the work end The curves of the Continuing on the biography of L. BE. Myers, the champion runner of twelve years ago, I will speak of the man per- sonally as a preface to this article. He was called the *‘Manhattan Skeleton”— aman of sirigularly spare build, being 5 feet 7 inches in height and weighing 108 pounds in training. He was slender without being bony; good loecking with- out being handsome. His stride in 100 yards was nearly eight feet, and when running 600 yards his style was the most graceful 1 have ever seen. Last week I omitted quite an important occurrence in: Myers' career, namely: Running seventy-five yardsin 73{ seconds, on January 31, 1881. This record was for many years associated with half a dozen others as the best in America, though it is now excelled by Cary’s 7 3-5, but is valua- ble chiefly in displaying the wonderful all- round ability of the man. On Myers' return from Eungland he met the California athletic delegation—Haley, Belcher, Hawes and Sime. In a discussion Myers and Hawes made a match to run 220 yards, Myers to give his opponent twenty yards. Although the match was a private one I managed to be present, on September 15, 1881. The Californian won, but not before Myers had passed 200 yards in 2014, then secing that he could not catch Hawes he slowed a trifle and passed the 220 in 2214. Both remained record time for some years. The course began on & curve for about 100 yards and finished on a straizht. Later Myers told me that Haley timed him (Myers) for one "lap, 220 yards, on the old Manhattan track, a tral alone, in 225§ seconds, and as I trained with him a season on said track, and know how he could tear around those sharp carves, I believe him. Before the fleet-footed Yankee left for England a wealthy patron of athletics and admirer of Myers offered him a medal of extraordipary value and beauty 1f he would return unbeaten. When Mr. Sacks heard of the succession of victories achieved he rashly ordered a $300 trophy to be made—a maryelous creation. The center was a shield—one-half United States and one-half British, of gold enamel and diamends, surmounted by the flags of the two ecountries of similar material. Below this the records achieved by the great runner were represented on gold coins of different sizes strung on a chain the arc of a circle, the 440 yard in the center, When Mr. Sacks received the unwel- come news that his favorite had been de- feated in the 100-yard he realized that he had on his hands a trophy that eould not A GREAT RUNNER Some of the Remarkable Performances of Lawrence E. Myers decided to give it to him for a special per- formance at a joint meetirg of the New York and Manhattan Athletic clubs. A seratch 300-yard run was made, Myers and Belcher of California being the principal entries. It is scarcely necessary to say that the race was a foregone eonclusion. The champion of England and America made the pace a terrific one, and having things all his own way came down the finish a winner by many yards in record time—31)4 seconds. He then became pos- sessor of the finest medal, probably, that was ever won by a runner. For my part, I have never seen its equal any- where. The following week, September 24, 1881, was the oceasion of the annual champion- ship meeting, and Myers has seldom showed off to better advantage than on thatday. He began the afternoon’s work by winning the 100-yard race. As he resched a point@bout five yards, possibly ten yards from the tape, he threw up his hands and turned his head. In this position he crossed the tape in the re- markaply fast time—under the ecircum- stances—of 10} seconds. After winning the 220-yard in comparatively slow time, he went out for the quarter-mile. As might be supposed, he won this by a broad margin, but the time was notable, 49 2-5, for it was the fastest time ever made at the annual championship meeting, and remains so until thisday. On October 8 the American Athletic Club, of which I later became a member, gave a set of games. The meeting was memorable for two things: The first im- portant win of Wendell Baker, who cap- tured the 100-yard handicap from the 5-yard mark, I think, in 10 seconds, but particularly for Myers’ appearance in the 1000-yard run. This was a scratch race. The medal was a particularly mag- nificent affair; the second medal was as handsome as the trophies given the win- ners of the other events. At the crack of the pistol Myers started off at a long, swinging striae, the others falling a little behind. It is to be re- gretted that the time was not taken for each 100 yards of the journey, as it would be interesting indeed to study the details. I wish I had time to describe the race that was going on behind Myers between Smith and Jeshurun, but will have to reserve the incident for another time, At about 600 yards the leader was joined by L. A. Stuart, ona of the fastest short- distance runners of the period, who coached the champion to the finish ina remarkably intellizent and successful manner, The half mile, or 880 yards, was be presented for the purpose for which it was contributed, On Myers’ return