The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, October 18, 1896, Page 24

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, OCTOBER 18, 1896. The contributions for this page of song and story by local talent are always en- tirely voluntary efforts, and I'm sure all the boys ana girls fully appreciate the kindness of their dear friends, who are personally unknown to them, but who for | the sake of adding joy to their voung lives are willing to sit down in the midst of worldly cares and spin for them a merry tale or weave a rhyme of glory. Letter-box plum full again this week! and what we like best—new contributors! More boys and girls eager to have a place on our page for their letters. Welcome— we're giad to bave you join *‘Childhood Realm’s”’ band of merry workers. Just be willing to do what you can to make our page interesting; that’s all we ask. Sup- pose you try to send in 'a puzzle of some kind during the coming wiek. We missed the name of Max Selig from our “‘work- ers’’ last week. I wonder what has be- come of Maud Mallory! We can’t spare vou, Maud. F\a)’('ng Salkta q:lal)‘f. By Marie Ghesworth. Washing dishes, Totty, By a table tall, Tatle very spacious, Little Totty small. Cannot get the dishes, Just beyond the reach Of ber pretty fingers, Then we hear a screech. Down come dishes, table, Knives, and forks, and tray. What hes caused the trouble? Naughty boy at play. Leo in the doorway Knows full well the cause; He's been at the window Playing Santa Claus. Mamma’s muff and tippet Borrowed from upstairs, White mustache and whisker, Cause of all the scare. Tippet on his shoulder, Muf upon his head, Mamma comes and sees him! Off he goes to bed! THE NAVBTILOS HN> GHE FLY By Henry G. Ghabott. The sun shone his brightest and the earth seemed to be crowned with his golden beams. Over the calm ocean’s vast 2xpanse of water gently gliled a tiny Nautilus. Its Jainty white sail was spread forth to catch each gentle zephyr as it sped onward toward the seiting sun. Now, therechanced to be near by a little Fly, weary of wing and almost helpless, who, when it saw the Nautilus, faintly called out, “Oh, fair creature of the sea, with sail like a snowflake on the breast of the ocean, behold me here, weary and alone; take me into your tiny boat or soon I shall perish.”” *“Nay, poor little Fly,” the Nautilus said; ‘*‘ask me not what I dare not do, yet hate to refuse. Ob, if you but knew the reason why! I travel onward toward a land unknown to you—to a land beauteous and great, where the breezes are sweet as perfumes of the east; where rivers /dimpled with circling eddies wind their way through dense forests; where great spreading trees grow to their lofiiest heights, whose every leaf ghelters a fairy, ana where little birds fly through the air warbling sweet melodies; but I cannot tarry here, for I must awav, 80 fare thee well.” “Nautilus,” said the Fly, *‘can you turn me so heartlessly away when your boat might be a refuge for me? I have trav- eled far and am so fatigued that soon the jaws of the mighty ocean must cloze npon me.” “Come aboard, then,” said the Nautllus, who was deeply affected by this piteous appeal, “but move not aiter you alight, forif you do then evermore am I doomed to sail these mighty watersalone.” The poor Fly, weary and panting for breath, slowly flew down to the little craft and sank exhausted upon its deck. After recovering his strencth he said to the Neutilus: “May I hear your story and the name of the country yoa travel toward?"”’ She replied: “Once I was a fairy princess and lived in a splendid castle built of ivory and gold and bestudded with the rarest and costliest gems of the Orient. Often I wandered through the wildwoods and along the seabeach alone. One day, while out for a ramble, I paused to listen to & bird trilling fortb its sweetest song to its mate, then seating myself on a swaying fern leaf 1 watched the flowers ncdding their dainty heads as if in response to the whisperings of the wind and the murmurings of the sea, and saw the rose blush at the lity's kiss; but while I wa ched and listened and felt my sou! expand with joy at the beautiful picture that lay befors me, the scene was by magic sud- denly changed and the world bidden in impenetrable darkness. Then the weird scenes unfolded by zigzag and forked streaks of lightning that were met before my affrighted gaze filled me with sicken- ing horror. This was quickly followed by a binding flash of lizhtning and a terrific crash of thunder