The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 31, 1897, Page 16

16 THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, JANUARY. 31, 1897 PEN PICTURE OF A STATESMAN The New Senator-Elect of lllinois and His Big, Happy Family--The Wife Who Has Been His' Inspiration and the Ghildren Who Are His Pride and Hope. ATOR-ELECT MASON of Illi- | s has a family which runs up ‘ ce the rounds in a step- is of the children when 1 make a series of | to those which ashington -Herald. by the first e is a bunch of three girls eight down to the num- med by papa, and two to his shoulder. The bit taller than nd eighth ha 3 e big son likes | music, the two the baby likes yE nber some years , the thr nd v Mr. Mason—and eve t the other nd not surprised at hig e in it inberit his na | 1 the graces of the er on sunshine ce. Papa T Lewis plays Ruth pl: the gu s the banjo he can get his is the Mason orchestra, as papa gets in uently as it ap- | heod will siand it | two, three or four big enough or little enough to remind him of some one of his interesting circle in the big city which was just beginning to know him and his persistency. The Saturdays and Sundays at home he taught his family the game of politics, and it thereupor happens that the mother, the boys and the girls in it know the State leader as “‘Clarke of Mat- toon, or Oannon of Danyille.” Papa came to the hardest and most im- portant fignt in his life, and, following out | the plan of other years, be wanted Mrs. Mason close at liand for advice and inspira- ton. She went to Springfisld. The girls wanted 1o go, too. They haa helped fix up the list of delegates, and knew all about the preferences of the men from the country districts. There area lot of small children—or at least smaller children than the big girls—and so théy were compelled to stay home and keep house. This'is the way papa and his family get along. They all work together. Papa is the king, and a1l the other eight are the king's men and the king’sladies. Itisalwavs papa against the world, and burrah for papa! United they stand; division brings tears—the sort of division which took Lawrence and Edith in their infancy. Papa took Lewis with him, Lewis being a young man and ihe confidential lieuten- ant in the long strnggle. Heis22 and a 1awyer iresh from the Kent school. Ethel was left a1 home because she is the dean and not make protest. Thisis the only way the household has to make life a real, ble, satisfying joke. apa is notjbetter fun in any man’s home | than he isin his own. Mrs. Mason will | tell you this. It is insisted by both that | ey were married because they concluded v had the right idea on home and were hands in making a home which be more than four w ana a ce to g0 to when everything else was | He was as poor as Job's turkey | se hen he asked Edith M. White in Des Moines to be M He had noth- | ing but confiden aseif, and he had | somehow—as men have a habit of doing— | 1 Miss White to think ths sun rose and | t on He had been a schoolteacler, | but he predicted that the country would | hear from him. He said he would bea ! good hus men have a hebit of | saying iu advance—and he meant it. Papa did not do much besides geiting bis name in the directory for a long time after he came to Chicago. He lived in a cozy flat—all flats ure cozy in the adver- tisements—with four or five rooms and a pleasant, “sunny” bedroom looking ous against adead wall painted white. He was doing court reporting and spending his evenings reading jokes from the joke- books. Mrs. Mason did not see exactly wlat bearings the jokes had on the future or how they were to ficure in making the country hear from the man she had mar- ried becausesne loved him. Papa studied law wien be had time, and one: day the town was electrified—not—by .oticing the | sign of a law firm of which Mason was | the junior partner and a man equally new | the senior partner. It was along about this time that papa was first calied papa, and & son came to belp papa’s jokes light up the sunny bed- room—with one window looking out upon | the broad and white dead wall. Mrs. | Mason kept a stout and confident heart | becanse she nad believed what papa said when they sat huddled up on the sofa out in Des Moines—one of those sofas where there is always plenty of room in the day- time for six and barely space tor two when the lichts are low and the moon sifts a soft glars through the curtains and the head of the household is sleeping upstairs. Mrs. Mason kept papa working for fame, and there came a chance to go into politics. This was the chance for the jokes and ora- tory, and papa went on the stump. Illinois bad never heard anything, like it. He talked in all the schoolhouses, town halls,lodgerooms and meetin’ houses | irom Pecatonica 1o Peru