he Who Can ‘We have often discussed the guccesses of life. Let us talk a little of its failures, These are fewer than most people think, I doubt very much if any man’s life is en- tirely a failure. Only the man who has never tried is utterly a failure. It was the novelisi Dickens who said, “No one knows whether it was thg victor or the van- quished who fought the bravest battle,” If there 1s any truth at ail in the theory of the conservation of energy; if there is justice in the universe, then it follows naturally that every time we try in the right airection we gain something. We are too prone to judge.failure or success by immediate results, In truth, can we not go a step farther than Dickensand say, *‘No one knows whether the victor or the vanquished is the real winner.” This is paradoxical, but those who wish to will would stake out the claim or not, I looked up and saw a lot of bald eagles sailing around. I had seen them before, but had paid no attention to them. Suddenly it occurred to me I would call it the Bald Eagle mine. It was a good name, 1 thought. I mentioned it to my partners, they agreed to it, and we put down a single stake, with our names on it, to. gether with the name ‘Bald Eagle,’ which we had decided on. ‘A while after this we appeared in Bitka with pieces of the ledge, which we had brought to be assayed. When I took them to the assayer be counted them all out, and there were ten in all. None of us bad been impressed with their appear- ance. The assayer as he chipped off some little pieces for assay: » see the voint—that what appears to be success is sometimes failure, and vice versa. & ‘What, then, is success in life? It is a question that has been answered times without number but that confronts us still. Like the query, *What is truth 2" it remains without a final answer for the reason that every reply which is given is necessarily determined by the standard we choose to apply. As truth is, for any individua', that measure of the truth which he is able to grasp, so must;success mean to him simply that kind of achieve- ment whose value be can best appreciate. But there is another factor too often overlooked in determining what is suc- cess, If we consider only the immediate result of endeavor we shall fail to discern Tell Whether the changes it effects as time goes on. Yet these are oiten marvelous transiorma- tions. Not only may they so amend or alter conditions as to make them seem al- together different, but t ey may even turn them into a contrary nature, Some effects ure like a seed pianted out of sight. Before itg vitality can be dis- played in growth it is doomed to pass through stages of decay. But it will sprout and grow. Finally it will flower and bear fruit, becoming the very oppo- site of that introductory decay. By a sim- ilar transformation seeming jloss may be converted into gain. The failure to take account of this fact undoubtedly tends to discourage efforts that do not promise some speedy return. 1t takes a sturdy faith to plant for the future. The farmer knows that nature is with bim when he buries his seed. He knows that sun and rain have ‘wrought the mystery of growth for untold ages, so waits with entire confidence for the final resuit, But he feels no such assurance that time will resurrect a buried Iabor. He discerns no law of growth in affairs, ‘When his efforts bring no visible result, he therefore counts it simple failure, and judg-s the wisdom of his action accord- 1ngly. The same partial view of success is largely responsible for that decline of en- thusiasm which usually sccompanies the vassage from youth to maturity. Tasks that seemed so easy to the boy drop from the man’s discouraged hand. He thought that wrongs could be righted by a little argument; that moral suasion could Victor change the nature of society. It was so easy to see where error lay. He would show it to others and persuade them to do what was right sy that all might become better and happier. But in spite of pleads ing and argument the world seemed to remain very much the same. Even those who praised his ideas did not adopt them in practice, buc lived according to their various natures as before. How futile his effort appeared as he looked back upon it! How wasted the labor! So his heart grew chilled while the fervor of enthusiasm waned to dis- couragement, leaving him only the cold “ligbt of common day.” Gradually his mind became engrossed in seifish cares, and in place of his old dresm of purity and nobility, he pursued the prizes offered by the world. His thought dropped to lower levels where motives to action could be more easily maintained. Embittered, werbaps, by his experience, he became a clog to progress in place of the active helper he had once been. In a commercial era like our own, itis, more than anything else, the getting of wealth that constijutes success. Craving for material satisfaction is so intense that he who succeeds in gaining it. is consid- ered the victor, He bas won the most coveted prize, and may enjoy a certain bonor with the {uxury that has fallen to hislot. He may also exercise an