that dispelled the dark- ness and revealed to my startied vision a hideous hag wrinkled and o!d, with eyes like coals of fire and claws like the talons of some mighty bird, who, with grimaces and violent gestures, approached me. Her voice was like the thunder and she was clad 'n the skins of the tiger and the wolf. Her hat was high and penked and on her left shoulder was perched an owl. In her hand she carried a wand entwined with many hissing and wriggling wvipers. Then she uttered a blovd-curdling howl, waved her wand round and round and cried: ‘Waters of the sea, roll onward, and fairy princessthoua Nautilus must be. Thou shalt sail yon stormy deep for one year, and if thou return’st with one drop of water in thy boat, forever doomed shalt thou be to sail on that mighty ocean till wind and storm drive thee to destruction.’” Thisevil hag then smote me with her snake-entwined wand, and lo! I was transformed into the Nau- tilus you now behold; buta drop of water has never entered my boat, and with the favor of heaven, as the sun sinks beneath the sea in all his golden glory, I shall once more reach my native land and reign over my people as of yore.” “Oh, you were afraid I would let water enter your boat,” said the Fiy. “And as for me, I was a fairy prince, and was transformed into a fly; and, O, Nautilus,” he cried, “I am your brother. After you had disappeared,” he exclaimed, “I went through the forestsin search of you. It was night and the moon rose over a distant snow-clad mountain that sparkled like a heap of silver under its cold white licht. As it rose slowly, calmly over the mountain’s brow the stars paled and the dark sky smiled to view the heaven’s queen. Her fair beams shot through the pine trees and I saw a thou- sand elves ana fairies sleeping 'neath every sheltering rock and in every lily’s cup. I heard the breeze sweetly. sighing as it caressed the trees; the brook chatted merrily when it found that the stars were reflected in its crystal waters and the sea sobbed remorsefully for the storm of the eve before. Fireflies, with tiny lan- terns, flew hither and thither, their will- o’-the-wisp-like lights penetrating every darksome nook. But while the nightin- gale's song was wafted to me on the wings of the wind a cloud obscured she moon and darkness reigned supreme. The songster's melody was hushed. Fairies, elves, fireflies and flowers were ail swallowed in the dense, black shroud, After a peal of thunder, amid the noise of ihbe sea lashing upon the rocks, the evil spirit of our land appeared. I felt the earth tremble Leneath my feet as she cried: ‘Thy sister is a Nautilus now, sail- ing that restless, merciless ocean, and thou, O Prince, follow her, I command you, as a Fiy !’ No sooner had she spoken than I found myself transformed into a miserable insect and a great gust of wind carried me far out beyond the shore. I bad flown many, many days when I saw your snowy sail, and you, my beloved sister, have saved your brother’s life.” As the sun was sinking in the west and the sea and sky were like molten gold, with a faint tinee of pink, like the blusn of some timid maid, a fair white Nautilus and a Fly landed on a beautiful shore. But as soon as the boat touched the land the Nautilus was instantly transformed into a princess and the Fly into a prince. Her fac» was fair and her robes were of the color of gold. The prince drew her aainty hand through his arm and to- gether they walked toward a magnificent castle. The sea whispered softly that they had come. It had borne the fairy prince and princess safely home. The wind then tock the joytul-message and carried it to the furthermost ends of the land. Myriads of fairies flew to greet them and gorgeous butterflies caught them up and bore them to their beloved home. The birds all joined in a happy song of welcome, and every glorious flower breathed out its homage ard bowed as they passed. They had returned evermors to rule .over their devoted subjects, for the evil hag was dead. She had been killed by a thunder- bolt\of her own making. Never more did harm come to them, and foraught I know they still reign over their people in a land beyond the sea. éoms E—o_&—ol(mk p By Paul Peters A gobolink went down the street, And there he met Lis brother; You could not tell which one was which, They looked so like each other. Two little gobolinks had a dispute About the color of a newt. One said it was black, And one said it was white, 80 they ended it up .With a great big fight. ——————— “Tell me,” said a lady to an old soldier}] *‘when you were in the aimy, were you cool in time of danger?”’ “Cool?" answered thé truthful veteran. ‘I fairly shivered.”—Boston Transcript. FPSPPY TALES NO. 4 By Olive Heyden HOW PUPPY DID HOUSEWORK. Such a busy dog was he. Hours were spent by him in scampering up and down through the basement—'‘taking a walk,” we called it. Sometimes when we had company a terrible racket wouid take place under the parlor, and we were forced toexplain that it was only “puppy’’ sweep- || ing the floor of the basement. Then the company would be puzzied. How could a dog sweep? Well, this was how. He had an olé broom down there, and when he took the notion he would catch the handle in his teeth ana drag the broom up and down, up and down. He seemed to enjoy this ever so much, and did it every day, s0 we said: “Of course he’s sweeping his house.” Then there was the fur rug that he slept on. Every day the sun shone bright our funny little doggie would drag the rug out into the yard and shake and shake it till the fur just flew. Then he'd spread it in the sun. All day long he would leave itand at night carry it back into his box. Now, don’t you think we were right when we said he aired and made bis own bed ? He piled up his dishes, too. Alice was not very careful about bringing up the plates on which his meals were served, so often he bad three or four down tuere be- sides his drinking pan. The funny little fellow would pile them 2ll up, and usually ended by tipping his drinking-water over them. If he had had a few lessons I am sure he could really have been a dish- washer, . I had a great time keeping the clothes out of his way on wash days. He wanted to carry them all upstairs. I'd miss a stocking and maybe it would be found up on the porch, or if the door was oyen it would be sure to be in the kitchen. ButI must save the rest of Puppy’s work for a CHE HABNCED CASCTLE. PART IIL By L. M. Robbins. THE MYSTERY. ‘When the spellbound girls turned from the windows they saw that some of the party had spread the ‘“splendid’ lunch, and great was their delicht over the idea of dining in the romantic old tower. After much chatting and laughter the hungry young folks were finally all seated on the floor and went to work with such a will that sandwicnes, eges, fruit, milk, cake and nuts quickly disappeared. “Now for something else!’”” Alice ex- | ) i |;-:'| i { b Tiis y ¥ // ” 7 i i 1} Little Peck-a-Boo comes tripping Round the corner of the stalr, Peeking from behird the table, Round the sofa and the chair. FirstI see the golden ringlets, Then a pair of starry eyes, Sweet with mirth—with laughter shining, To huve noted my surprise, As the rosy lips half-parted : Say in full sweet baby tones, “Peek-a-Boo—I see 'ou.” claimed. *‘Oh, Harry, suppose you tell us why there is so much mystery attached to this place.” “Very well,” answered Harry, with an air of great .importance, and then pro- ceeded to relate the following story: “Once upon a time there lived a very wealthy 8janiard, who, away back in the forties, vuilt this grand ‘Mansion of the Hills,” as it was then called, and many a high revel was held here by him and his boon companions. But one day, after a long absence, he brought to this then beautiful place a fair young bride. Vi ;///// - /fi%{ I/ }////lz '/')I i ) £ LITTLE PEEK-A-BOO. By Cornie L. Bartlett. L GOLDEN DAY Maurice—*“ Say, Jimmy, what’s the matter? Got the mumps?” Jimmy—*“Naw! Got a new bicycle and tried to blow up the tire.” “Now the owner of the castle was really | bright, earnest way. And for the first time a wicked smugeler, but his lovely wife was in ignorance of his true character and was as pure and good as she was beautiful. “One daythe Spaniard bade his wife a loving farewell, telling her he nad to go away from her on a long journey. Tears sprang to her eyes and she begged to be allowed to accompany him. He paid no attention to her pleading, for he feared if she traveled with bim she might find out the dreadful truth and refuse to live with him any longer. “*So he started alone—away across the ocean to a little island, where in a cave he had hidden his ill-gotten treasures. “After a weary time of waiting for the young woman he returned with many rich gifts for his loved one, who greeted bim with such innocent glee that heshud- dered as he thought how her love would turn to hatred if she knew the truth, and he became furious-with a tumult of angry passions at the very sight of her purity. “She must never