and crosswise, and slipped back to town to talk it -over with Mrs. Mason and jump the one, two or three babies on his knee. Thére was no place like home. It was' the encour- agement he gotat these visits that made the inspiration, and when out in the mud and slush of Egypt he sbut his eyes and kissed other people’s babies because he found under each roof that he visited one, of the girls and therefore successar of Mason in the rule of the home. She Ruth was too busy &t the West ivision High School and she watched the battle from afar. She could not stand it and one day called papa up by ’phone just to see how things were progressing and o get changes for her list of papa’s mer. She is 18, Winifred comes next. Sieis 14 and an amateur photographer. Wiliiam is like his father, whose name he bears, and he has been on the scene of battle for two weeks. William has his eye on the Presidency. Papa likes Roderick because Roderick is 8 and more fun than a barrel of monkeys. Lowell is 334 and is making his beginning speeches from the top of the highchair. His lungs are marvelous—just like papa’s. Heand papa both play the hand organ and have a mouth organ between them. This completes the personnel of the household, the full names of all the chil- dren being: LEWIS FRANCIS MASON, ETHEL WINSLOW MASON, RUTH WHITE MASON, WINIFRED SPRAGUE MASON, WILLIAM ERNEST MASON JR., LAWRENCE GEORGE MASON, RODERICK WHITE MASON, EDITH WHITE MASON, LOWELL BLAKE MASON. Papa has lived in his handsome home at the edge of Garfield Park for six years. It is probably worth $30,000. Itisin one of the aristocratic neighborhoods, and there are but few better in W ashington boulevard. There is a choice liprary, many fine pictures and all the other equipments of a home like papa’s, and homes like papa’s are the best on earth. Tuere is great joy in the house at this time, and all those left at home are busy teliing the neighbors how it happened and answering telexrams for papa, bring- ing congratulatiors from friends in Wash- ington and every place else. Papa has an album filled with all kinds of pictures of his family. The group shown in the picture reproduced with this article was taken from this album, and shows the family as it stood in 1890, when papa was Congressman. The place on the end should now be taken by Lowell, who dates since the photograph was taken, Lawrence, the second from the end, died in Washington. The snap-shot picture is of Roderick feeding the chickens while spending the summer in Patterson, N. Y. It was made by Etnel and Ruth, who had the camera as a present from papa. A rule has just been introduced at all the theaters of Italy by which the per- formers are forbidden, under pain of fine, to receive flowers during a representation, or to notice in any way the pregence of the audience. This will now putan end in Italy to bouquet-throwing in the middle of a scene or at the end of a song. COLONEL CHARLES D. POSTON OF ARIZONA. CALIFORNIA FIELD IDYLS--WILD PLAYMATES The Naturalist at Large Tells a Delightful Story Bbout the Sports of Bird, Beast and Insect-Their Frolics and Their Games—-Some Animals With Solemn Ideas of Fun, and Others Brimming Over With (Gleefulness fiIXMBlNG among the bills, this E morning, I came suddenly, in a field a2 skirting an upland orchard, upon a vast flock of goldfinches. Asa matter of fact, I never before saw quile such an as- semblage of small birds. There mast bave been a thousand of the feathered morsels, teetering upon tall grassblades, hanging. head downward from the dried stalks of last year’s thistles, swinging on the full-flowered mustard, never still any- where—the goldfinch rarely is still. Upon my approach they arose in the air, fairly darkening the sky, and settled upon the bare branches of the fruit-trees just over the fence. It was as if the orchard had suddenly burst into a mass of yellow blossoms. Twittering there on the bare limbs, the Jittle creatures really looked more like flowers than birds. Isank upon tne grass and watched them indelight. They were in all states of plum- age, but compuratively few had their fall spring suit of Yellow and olive, black and white, and these shone bravely among their soberer-hued fellows. Assoon as I became quiet a few vene tured’ down to the thistles agaim, and presently the flock was pouring earth: ward, jumping, tumbling, spilling—it fairly rained goldfinches all about me. [ could almost have put my hands upon one or two venturesome ' sprites who swung close beside me; but I sat motion- less, knowing that to stir would be to see the wnole flock speed aw But what a good time they were having! Every now and then something would happen to set them off in a twitter of fun. The thistle-stalk where two swuug sud- denly broke and the whole congrezation