The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 25, 1896, Page 16

16 THE SAX FRANCISCO CALL, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 1896. 25, 7 was a simple cobbler, but he was / content. Hisshop on a side street Y was narrow and low; in it he labored from mor z until night, sewing, pegging, cutting, mending the shoes of the people of the vicinity. Seldora it was that he received an order for a new pair; that was looked upon asa Godsend, but withal his cobbling brought bim enough to support himself and hLis family in a humble way. All day long he cobbled and sang; his ¢ were few and light; he had a sufficiency of work of its kind; the pay- ments were small but sure, and when the day closed he was accustomed to lay aside his work, take up his lunch basket, lock his shop door and trudge home in a pleas- ant frame of mind—for would he not be met at the gate by two. little pink and white faces, two pairs of bright eyes, and would not two treble voices loudly pro- | claim that papa was coming, and would “But this is more than enouvgh to pay for both material and the labor.” “Very well, you shall keep it then. You need not hasten to make them.” And before Cosmo could recover from his surprise or regain his breath to make reply his visitor was gone. He arose and stepped to the door, to see the stranger enter a fashionable carriage standing not far away to be driven rapidly away behind a pair of prancing grays. The next day Cosmo, the cobbler, was sewing inaustriously. But as he worked upon that day his usual merry song was lacking. He was thinking, thinking ot his handsome, fashionable customer, wondering at his words. Then his thoughts reverted to home, wife and babies, to the unusual sum which he had received the day before, to all the many things it would buy, and again the merry song arose to his lips. THE COBBLER’S HAPPY not a gentle, sweet-faced little woman | meet him at the door with a wilely kiss? | Then with akeen appetite and untroubled conscience he would sit down to the tabie | whereon steamed the plain but whoie- some food, with no fear of the effects of indigestion. He was sewing away one morning, and as he labored he sang right merrily. A form darkened the doorway, and as. he glanced up with a pleasant smile to ad- dress his caller and receive kis little quota of work, he started with surprise. Nearly all of his customers were of the poorer laboring class. Few well-dressed peovle found the way to the liitle shop of the | side street. But this visitor was fashion- ably dressed, with snowy linen, and the | little jewelry which adorned his person appeared delicate but most valuable. Cosmo, the cobbler, bade the caller good- morning and invited him to be seated on the solitary guest chair--a leathern-bot- tomed affair, very rickety on its legs, readered safer by a few interwoven wires— in a tone with a trifle less of its usual gra- ciousness caused by momentary surprise and embarrassment. But the visitor did not note it; he ac- cepted the seat, and gazing with a peculiar expression into the young cobbler’s face, he remarked: “You seem happy as you work, my friend.” “Yes, I always feel happy at work, and 1 sing because—well, I feel pleasant, and it makes laber lighter to sing.”’ “You sing because you are content, then?”’ **Yes,” replied the cobbler, looking into | the visitor’s face, wondering if he had come in merely to ask such stupid ques- tions. “Really it does me good to find one con- tent, and that with a humble lot.” The cobbler glanced again at the face opposite. It was the face of a man as yet young, perhaps 35, a face whereon care and dissipation had marked heavy lines, a face remarkable for noble, manly beauty and the innate stamp of good-breeding, yet upon which a settied look of discon- tent seemed to rest—the face, in fact, of one in il accord with the world. “Do you find contentment so fare, then?” The visitor turned his head and sighed as though he would hide an unpleasant truth. Then he turned without reply, and removing an elegant boot he directea the cobbler to take his measure for a new pair. The order was for the best of mate- rial, something Cosmo had never found necessary to keep in stock, and whica would cost more to obtain than he was ac- customed to receive for the making. The visitor seemed {o divine the thought of the artisan, for he drew forth a purse and taking out a larze piece of gold he laid it upen the cobbler’s knee. “Here is a deposit, a sum in advance to secure you.” DREAM INTERRUPTED. Aslhis voice sounded out 2s though it was a n cull to summon the genii, the visitor of the preceding day stood before him. Cosmo was confused. He had purchased the leather, the very best to be found, put he bad not yet commenced work upon the boots. The visitor evidently divined his embarrassment, for ke produced a pack- age containing an elegant pair of boots, very little worn, which he directed to be repaired. Then he sat down upon the leathern-bottomea chair and in an easy manner began to converse. Such was his tact that he speedily put Cosmo at ease, leading