know that the hand she fondly kissed was the hand of a robber and murderer! “The only way to prevent this was to sacrifice her life. On the very night of this return he took her to that dark room behind you, Alice, and soon she was a corpse.” “Ugh,” cried Alice, “you horrid boy!" as she changed her seat to one facing the dreadful door. “Years afterward a party of tourists found her bones, and so the story goes that every nizht when the old clock in the villuge strikes the hour of midnight a beautiful young woman dressed in white is seen to swiitly glide past these windows into the darkened room, and then they say that moans and doleful sighs fill the air until break of day.” With these words Harry looked cau- tiously around as if he expected the ap- parition to appear at any moment. “I’ve heard a better story about it than that,” remarked Phil Barker, a little jeal- ous of the admiring glances cast on Harry by the girls, when he had finished his sensational story. “Ob, let’s hearit!” they cried all at once. (CONTINUED NEXT WEEK.) RICHARD J.VIRCERT THE BOY GLOBE CIRCUMNAVIGATOR. He came to Mariposa Wednesday even- ing, and, after presenting his numerous undeniable credentials, was entertained at our best hotel and given free use of the livery stable. On Saturday the Gazette contained his picture and a little sketch of how a boy of 15 had traveled without money over the whole world and was now returning to his home in New York. Then on Sunday morning [ had the good for- tune to meet him. It was a meeting that I shall never forget. For it is not “what he does but what he is” that wins him courtesy everywhere, that keeps him happily away from the money mazes of the present month. He needs not gold nor silver, but just his .rank smile, clear blue eyes, quick unself- Sometimes when the shadows lengthen And the saddened thought descends, That the web of life I'm weaving May prove only tangled ends. Presto! change! away with sadness! Ab, those tumbled curls I see, And I think with joy exultant Life is sweet for you and me. Round my chalr he comes a-peeking, Says in full sweet baby tones, “Peek-a-Boo—I see ’ou.’” ish manner, warm boyish heart and sturdy little frame to carry him over the waters, around the world, into the homes and memories of princes and peasants and again to th2 arms of his loving, trusting mother. He was running down the street with the Sunday-school children when | spoke to him, and he turned to me with more childish deference than did any of his younger companions. “Do you find no trouble traveling with- out money ?"’' I asked. © “Qu, no, ma'am,” he answered, in his that little word *“ma’am” sounded wonder= fully pretty. “I always ride in the Pull- man. I sent my trunk on to San Fran- cisen, and that is why I look so bad here.” “But why did you come away off here?” “Ob, I always go into the interior. In India, in—"" But my interest was so centered on the boy that I did not care to hear about the countries, *Do you speak French?” *No, ma’am; but I learned a little Hin- doo—a little of aimost every languaze— and I make signs. Why, sometimes I did not know a word, yet people understood men 'What in all the world do you think grandest?” It wasa foolish question and for an instant he seemed puzzled. “The Hawaiian volcano is grand,” he said. ‘‘The crater is about as big as this square, filled with great red, rolling waves and spray. And at times domes of lava rise up and fall over. It is hot then and you can’t touch it with your hands, but I have a piece that I will give you.” Of course, like other ordinary mortals, I have read descriptions of volcanoes, have seen the panorama of Kilauea at the fair, have listened hours to Professor Le Conte on his loved subject, but this child’s eyes threw the reflection into mine. I1saw it vividly, as if we were standing on the edge of that burning sea. Then we went into the church, and, though the healthy young spirits could not be quite subdued, be kindly helped the younger boys with their lessons. When we were out again in the sunlight he looked sober and said: “A yearto-day I was in the Holy Land.” I knew then that a pretty illusion of the children would be shattered. They crowded around him, their little faces animated with love for Christ’s ‘‘beauti- ful’” home. Kilauea was nothing to them. But Nazareth! “It is all beautiful there,” one little boy said. “No,’” he answered slowly. ‘The poor- est little houses you can imagine, all fall- ing on top of one another. It isnot what one sees there