The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 20, 1896, Page 25

B P W ; THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 1896 5 My, what fine story-writers you are be- coming! I just wish yon mightsee my desk; such a great pile of children’s tales lying on it waiting for attention. No time for me to write stories nowadays; too busy reading and correcting for that. Perhaps some of the kind contributors to our page are tired of waiting to see their efforts in print. Please be patient with your busy editor, and some day your wait~ ing will be rewardea. Now, boys and girls, when next you write teil me what you think the most in- teresting event in the history of the United States during the last few weeks. ST How i; ‘)i’aj' Bf°kt'\s Hark! Il tell you all about 1t; How I broke my nice new dolly. Only ons whole day I had her, Just as sure as my name Is Polly. Papa brought her home, one evening, And hesald: “Here's a new dolly For a little girl who lives here, And her name 1s just my Polly.” ©Oh! 1 was 80 very happy! ‘Why, I danced and felt so jolly! And I hugged her ja my arms tight; Such & beautiful, new doliy| ‘When I went to bed, I took her; Took my lovely, dear, new dolly ! For I conldn’t bear to leave her; Brother called me “Stlly Polly.” When I woke up in the morning, There it was, my precious dolly ! Mashed, and broken all to pleces! Just as true as my name is Polly, THE DISeONTERTED X1NG. By Rebecca d. Gradwohl. ‘While things were in this state among the people, affairs were not much better at the palace. Itis true the King was able to sleep, but the Queen was not, ana whenever he fell into a nice doze she woke him up and confided to him the fact that she comd‘noe sleep. And when he seemed insensible to her wakefulness she scolded him. BSo the first nightof his edict was anything but sgreeable. Then the next day the servants were tired and cross and neglected their work. The courtiers were s0 weary they could not flatter the King, The poor usually brilliant Prime Minis- ter was so dull he could not attend to the affairs of the kingdom. And as for the Queen, after vain attempts to sleep during the day, her temper was such that her weary ladies trembled in her presence. By the third day the King was so irrit- able and nervous, he regretted with all his heart, his hasty decree. When he heard the shouts of the people as they ap- proached the castle, he shook with terror and cried: ‘‘Alas, what trouble discontent brings! Had I only been- satisfied with things as they were this had never been.” He looked out of the window and his eyes fell mpon a sorry spectacle. The men were pale and hollow-eyed and so weak they could scarcely walk. The women, who bad come too, were haggard and their sharp voices scolding their ery- ing children, who clung to them, re- minded the King so strongly of the Queen’s reprimands that he shivered. *“What would the people have?” he asked. One man, who had been chosen as epokesman, came forward. “We demand, O King, that we be re- Sy WMy stored to the right of sleep which thou hast taken from us. If we sleep not to- night, to-morrow there will be blood- shed.” The King, forgetting what the wizard had said, replied quickly: *‘Go to your homes. To-night ye shall sleep,” ‘When the people had departed and the King sat in his council-room, a great dread came upon him. He feared the punish- ment might never be revoked. However, he again summoned the magician. The man came and the King said: “Remove this plague thou hast called forth.” “Alas! O King, thou knowest I have not the power.” “Think ofsome way by which sleep may be restored to the people or ere the day passes thy head shall be forfeited.’”’ At this the magician began to think and finally said: “Beneath the sands on the beach naar‘ by dwells the sandman. He alone can bring relief. But only a great sanastorm can bring him to the surface. The castle, owing to its situation, will feel the storm the most. Shall I invoke it?" “Invoke it,” said the King. *It cannot be worse that the present state of things.” The wizard went to a window that over- looked the ocean, and waved his hand three times. Suddenly a terrible wind sprang up. It shook the castle from tur- ret to vault. The sand was whirled around with such force that it broke the windows, and entering the castle covered the beantiful carpets and costly furniture. The inmates were so frightened they crept, into bed. The poor King lay trembling beneath the bed clothes, and the Queen with chattering teeth reminded him that it was all his fault. The storm lasted an hour and was scarcely felt beyond the castla. At its close the King ventured to look mp, and he saw before him a tiny man no bigger than his own hand. His complexion, his eyes and his hair were the color of sand, and his clothes seemed of a sandy texture. On his back he carried a diminutive sack filled with sand, and in his hand he Beld a minute tube. “Who art thou ?”” demanded the King. “Iam the sandman,” was the reply in a gritty tone, and for a moment the King saw no one. “Alas!” cried the King, ‘“he has gone.” “Oh, no; I am here,”” and he reap- peared. “Isimply made myself invisible, forin this form I enter people’s homes, and dropping a few grainsof sand into open eyes 1 produce sleep.” “Good,” answered the delighted King. “And, if you please,” he continued ina very humble voice for one of so high de- gree, “commence with the Queen.” 8o in peaceful slumber the troubles of the kingdom passed away. The nextday when the people were told of the sand- it they declared it was he who s brought sleep; that the evil power of the magician had always exor- cised him and only & severe sandstorm could bring him back. Thereafter, when- ever any cne looked sleepy, they said, *The sandman is coming,”and the ex- pression became a familiarone in the king- dom and finally spread to other lands. S el J ACTK I am sure all the little boys and girls who take such interest in the Children’s Page of THE CALL must be kind to animals. “What makes you think s0?"’ you ask. ‘Why, after reading so many nice letters telling about your pussies, birdies, chick- ens and ever so many other nice pets how could I think otherwise? . Itis for that reason Iam going to tell you a short story of how a dog saved his young master’s life. First you would like to know what kind oi a dog, whether he was black or white, small or large, and whether his name was Tip, Tray or Rover? Well, now do be quiet, like good chil- dren, and I shall tell you all aboyt him. He was a big black and white Newfound- land, with long shaggy hair, which looked asifit bad never been combed, but as grandma many times said, “‘a worn jacket often covers an honest heart,” we shall see that Jack’s shaggy coat wasn’t so bad after all. X It was springtime, in the month of Avril. Here in California we were enjoy- ing the wild flowers, while in Montana the forest fires were raging, burning the im- mense pines and many houses and render- ing a great many people homeless, The 5 L& ' 3 Edifed by ° MarY W.RicriApps family to whom the dog of my story b°' longed was living on a pretty farm, sev- eral miles from the town of Butte, when this prairie fire broke out, P Big, strong men went to work to fight it, but to no purpose,-for it swept nearer and nearer, and the only thing left to do was to flee for life. 3 Theé father and his five children had been trying to conquer the angry flames, too, but they made fierce headway and seemed to" grow more angry all the time, as they roared on in their blazing fury. The father called to hischildren as he saw their danger, and they started to run for their home, but a large tree which had taken fire fell, hemming them in by its flaming mass. They were blinded by the thick smoke and knew not which waysto go to get out. They shouted for help, but in vain; yet not entirely. in vain, for Jack’s keen ears bad heard the sound of familiar voices, and as if he knew the danger he sniffed the air, and with one sharp bark ran until he reached the spot, sprang through the flames, then.pull¢d and tugged with all his might at the youngest child, a little boy 9 years old, whom he found first. Dear old Jack brought his little play- fellow out alive, yet badly burned about the head, and the child has since had to go through several critical operations of skin-grafting. Jack, faithful to the last, left his little | comrade where the fire. could not reach