him on to talk of himself, of his home, his family, his labors, his hopes. At last he arose to go, as he glanced at his watch. “Really, Idid not suppose I had been here nearly two hours. The time has seemed very short spent in such pleasant conversation.” “Iam glad, sir, to hear that the conver- sation has been pleasant to you. It has seemed very short to me, t00.” “Then I shall come again, if it does not discommode you, and we w:ll resume the subject. I am a sort of philosopher, a student, and my search is to find true contentment.” “You are always welcome, sir, if the poor conversation of a lowiy cobbler can interest a fine gentleman like yourself.” *‘You interest me more than you imag- ine, My name is Rico. We shall be friends, then, shall we not? And you may invite me some day to dine with you to meet your family, after which you ana your family shall come to dine with me.” “You bonor us, sir, but I feel that our little home, its poor furniture and our plain focd would rot please you, sir. It cannot be anything like the things to which you have been accustomed.’ “But it would piease me, and the food you are accustomed to eai, the table set in the everyday manner in which it is when you sit down, everything usual and cus- tomary, in fact, will please me most.” “Very weil, sir, we will be honored in- deed. You will come and dine with us?” +‘With great pleasure. When?" “To-morrow ?’ “Why not this evening®’ “Well, my wife will not be prepared; there will be only—all the better.”” Ana the young man clapped his hands and broke into a pleasant light laugh which seemed to drive away some of the sad lines about his eyes and mouth. “It is agreed, is it not? and to-morrow you shall dine with me.”” At the appointed hour Rico appeared in the shop door with a smile. Cosmo noted that he came without his carriage and they trudged along togetner until they arrived at a little vine-covered white cot- tage near the outskirts of the town. The two babes with flaxen, curly locks cried out, ‘“Papa is coming, papa is coming”; but their joy merged into awe ss they noted the handsome, well-dressed stranger who accompanied him. The sweet-faced young wife, with her sunny, plainly parted bair, in her simple, neat attire, was not embarrassed at all as her husband awkwardly presented the ele- gant Rico to ler. The dinner was ready and in the space of a few minutes, during which Cosmo was engaged in making his toilet, was placed upon the table. - Mrs. Cosmo pre- sided with grace and sweetness over the plain but very savory repast. “Really, a jewel of a wife,’’ thought Rico. *1knew this pleasant voung cob- bler, poor artisan as he is, could not have a vulgar wife.”” The meal finished, the family, with Rico, repaired to the little front roon, fur- nished economically plain, but most neat and tasty. And now all had seemed to forget the elezince of their visitor and to Ee) work constantly; to have hands as soft and white as those of Rico. For the firsi time the cobbler felt dissatistied with his lot; the work seemed tedious, the day seemed endless, and in place of his usual snatches of merry song he heaved deep sighs. But his unpleasant, disturbed thoughts were at last arrested by the sound of wheels before his door, and, looking up, he saw Rico seated in a resplendent coupe drawn by a pair of shining black horses. Rico alighted, greeted Cosmo most graciously, and as soon as the little shop was closed showed him to the coupe, gave a few words of instruction to the coachman and also stepped in. Never in all of his poor life had Cosmo been able or permitted to indulge in such iuxury. The coupe was drawn right merrily over the pavement by the lithe, shining blacks. Cosmo tried to be light and pleasant to his host, but a strange heaviness was upon him. Soon they arrived before the door of the vine-wreathed cottage, from which emerged Mrs. Cosmo, neatly dressed, looking sweet and pretty, with the two little ones. Then, assoon as Cosmo had made his toilet and change, all entered | From street to street they passed, | tbrough the finest business portion, | whirled along into the quarter of the city | occupied by the homes of the wealthy ! and aristrocratic, at last to enter the | portal of beautiful grounds, where long | sweeps of green lawn, rows of rare trees and hedges of bright flowers led uptoa mansion of brownstone, the like of which Cosmo bad seen, but in a vague way had classed as something of another world, far, far beyond his element. had never thought much upon the mag- nificence of those homes, snd had never sighed to enter them. But now he was about to enter one of the finest, something be had never imagined in his wildest dreams. The coupe halted beneath a magnificent arcade, and alighting, Rico ushered his guests into the house, tirough rooms fur- nished in a style ana richness the simple visitors had never bzfore gazed upon. They entered a large room, even more sumptuously furnished than the halls through which they had just passed. Im- mense lights of speckless glass gave a view of the beautiful groundsand playing fountains, The