burst into a cborus of derisive cries tbat sounded like per-tuick! per-chicl about, flying with a little quick, soaring motion, in a sort of waved line that is characteristic of this bird. It did not take much to throw them in- to convulsions of glee, any more tjan it does a crowd of schoolboys or a band of young colts. The crowing of a cock in a barnyard below sent the flock into per- fect shrieks of ornithological laughter, ana they had any number of jokesamong themselves. They laughed at the blue sky arching above, at the green billows rolling away down the hilis, and their golden mirth filled all the space between. Their performance was nothing unusual in bird doings. They were young, and I suppose everything looked funny to them, just as it doesto all youth and innocence. Stu- dents of natural history tell us that not eyen young hyenas play, and the ant, of whom the wise man bids the sluggard learn, has no moments of recreation, but with these exceptions all the dumb crea- tures have their ideas 6f sport, and enter mto it with the zest and abandon of young children. The birds in particular are full of play. Thej uncos that come about my door for their daily bread play a game among the willows that is singularly like the children’s game of tag. They start with a rush from the upper baunk of the canyon, dodging and twisting among the trees until hne who seems purposely to have lagged behind suddenly swoops down and overtakes one among the throng, who in turn falls back while the others get a little start, and then flees in pursuit. Only a day or two ago Icame upon a red-headed woodpecker drilling a hole in a redwood tree. He flew off as I came near and I stopped to examine his work. I had never before seen it at just that stage of incompleteness, and the cutting looked wonderfully as though it were done with & tiny ax. But what was the fellow making 1t for? No woodpecker in his senses would dream of building a nest in such a place. Not two feet from the ground and close upon a well-worn traill More- over, there were no less than nine com- pleted holes, all in a row, above this one which he had just begun, and from eight inches to two or three feetapart. John Burroughs tells of an energetic wood- pecker of his acquaintance who, having made his nest and estabiished his mate thereon, amused himself while she sat apon the eggs, by boring a dozen or more holes through a bit of pine board. My own observations of this bird have led me to the belief that this incessant woods- man’s trick of his is his form of recreation by which he seeks relaxation from the serious business of beinga bird. Thus Mr. Giadstone recreates his mind from the cares of state. Why should not the woodpecker? The ground-squirrel has a peculiarly solemn idea of fun. Ihave seen four or five sally forth together, mount different stones' and stand erect and motionless, their queer little ‘arms extended. They will remain thus by the hour, and, as near as I bave beon able to judge, watching them at close range through the field- | glass, without moving a whisker, yet | wearing all the while the funniest expres- sion of demure gratification over their verformance. They have other sports, | and, like the juncos, indulge in appatently | interminable” games of tag among the | stones and hillocks, but this whimsy for posturing seems to be their favorite pas- time, as playing at church is a fond amuse- el de- | livered upon the wing as they balanced | ment with some children. Young lambs | have regular games which they conduct with great precision. They are particu- | larly fond of playing a game that woutd | be dear to the heart of any well-regulated | boy. One sturdy fellow will take posses- | sion of a lnttle hillock or rocky eminence | in the field, and, to all appearances, chai- lenge his fellows to dispossess him. The challenge never goes without takers, and usnally haif adozen or more set out to | storm the fort, which the champion de- fends with great valor. Sometimes he makes a very strong defense, and holds his position for a long time against great odds, but sooner or later he is forced back, and whoever zains the top has to main- tain it a:ainst other comers. Tlere is always a great shaking of tails and much kicking up of heels in this mimic warfare, which attests to its entire good nature, and the spectacle is both interesting and funny. There are no quainter or more fun-loving creatures in the world than young pigs and none fonder of play than horses, old or young. Lacking their own kind to play with they will enter into the games of human companions almost as freely and quite as cleverly as dogs do. I have seen a horse play at hide-and-seek with a group of children, and saw, recently, a mischievous colt keep a couple of boys in a