him, stopping only to lap his face, as if he were saying a last good-by to the young companion who had always treated him so kindly. He then started back to save the others, and worked hard and long, but on account of their weight could not carry them out, 50 they perished in the flames. Poor old Jack was so badly burned that he had to be shot to end his suffering. But, children, do you not think he was a grand old dog, a true, loving friend, and that his shaggy coat wasn’t so bad after all? Ido. Crr1a May. GHE ¥OUNG ARGIST BY MARY EATHERINE CROWLEY. About fitty years ago there lived in ‘a small house on an obscure street of Lon- don a boy named John, Although he was fond of boyish games from the time when he was a very little fellow there was one thing that John loved even better than play, and that was to make pictures. The walls of the house, the doors and’ in some cases even the ceil- ings were covered with sketches in char- coal or crayon; and poor John was the worst boy to send on an errand, for he was sure to be diverted by something he saw on the way and would stop to draw a pictuare of it on the side of a building or occasionally on the back of his jacket, which he would slip off for the purpose. This some- times brought him into trouble. His mother was usually very patient with him, however, for she had a mother'sfaith in bis talents, and his -father acknowledged that “after all the young rascal’s pictures were uncommonly good.” Others soon began to think so too. ‘When John was 9 years old a little sketch of his won a gilver medal from the Society of Arts, He then entered a regular class at the Royal Academy, and gamed two more medals. Butall this was long be- fore the opening of our story. He was now a tall, prepossessing young fellow, and some people said he ought to be better employed than in dawdling with colors and canvas. There are always busybodies who claim to be competent judges in such matters. Perhaps in this instance they had a show of reason on their side, too, for, although John had done much clever work since the day his mother beheld his little jacket decorated, not with chalk marks again, but with his first shining medal, his skill had not gained” him anything but honors and encouraging words. His parents were growing old; they had made many sacri- tices that he might pursue his studies, and now they were badly off for funds. “Don’t worry, mother; it will be all right, father,” he told them cheerily. “Keep up your spirits until my ‘Ferdi- nand’ is finished. It is the best thing I have done and cannot fail to bring a good price.” And so they hoped on and he painted steadily, trying to portray his beautiful ideal. The subject was *‘Ferdinand and Ariel,”” from Shakespeare's play, ‘The Tempest.”’ One day he persuaded the dealer to go and look at the picture. The man, after examining it carefully, said: “It promises wetl. When it is com- pleted, if I like it as much as Ido now, I will give you £100 for it.” At this good news there was great re- joicing in the little home. John worked with new enthusiasm. As the picture grew more beautiful every day they naturally regarded it as sold. At last it was finished. John’s father and motbher, and the few friends to whom he exhibited it, were loud in its praise, and the young artist, in high spirits, and feeling already the joy of success, brought the dealer to see it. But alas! the man | had changed his mind in the interval, or he was out of humor, or some detail did not please him; at any rate, he looked the picture over coldly and finally said: “I spoke of buying your picture if I liked it, but I don’t like it and I won’t take it. Good-morning.” Turning on his heel, he was gone before the unfortunate painter could realize what had happened. The consciousness came soon enough, however, and then John faltered, wondering how he was to tell the A bright little chap in the White Moun- tains wrote to his papa in the city the other day the following letter: “Dear Papa: I can’t write to you 'cause I got nothing tosay, and I send this’cause I cant say it. With love, Bos. “Please send some candies.”’—Harper's Round Table. s “Well, Tommie, I hear you had a tutor with you on the farm.” “Yas “Did he teach zon anything ?"’ *‘Yes; he tanght me a little matthew- matics and how to milk a cow.”—Harpeér's Round Table. ~—Youths’ Companion. CAT - FISH. old people. But he was not one to shirk a duty because it was 8 hard one, and so he went to the sitting-room where they were awaiting the verdict with calm confidence. As he entered they felt at once that all was not well, for his face was pale and his hand trembied. “Father! Mother!” he said, “I ‘have failed. The picture has been refused.’” ‘‘Refused ? Impossible!” they exclaimed. “Yes, he will not have it at all. What a useless fellow I am! - Not much help to you, mother.”” John was thoroughly disheartened. His father said nothing, but he could see that I FROM ~OUR LITTLE ONES A THE NURSERY]! it oty i the old man was troubled, pondering how sundry small debts were now to be paid. To his surprise, however, his mother snd- denly became cheery, as mothers do when everything looks darkest. “Never mind, my dear boy,” she cried, laying her hand affectionately upon his arm. “Why should you be discouragea? Perhaps you will get & better price for your pictura from some one else. God has given you the talents of an artist and you will be sure to succeed in the end.” “But how are we to get along in the meantime?” he sighed gloomily. ‘‘Oh, as to that,” she went on briskly, ‘‘we could give up the rooms on the first floor and they would make comfortable quarters for persons coming up to London for & few months. Two or three good lodgers would help to pay the rent, and by being careful and economical we shall be able to manage, so take heart, for for- tune comes when least egpected.’” The next morning the sign “Furnished Apartments” appeared in the front parlor window, and the young artist, after a sad glance at Ferdinand and Ariel, resolutely turned it to the wall and set to work upon another canvas. Nearly three weeks had passed when one morning the brass knoocker upon the street door was rattied imperatively and presently two persons were shown up to the studio. One was a man who some- times dropped in ‘“‘just to look around,” as he said, the other, an antiquated little old gentleman with grizzly hair and beard and a blue coat ornamented’ with brass buttons. This latter visitor was rather eccentric and flitted about the room examining John’s sketches with curiosity and inter- est, and occasionally pulling out a canvas that had been stowed away. He seemed to be very fond of paintingsand to know a great deal about them. OChatting on in a friendly manner he soon learned the story of the “Ferdinand” and John’s dis- appointment. “Tut-tut! too badl” he exclaimed. ‘“*And what did you do with it then?"’ “Here it is,” replied John, dragging it from ‘a corner and setting it upon the easecl, The old gentleman contemplated it for a long time in silence. John watchea him narrowly. At last the queer visitor took off his spectacles and said: “Humph! so he wouldn't take it! Well don’t be discouraged. Your work is ex- cellent and success will come after a while, But, of course, you have still much to learn. Now here is abook,” he continued, taking a little volume from his pocket, “which contains some practical advice to young painters. I should be pleased to present it to you if you will promise to read it.” . John bowed somewhat stiffly and said he would read the book. “Then get me a pen and ink, and I'll write your name in it,”” the old gentleman went on fussily. John opened a secretary, placed the ink- bottle and a quill pen before him, and walking away to the window, stood gazing out into the street. Presently the old gentleman joined him, and put the book into his hands, saying: “Be sure to read it. It will do you zood. Be sure to read it."” He and his companion then took leave, and John, after letting them out at the hall door, again climbed the stairs leading 10 the studio. “What a strange old fellow!” he said to himself. '‘Oh, here is the book he left. Will people ever learn that the most help- ful words to young artists are those writ- _ten upon a check?”’ ® As he opened the booka bit of paper fluttered to the floor. John picked it up and gazed at it in bewilderment. It was a check and for a hundred and fifty guineas, with the old gentleman’s signa- ture atthe end. On the fiyleaf of the littie volume were written a few words, saying that the money was offered for the *Fer- dinand.” *Bravol” cried the youth, recovering himself and leaping down the stairs several steps at a time. ‘‘Father! Mother! The picture is gold 1" Then, striding to the front parlor win. dow, he took down the card which adver- THE COOKING CLASS. » 2 N tised “‘Furnished apartments and tore it into bits. His mother never had ocoasion to put up another, for from that day her boy’s pictures sold faster than he could paint them. 8 Who was_the antiquated gentleman in | the blue coat and brass buttons? | It was Mr. Ellison, the generous patron | of art, who bequeathed a collection of | paintings to the Fitzwilliam Museum of Cambridge, ir England. And who was our friend John? None other than the famous painter, Sir John Millais, who sometimes tells this story to his young friends when the work they have undertaken seems unsuccessful and they begin to be discouraged.. outh. ST A Mrs. Pilgrim—Now, these boys are sister’s. The Census-taker—No, you mean brothers. Mrs. Pllgrim—No, sir, I mean just what I say; they are my sister's. She lives nextdoor in the red house.—Christian Advocate, CoLLEGE PARK, Sept. 11, 1896 Dear Editor: Every Sunday I take great pleasure in reading the page entitled *In fChildhood’s Realm,”” published in THE CALL, and I hope the letter which I now write will appear next Sunday. My father was a Grand Army man, but he is now dead. He passed into eternity on last Christmas day. I have a great desire for learning and my ambition s to become a fine dentist, and I hope I shal mother is & poor widow, & ck one at that, and the chances are that I shall not be able to femain at my studies as long as I should like to, | I send you a: letter written by my three- year-old baby sister. I go to the Santa Clara College, and, of course, I think it the finest school in the county. If Iam able to keep on I shall gradu- ate in four years, whenI am just17. Ire main yours truly, EDWARD F. OSWALD, BLENHEIN, Cal, ept. 10, 1896, Dear Editor: As I have found'the answers to the puzzles in last Sunday’s paper I thought I would write and send them. My father has taken the San Francisco CALL for the last year, and 1like 1o read the “Children’s Page,” as the stories are interesting. Ilive near the Pacific Ocean and godown on the beach to look for shells. Sometimeés I go in wading and bathing. I attend schooi every day and have to walk about & mile. Hoping to see my letter in next Bunday’s CALL I remain, your little reader, Lizzie M, WIENKE. Blenheim, San Mateo County. oy VENTURA, Cal., Sept. 10, 1896. Dear Editor: My papa takes the San Fran- cisco DAILY CALL. He told me that if I would write a story good enough so that you would publish it he would give me 25 cents. If this ons is not good enough I shall try enother | one. Iam 10 yearsold and in the fifth grade | atschool. Yours truly, FLORENCE KAUFFMAN, PENNGROVE, Cal,, Sept. 10, 1896, Dear Editor: 1have seen so many letters in THE SUNDAY CALL written by children, but none from here; so I concluded to write one. Ishall write you apout my pets. I have & pair of old rabbits and two little ones, whose | names are McKinley and Hobart, and they are | getting along nicely. i1 also have a liitle | black dog named Nig. I think Ishall have to close, because this is my first letter to a paper. Iremain your little reader, WALTER HOADLEY. P. 8.—I hope to see my letter in next Sun- day’s CaLL. W.E H. ’ BAN FRANCISCO, Sept. 13, 1896. Dear Editor : I1am a boy, 12 years old and go to the John Swett Grammar School. Iam in thesixth grade. I should be very pleasea if you would publish this letter in THE CaLL. My mother takes THE CALL and I like the | Childhood’s Realm very much. I send with this letter the answers to puszzles Nos, 1,4 and 7. I hope they are right. I will close now, for my letter is gotting long. From your constant reader, BERTHOLD HEWS. 524 Fulton street. | P, 8.—I like R. Maud Mallory’s stories very much. BERTHOLD. BAN FrANCISCO, Sept. 12, 1896. Dear Editor: 1 am a little girl 11 years old and my uncle takes THE CALL and likes it very much. Igo to the St. Boniface School and I am in ihe fifth grade. My pen is nearly worn out now, so I'll close my letter, Your ever- lasting reader, LOUISE BRUCKNER. P.8.