host by rare tact and grace, with pleasant and deferential familiarity, placed his guests at ease. Apparently he was as entirely unconscious of his rich surround- ings as he had been of the poverty in the home of his guests. Without words to that effect, he conveyed to their minds that surroundings, whether of wealth or of poverty, counted for nething—that in the interchange of kindly sentiments of kindred spirits, alone was to be found pleasure. A servant soon announced that dinner was served, and all repaired to the dining- room with its glistening waxed floor, its huge carved sideboard laden with cut glass and china, the table resplendent with snowy linen, flowers and delicate fruits. A stately butler brought in the courses anticipating every need of the adults, while a maid waited upon the children. treat him like an old acquaintance. The children came to his knee with lessening timidity, as he drew from mysterious depths beautifully tinted cards and pretty trinkets, which gave them great delight. Throughout the whole of the following day Cosmo’s voice was not raised in song. His thoughts were upon his elegant new acquaintance, the aristocratic Rico. Cosmo entertained a suspicion that Rico was not happy. He could not see why he should not be, New thoughts came to him—bow fine it would be to be wealthy; to be able to ride about 1n a fine carriage; to dress in such elegant clothing; to wear such dainty boots; not to be abliged to ‘“ TAKE BACK THE GOLD. IT BROUGHT ME NO HAPPINESS.” /8! i / o/l X '/,’4 Il il Rubo Cosmo gazed about in soulful ad- miration as he heaved a low sigh. “Ah, sir, how happy you must be to live in such a heavenly place, with all these comforts and luxuries.” *My friend,” said Rico, as the old look of care and trouble that Cosmo had noted at their first meeting again darkened his face, which throughout the conversation had been lighted up with pleasure and amiability, “happiness does not always accompany rich trappings. In visiting your pretty, vine-covered home, in the| pleasure of meeting your sweet little family, in noting your merry song, which first attracted me to you, and in observing your contentment and good health, I have thought, ‘Ob, how much happier is he than I; how gladly I would exchange,”” “Do you not think, sir,”’ questioned Luta, as a look of womanly sympathy beamed from her large blue eyes, ‘‘that happiness consists in loving our neigh- bors and in doing good, whether one is porn to poverty and labor or to wealth and fuxury ?"” “Ah, dear madam, you have clearly solved the problem of happiness which I have sought so long, and of which I have only just now found the key, but which as yet I fear I may not quite understand how best 10 use.” The call was at last ended and the party again descended to the carriage. The Lost re-entered to appear again in a few minutes bearing a small, stout sack, and close behind him followed the stately but- ler bearing another, both evidently heavy, and which were deposited in the carriage. In front ot the little vine-covered white cottage Rico alighted, took-up one of the sacks, requesting Cosmo to bear in the other, and as he laid the burden upon the table, remarked: “‘My dear friends, accept this from one who is seeking to make others and him- self happy. Use it as your own, and in its enjoyment and the good it may bring may the happiness and contentment you now know never depart irom your home.,”” And before Rubo or Luta could recover from their surprise Rico bad disappeared through the door, entered the coupe and was being rapidly borne away by the shining blacks. 5 Cosmo became a shoe merchant. Ac- cepting the little fortune which Rico had so generously presented him, under the condition that it was to be repaid in time, with the assistance of his kind benefactor he obtained 2 store in a most desirable lo- cality, purchased a stock and made an opening. From the start fortune seem to smile upon him. His business increased from day to day and larger quarters were ob- tained. Still his business gradually in. creased. From one the number of his em- ployes increased to more than a score. From morning until night, yea, often we!l into the night, Cosmo was not engaged in _straightening out preplexing figures, thinking how best to superintend his nu- merous employes, purchasing goods, pay- ing demauds. Oltea sleep would fail to the coupe and were driven rapidly away. | i In fact, he . : Cananesa bring rest from his labor or oblivion from his cares. His merry song was never heard more. He lost his former appetite, dyspepsia seized upon him. He became cross, irritable. He was no longer con- stantly tender and loving to his wife, the children annoyed him. One evening he came home tired, de- jected, cross and unable to eat. Luta burst into tears, tears of unhappiness, of scala- ing bitterness. *‘Ah, Rubo, I would we had never seen the money of Rico. When we lived in the little white cottage, when you worked at your bench, we were happy. You were accustomed te return at even with a song, a kiss for the children and me; youn were well and