that oue goes for. I was at the Holy Sepulcher. That is nice, and there are so many Greek priests.” Just here when I cared most to listen some one called me, ard when I returned he was telling of an adventure in the Red Sea, how the captain had told him the story of the waters opening for the Israel- ites to cross and closing upon Pharaoh’s army, and he, leaning to look for one of Pharaoh’s vanished chariots, had fallen overboard. ‘‘And, but for the captain, the waters would have closed upon me,’” he said, langhing. Many interesting things he told, in all of the others omitting those dear little pronouns “me'’ and “L” Only when he found it was about himself I cared most to hear, he said, with acharming mingling of bashfulness and pride. “ shall be 16 next year and have an ap- pointment to the nautical school at Annapolis. My father was a naval officer and I was born on the Mediterranean. I love the water better than the land.”” “And what is your country ?”’ I asked. “America. My father was a Texan. I have written for the New York Sunday World. Iam writing a book, and will let you see my description of the volcano if yon wish.” I did wish very much, but declined un- less he would bring it, while he, looking down at his dustworn clothes, shook his head. So I felt that I had missed a treat, for if his book is as good and simple as his words we shall all want to read it. “I am tired of it all now, though,” he said in a tone at once boyish and manty. ] want to go straight home to New York.” And that evening while he played tag with the boys I thought of all his bright restless young life, and prayed that God would guide him in the future as he hasin thepast. MAY 8. CorcorAN, Mariposa. JANESVILLE, Lassen Co., Cal., Oct. 8, 1896. Dear Editor: 1am alittle boy, 8 years old. My homeis in Burms, Or. I am visiting my grandma now. She takes THE CALL and likes it better then the Examiner. Ihave a little brother 8 years old, and a baby sister 1 year old. My brother’s name is Leland; my sister’s Mary. I have s cousin, Drusa Dodson. I'm going to send the *‘Children’s Page” to her when I get my book full. Well, I must close, and hope you will be able to read my letter. JOHN LESLIE MORRELL. SOQUEL, Oct. 1, 1896. Dear Editor: My grandfather has been taking THE CALL fora year. Iliketoread it, and think it is the best paper printed. Iam staying with my grandfather, who is a grocer in Soquel. His name is L. T. Hill. My uncle also takes THE CALL in Oakdale, where Ilive. Ishould like to see my letter in the Sunday paper. Isend some gobolinks. I wish I could vote, then I would vote for McKin- ley. Iam aboy of 12 years. Your friend, LorEN HANNA. MARSHALLS, Cal., Oct. 3, 1896. Dear Editor; 1 was very glad to see my letter in Sunday’s Cary, so I'll write again. 1 em not going to school on account of the Salmon Creek school being burned to the ground last ‘Wednesday night by some unknown party or parties. Everythidg was burned, and out of nearly 300 library books only a few were saved. With this leiter I send some of the puzzles that I solved. CLELIA LELA BERRI (age 11 years). OAKLAND, Cal, Oct. 11, 1896. Dear Editor: Aiter reading THE CALL 10-day I concluded to write you a few lines, which I hope will not go to the waste-basket. 1spent my summer vacation on a ranch fiveanda half miles frcm Woodland, Cal., snd hads very merry time. When school began I was glad to get back to my playmates again. I am in the seventh grade of Cole School. My father is a (Rep.) Republican, and strong for William McKinley. Hoping these lines will be acceptable, I am your reader, HAZEL PERREAH. 268 Ninth street. SAN FRANCISCO, Cal., Oct. 18, 1896. Dear Mr. Editor: 1 read the letters in THE CALL, and I wish you would print mine, Iam 7yearsold. I have two rabbits—one black &nd one white. I had nine baby rabbitsand I 80ld seven of them; two were stolen. I 00k my two sisters on an- excursion with the money, and we had a fine time. Yours truly, 1035 Dolores street. LE1cesTER KURTE BLUE CANYON, Cal, Oct. 18. Dear Editor: You may have forgetten that I haye written letters to THE CALL before, but it was solong ago I sm almost ashamed to say 80. .In my last letter I to.d my age, which was 10, and how much I enjoy reading the chil- dren’s pages. I read a great deal of most any- thing I can find. Iask my mamma or papa if I ought to read this or that, and if they say “no,” of course I do not read it. In our town there are no news stands or stores, and the only way we get a paper or book.is from the