—I hope it will be published in next Sunday’s CALL. —_— y 8Ax FRANCISCO, Sept. 15, 1896, Dear Editor: Tsm a litle boy 10 years old. Igo toschooland am in the fourth grade. I enjoy reading the Childhood’s Realm very much. 1havea little sister 5 years oid, and we have nice times playing together. Iam going to have a vegetable garden next year. I shall try to write a longer letter mome day Your friend, ALBERT ISACKSEN. 2526 Post street. SAN FRANCISCO, Sept. 9, 1896. Dear Editor: As this is my first letter to THE CALLI thought I wonld write yon onme. Igo to sehool and am in the fourth grade. .Ilike to £0 to school. I bave a littlecat at home named Tommy. Ishall close hoping to see my letter in print. Iremain your friend, I s -.'J’i/%j AR THE LITTLE PUZZLE-SOLVER OF CHILDHOOD'S REALM. Secluded far from every sound That might distract her mind, TUpon a tiny table round Her elbows both reclined. ‘With eyes cast down and pensive brow She scaus the puzzies all; She only thinks of, lives in, now The Chlldb00od’s SUNDAY CALL. Her pretty mouth 1s open wide. A wealth of golden hair Waves round her forehead, all untled— Her face Is passing fair. Upon both hands doth rest her head, One leg scross her knee, Ot puzzledom before her spread She solves each mystery. AL J. Sxlte. L My first in fights was used of old. My second coins the yellow gold. My whole, wherever it is found, A pleasant odor breathes around. M. Reverse partof a ship and get an onion- like plant. 1IT, Reverse “stumber” and get “‘strips.” IV. What is the pleasantest ax 2 Name of a ¢ brated Quaker is my first. 2 insect. My whole is & flag. VL. Hidden ds. (a).He bows icily to the minister. (b) The general telegraphed, “Send me succors. I-can hold the town a little longer.” (c) The boatman, in a trice, landed the passenzers safe. . VII. What word? Ants under Din G. VIIL Crate onI. What word? IX. My 1 is a vegetable, My 2 is an insect, My whole is the name Applied to a class of people. X. Behead s manger and have a slender curved bone. XI. Crossword enigma. My 1 is in rise but not in fall. My 2 is in Peter but not in Paul. My 3 is in pup but not in dog. My 4 is in tree but not in log. My 5 is in eat but not in drink. My 6 is 1n mind but not in think. My 7 is in bell but not in ring. My 8 is in read but not in sing. Now look for 9 in happy year, and then you'll have the word that's here. Correct answers to puzzles in last number: L Nothing. II. A quarter to two. IIL Washington. IV. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them, Volley>d and thundered. —Alired Tennyson. V. Hear—ear—are. V1. Care—car—are. VIIL Dear—read. VIIL Beet—sperm—September, IX. Morning—glory—Morning glory. X. Sapphire. Correct answers to vuzzles of September 6 recefved from Lizzie M. Wienke. For Septem- ber 13 from Alice Bell, Pearl V. Taylor, Ber- thold Hews, M. J. Selig, Gretta Cluff, Lou Par. sons, May E. and Teresa M. Peters. NEW TO-DAY. SOLE PACIFIC COAST AGENTS COLUMBIAKIDGLOVES Alargestock of Newest Fall Shades, just in. Every pair fitted and guaranteed. MONROE KID GLOVES (2-CLASP). All the latest shades. Every pair fitted Best $1 Glove .= World. ON SALE AT BOTH STORES. DRESS GOODS (AT MARKET-ST. STORE ONLY). For this week wa offer some unusual bargains in’ New Fall Dress Materials. A fall suit pattern of Fancy Armure Suitings, all new colorings, warranted silk and wool, $3.50. A full snit pattern of German Boucle Suitings, strictly all wool, in all staple colorings, black rough effects, $4.00. A full suit pattern of French Novelty Suitings, solid colorings, with black nig- ger-head effects, scroll and checkered de- sigans, all pure wool, 40-inches wide, $5.00. A full suit pattern of Ecroyd’s Finest Black Goods, in satin Berber grounds, with small, neat patterns; also large, styl- ish, Wave and Ripple Eff:cts, warranted all wool, 41 inches wide, $4.50. RosE MAY SHIELDS (age 10 years). ‘The following words were incorrectly spetled by some of my little letter-writers last weak: Ramble, continued, independence, meadow, puzzle, uncle, much, Sunday, burglar, 1220-1222-1224 MARKET ST.