content and we had plenty. Now, in the midst of all this luxury, with richer food and prosperity, you are no longer happy and seem to have ceased to love your wife and children.” Ah, yes, it was true. The fond dreams which Cosmo had entertained of being | rich, of possessing a home as heavenly beautiful as that of Rico, now seemed to lose their charm. It was true he had been a better and a kinder man in poverty. It had been such a pleasure to return home at night to play with his. babies who had watched for his coming; he never played with them now and they avoided him—he had become =0 cross. The more Cosmo thought upon it the less did his ambitious dreams seem gold- en. His was a temperament naturally tight and joyful, lacking in the inherent ambitions which render so many unham}y. His days of prosperity had come, but with them he had lost a portion of excellent healih, silenced was the joyous song which had made his humble labor so light, and the home happiness which bad once seemed =0 sweet had seemed to slip away. No, the prize was not worth the pain. So he determined to close out the business and return to his old position in life. He sold everything and seeking Rico, said: “Sir, I bave brought back y. > ur gold. Take it back, I pray of yoyu, f, has brought me discontent and jjj peqyyp worriment and cares. I haye sn.d. 1\); business, and after paying there remain as many thousaygy 4 B have generously lent me. By, 1 shall ,,& use that little fortune in ways to 1,010 all unhappy and shorten oqr k- you the dg bave placed it in & bank vauls 1o ey against rainy days as a competence v Inev, trouble or age may come upop us. ,h) day I return to the little ojq shop of the side street where first [ ¢ my v,«};;a friend, and to the dear lity) o W.\'ured white cottage where we were onco 5 poor and so content. Ifyou seck r bappi- ness you shall always find it [ Rico took the hand of his e friend and tears stood in his eyes, but the o]q. time lines of care and discontent pq |, nzer marred that noble face. ach in his gy way had found the source of trge hapy. ness. % COSMO BECOMES THE GUEST OF THE MILLIONAIRE. Listen! the choir is singing; all the birds In leafy galleries. This is the season when the meadow lark, leaving fence and field, perches in the tall trees and sings his cheery song in the golden December sunshine. The meadow lark is the only bird who sings to us the year 'round here in Central California. Ferbaps this is the reason why we have exempted him from protec- tion from the pot-hunter. Itisan offense against the law to slay a screaming, free- booting jay; even thesaucy, shiny-backed blackbird is protected, for a season; but the ignorant and stubborn opposition of one legislator is responsible fcr the num- ber of meadow larks that, a few weeks hence, will find their way to the poulter- er's stand, and, later, to the tables of our foreign restaurants. * And yet we dare to pose as lovers of beauty and art; we do not see the scream- ing absurdity of all our talk about teing a music-loving people. We subsidize con- certs! Ah, yes, so we do! And every great singer who- comes to the coast is received gladly! Yes; but we cook and eat the only songbird that is distinctively and lovingly our own! But we are not eating the larks just yet. Their turn will come when the close season for game birds begin. In the meantime they are making the fields and forests tuneful with their merry notes. There is one vellow-breasted fellow just above my head as I lie here on the grass with the mellow sunlight sifting down upon me through the waving trees. Who says it is winter? Ah, well, I suppose the calendar-makers know tieir business, and we must concede something of wis- dom to them, but my lark and I are wise, too, and we know that it 1s well with us out here in this “lealy well,”” these De- cember days that are rarer than days in June, Thereisa Sabbath feeling in the still noonday air. Away outyonder, over the bay, hangs a heavy white mist, and the sun’s rays slant through it in long, shining bars, a sign that it is going to rain one of these days. Ifound another portent of rain a few moments ago, a wel- come one, which I made haste to gather, for a big, plump, crisp, white mushroom’ is a treasure not to be passed by when it cffers itself at one’'s very feet. Good barometers l;flthne meadow mushrooms; their appear#nce is always prophetic of rain, - The little children are wisein call- ing them the fairies’ umbrellas. They al- ways spring up just when the fairies are likely to need them. “'Spring up,” did 1say? Tbere is noth- ing instantaneous about the growth of the mushroom: nothing that justifies our fool- ish habit of calling all that is upsiartish, parvenue or premature “a mubhroom growth,” The beauty of a mushroom is TEEEET SINGING BIRDS AND MUSHROOM PROPHETS 2229992992999, mmxumuwxzumm.xug that it is such a thorouzh-going aristocrat that it will not make its appearance untit it is quite ready—until its toilet is com- plete. For it there 1s no hasty pulling on of gloves 4s it rushes to catch a car. It attends to all