passenger-trains, They pass here four times & day, two east and two west, ) and a good many freight-trains go by, too. We do not have time to getlonesome, al- though there is not much fun here during the summer, but in winter, if the snow does not get too deep, we have a great deal of pleasure with sleds, snowshoes and toboggans, I1did not try to solve any of the puzzles this time. I had so many lessons in school that had to be attended to at home thar I did not try very hard to solve the puzzles, and I wanted to write my letter in time go it could go into next Sunday’s CALL. Your littie friend, RETHA WALDAU, 8AN FrANcIsco, Oct. 13,1896. Dear Editor: I am a boy 12 years of age. This is my second letter. With it I send some gobo- links from my ink-bottle, who wish to make a bow to the boys and girls of “Childnood’s Realm.” I go to school, and am very glad to lay aside my books for a week, especially my grammar. Ihave a dog named “Duke” and a cat named “Lucy.” ‘“Heliogabolis” was my dear little kitty who died, possibly killed by his name. Hoping my letter and gobolinks will appear on the children’s page very soon, I remain your reader, PauL PETERS. GLORTETA, Oct. 11, 1896. Dear Editor, San Francisco Call: We have taken THE CALL for a number of years, and have always been well satisfied with it. Iam always anxious to have THE SUNDAY CALL to read the children’s page. I have thought of writing to vou for a long time, bu have failed to do so until now. 1f my letter 1s in the paper 5o the boysand girls can get acquainted with me Iam going to write a story for them telling all about my pets. Iam 12 yearsold and am in the eighth grade. Hoping tosee my letter in print, I am hastily, ELsa L. UpHAM. BAN RAFAEL, Oct. 11, 1896. Dear Editor: Iam 9 years old. I am in the fourth grade. We have three teachers, whose names are Miss Batchelder, Miss McDonald and Miss Farrel. Papa takes THE CALL and likes it much bet- ter than any other paper. On SundaysI read the children’s page and find it very interest- ing. Ihope to see my letter in next Sunday’s CarL. Yours truly, WILHELMINA T. SALE. 8AN FrANCISCO, Oct. 12, 1896. Dear Editor: 1t is a long timfe since I wrote to you, but I read the Childhood’s Realm ever since it was published. Every Sunday I try to solve the puzzles, but I have only sent an an- swer to them once. To-day being no school I will answer a few of Sunday’s puzzies, hoping they are eorrect. ALMA BARTH (10 years). PENN GROVE, Cal., Oct. 8, 1896. Dear Editor: Every Sunday I read the children’s page and enjoy it very muech. I have two sisters besides a baby brother 28 months old. Iam in the seventh grade. My teacher’s name is Mrs. Butler. We have iwo ( teachers. We shall soon have some w chrysanthemums. Ishall be 11 years old iA month. Your little reader, CARRIE MILLS. Lv' e 7 I. Behead an ornament and have a corner. II. Behead speeches and have allowances of food or water. IIL. Behead limited and have & weapon. IV. What mountainsare named after agiant? V. What river names a long coat ? VI. What city in Asia might crow ? VII. What city names a kind of board t VIIL. What cape names a fish? IX. A Pied Proverb: Pears teh ord dam 1lips o het diclh. X. I am an animal; behead me and I am a grain plant; again, snd I am & preposition; once more, and I'm a letter and also am the name of a beverage. PAUL PETERS. XL A word square. An example: Each word appears twice, once across and also in the corresponding line down. 1 am ot six letters. My first a masculine name. My second bids ‘‘despair not.” My third brings sleep to restless ones. My fourth is & small portion. My fifth pertains to the stars. My sixth is the plural number of a hard metal. XII. Old sayings. Dropped vowels. spr snngl, snt s smrt sgly sdd 8 wht s fit srd XII. My 1 is in call, not in shout, My 2in salmon, not in trout; My 3 in captain, not in ship, My 4 in tongue, not in lip; My 5 in ocean wild and free, My 6 in neither as you may see. My whole is & city where a man well known Lives and breathes and has his home. CORRECT ANSWERS. 1. Waterloo. IL. A contented mind is a continual feast. III. Swallow. 1IV. Thrush. V. Magpie. VI. Curlew. ViL Pigeon. VIIL Tomtit. IX. Dear, lead, reed, learned, earl, need, lax, axe, Al-xander. X. MEXICO. XI. NINE. XIL Coast, clear, trowel, west, ter Seott. XIII. Bed. XIV. The vowels. Nore—(Type errors appeared in Nos. 5 and 6 of last issue.) Names of successful puzzle-solvers: Alma Barth, Paul Peters, Gretta Cluff, Ella R, Hart~ nell and Hazel Perreah. toast. Wu’