undoubted: influence upon events, for human needs and buman desires are so largely material in their nature that the wealth which con- trols supply is also able to direct the active energies of men. Hero are palpable re- sults. There is no waiting for the ger- mination of thought, or that transforma- tion in character which would makea paradise on earth. Money cannot buy bappiness, it is true, but did he not resign that dream long ago? Poetry may have turned to prose, but certainly he has won success, Nevertheless, there lingers even in the multitude that holds to this belief a vision, in the abstract, of less sordid.ideals, The artist, delighting in the forms of beauty he has created; the poet, with heart of fire, brincing into the common world ideas from a radiant thought realm that stir the soul to nebler aspiration; the patriot, for the ransom .of a people gladly giving bis life; the philanthropist, pouring all be has and is into others’ lives for their upbuild- ing—are these not admired? And even though this multitude be neither able nor willing to imitate their example, do they not acknowledge that theirs has been the loftier success ? It is the fear of failure that curbs many a heroic impuise; the dread of irrepara- ble loss. If we could only know that noble lives would not be followed by de- feat it would be easier to step into paths leading to high achievement, Labor and difficulty could be borne, for energetic natures find their keenest enjoyment in the overcoming of obstacles, But who is willing to risk all for a problematical good ? The truth seems to be, however, that no effort is in vain, It may not accomplish all that we hoped for, but the result must be equal to the cause that produced it Nature measures out her effects with or Vanquished Fought Harder ? rigid justice. So much cause, so much of consequence, whether good or evil, If we can be content with simplg equity we may rely upon her law, but her processes are slow and haryest time cannot be hurried, History furnishes abundant evidence to this fact. So does practical life that takes acoount of a multitude of unrecorded acts not less beroic, because the self-sacrifice involved in them is never to be known. These are not lost, even though the indi- viduals for whom sacrifice was made re- main ungrateful, for their silent influence inspires ana encourages others to less self- ish living, And the great heroes, the moral giants of humanity, are deathless witnesses to the triumph of lofty endeavor. Scan the long line of martyred saviors. Rejected by the world, scorned by the rab- ble, ignored by vroud fools in haughty places. The fagot and the rack were theirs, too, and their lives went out in dis- honor. But they did not fail, Higher than all others are their names written on the record of human successes, Their ideas have become accepted creeds, Their judgments guide the aspirations of a world. Did the Christ fail in his mission? Surely no greater failure is recorded, if we judge by events to the time of his crucitix- ion. But the seed that he planted in buman hearts grew into 2 mighty tree, Fiom a handful of despised people his fol- lowers became nations, his cross became an emblem of power, and the crucified | man of Calvary, who seemed to have lost passed 1n 1:55 3-5, the best amateur record in the world at tbat time, the old record being 1:56). When 1t is remembered that he had 120 yards more to go it will readily be seen that Kilpatrick’s present time of 3 2-5 is not so yery much in advance, if it is at ail, under the circum- stances. Continuing on the wonderfut runner made every exertion, and weary but determined passed the tave in 2:13, which record stands to this day. No other man has been able to come within 2 4-5 seconds of it, an equivalent of about twenty yards— not less. Cummings, George and Hill have essayed to ‘accomplish it, but in vain. Taking a week's rest, Myers went to Philadelphia and started against the quarter mile record, which in this country remained 49 1-5. As the season wWas get- ting a little late and the day windy, and moreover he did not have the incentive of an international contest to spur imon, he could only make 483;{. However, it was very fast time, and still remains the top of the heap in this country as a record around a eurved patb. It will be remem- bered that the best on recora by Wendell Baker (473{) was made on a straizhtaway. Myers' English record of 48 3-5 stood at the head of the records until 1889, and then it was only beaten the merest frac- tion of a second, or the difference between 4814 and 48 3-5. In the 440-yard run just referred to Myers established a 850-vard record that has never been beaten, namely, 36 45 sec- onds. It will thus be seen that he trave eled the lastninety yardsin 11 4-5 second}. One week later the great runner, dissatis- fied with his quarter-mile time, essayed to lower it on tlie same prounds as the 1000 yards, the old polo grounds in New York, There was a lacrosse match in progress all, drew uato him a worshiping world. Mercre M, Tigns, - and Myers came out between the games, GEORGE D, BAIRD. s