these details in its under- ground dressing-room. Itdoes its growing underground, and when the fuilness of time is come it pushes up through the earth and doffs its bonnet to the world—a complete mushroom. Any one who will take notice of that phrase, ‘doffs its bonnet,’’ need never mistake a toadstool for a mushroom. The voung mushroom grows in a delicate en- velope that completely covers it. Asit reaches maturity on its appearance above ground this envelope bursts. It leavesa little membranous ring about the stem where it was attached, and fragments of 1t can usually be seen avhering to the top (tecbnically called the cap) of the mush- room. This ring and the remnant of the euvelope are never found on the toadstool. Acain, the stem of the true mushroom is never hollow. It issometimess=olid and sometimes pithy, but if it is hollow you are safe in rejecting it. As a matter of fact, there are, to the ex- perienced eye, so few points of real re- semblance between a mushroom and a toadstool that one wonders how a mistake can be made. Thereis one identification mark of the mushroom for which I al- ways look, and upon the presence or ab- gence of which my decision is always based. This is the appearance of the gills about the stem. Under the thick, fleshy cap of the mushroom are, as all know, numerous pendant, radiating gills, These also appear in the toadstool, but in the latter they join directly upon the stem, while the gills of the mushroom are always separate from the stem. Usually, indeed, there is a distinct and well- marked groove between ihe stem and the ends of the gills. There is a poisonous mushroom with this characteristic which greatly resembles the meadow mushroom, but its g1lls are a beautiful rose color, while those of the edible mushroom are at first white, then pale pink and finally browa. The cap of the true mushroom is thick, firm and fleshy. The outer skin peels from it easily and the flesh does not turn dark when broken. There is a very com- mon little mushroom growing in these parts that I have seen sometimes on the dealers’ stands, but it is not a true mush- room and should be rejected. 1t is small, Wwith a thin cap and black gills. The stem is rather long, not much larger round fhan a dandelion stem, bollow, and has not the ring that circles the plump stem of the edible mushroom. Its gills mevm‘o’mnr?i mushroom, but its gills are mottled, touch the stem, and the whole plant has a moist, clammy feeling. The true mushroom ig never watery. ? Thus much for warning against the mushroom of commerce. The mushroom on its native heath is still more easily recognized. To begmn with, that heath is never a bog. Mushrooms do not take kindly to wet, marshy or sodden places. They grow best in open pastures, where the grass is kept short by browsing cattle. You need never look for mushrooms about the roots of trees, and, in particular, they never grow upon decayed stumps. Thbe true mushroom is larger here in California than we find it in the East, and I have seen some that are fully six inches in diameter, but they are not usually more than four or sometimes five incnes across. They grow in the open, where horses and cattle have been pastured, and among the short grass. They have short, solid stems, with rounded root ends that are easily lifted from the earth. Their flesh is bard and firm and has a fresb, wholesome, pleasant odor. Many of the cases of ‘‘poisoning” that are attributed to eating toadstools in mistake for mushrooms are really the re- sult of eating mushrooms that had grown stale and unfit for food. The ill-effects in these cases are similar to those arising ) A from eating stale vegetables or meat, and should be treated similarly. The action of the true poisonous fungi, such as toadstools and the inedible mush- rooms, is narcotic. The victim of careless- ness should be kept moving, should drink strong black coffee and take large doses of olive oil. This allays the irritant action ot the poison in the digestive tract, and usually acts as an emetic. It is well, how- ever, if a non-irritant emetic is obtainable, to administer it, and medical assistance should at once be called in. Besides the mushroom we have here in Califofnia several varieties of the puffball, some of which are wholesome and deli- cious. Idonot know that any of them are poisonous, and some of the very large specimens, with ‘their big, round heads and pleasant odor, are certainly very in- viting. They should only be gathered, however, when firm and white, and should not be kept long before cooking. To recapitulate: He who woulid be on fln‘ safe side should avoid all fungi not foux growing in the open; should see toit the!t the stem of each mushroom he gathers is solid and the cap thick and fleshy; that the gills are separate from the stem, and that the latter is ringed. The bright rose- colored gills of the poisonous mushroom are different from the pale pink of the touch the stem. Another that dealers sometimes sell 1s about the size of the true euible fungus, and the ring of the former 8 less clearly defined. ~ADELINE Kaars.