tree for neatly an hour, making feints at-their dangling legs and kicking up its heels in manifest glee. When, at last, the boyvs defied their captor and came down, the colt simply trotted about them as one who would say: “Why didn’t you do that before?” A few weeks ago I saw a grown cat, a huge Maltese, having a sort of hulking schoolboy fun at the expense of a Kitten. Tie kit was very small, but every bit there wasof him was mad. Back, head and tail were up, and he was retreating, eyes to the front, and with a very creditable show of dignity, from the presence which he evidently hated, but dared not attack. Biand and serene, smiling as only a cat THE FATE OF A NOBLE GENIUS Prizona’s First Delegate in Gongress, Golo) nel Charles D. Poston, Now Ending His Eventful and Varied Career in Sol- itude and Poverty in a Rude Hut at Phoenix H@ENIX, Arrz., Jan. 28, 1897.—The ingratitude of republics has no bet- ter example than that afforded by the case of Cotonel Charles D. Poston in this city. His 1s a melancholy instance— the closing of a long life of public service almost in solitude, entirely in poverty, amid scenes of squalor, in a wretched adobe hut on the outskirts of the capital city of the Territory that owes to his en- ercy and daring no small degree of its present fame and prosperity. Charles D. Poston—the name has an un- familiar sound to the present generation. And yet s0 noted a man as Whitelaw Reid drew rein before the humble adobe hut one day last week. The ragged neighbor- hood marveled to see the stylish equipage and none guessed that the seedy old man who crossed palms with the greateditor had played even a larger part in the making of history. For the neighbozhood is Mexi- can and the old man lives in such seclu- sion that many of the Caucasian inbabi- tants scarcely know of his existence. But the whole Territory wears on the tip of its tongue the information that Whitelaw Reid has his winter residence in Salt River Valley. And now that the incident is over and the two great men have met— though one was in shining affluence, the otherin dull penury—men remember it to the lasting credit of Whitelaw Keid, that he could lose sight of his own great- ness in paying tribute to the genius of one whose life has almost gone out. When I pushed open the rude gate yes- terday a spry Mexican lad was searching new possessions. In the following yea" be came back to Arizona, bringing with bim a big company and funds for opening the silver mines. This was dangerous work ip those days, for the Apaches were untamed and the Federal troops were few and far between posts. Two years later General Heinizelman, the president of the company, came out and relieved Colonel Poston for a season, but when the Civil War broke out Poston was in charge of the company’s business in Arizona, with a plant that costa million doilars. Now the few troops were withdrawn for more importart service, and the Mexicans and the warring Indians made sad hayce of things in Arizona. Colonel Poston left the country in ruins and crossed the con- tinent with only one companion, Professor Pumpelly. Repairing to Washington Poston served on the staff of his old friend, General Heintzelman. In 1863 President Lincoln appointed Poston Superintendent of Indian Affairs for Arizona, and upon the organization ot civil government in the Terr'‘ory he was elected as the first delegate to Congress. Adter his term in Congress Colonel PUT ton made a tour of Europe, and after thd Paris Exposition of 1867 he wrote “Eu. rope in Summer-Time,” a book that once had a large sale and was numbered among standard volumes. Returning to Wash- ington he resnmed the practice of law in partnership with Judge Botts of Califor- nia. At the time of the Burlingame Chi- nese embassy Mr. Seward commissioned him to visit Asia in the ostensible interest for two rattlesnakes that haa escaped dur- can smile, Tom lay quietly watching the kitten until the latter had got a little distance away. Then he arose. The kit ten stopped and stood at defense. Not to preserve its whiskers would it run, but Tom merely approached and again lay down, lazy and smiling, to enjoy the fun, while the small furry fury continued its retreat. Three times he did this, and only ceased the teasing performauce when his master called him away. Even spiders, the most solitary and un- companionable of creatures, play, drop- ping down upon their silken threads, run- ning back and forth upon their webs, un- mistakably taking recreation. Who hus not seen of a summer evening a swiit hawk swinging afar through the sky, dip- ping, swerving, circling, then on motion- less Wwings sailing straight away toward the horizon, not in sgreh of prey, but in the puré joy of motion, playing up there in the ethereal freedom ? Happiness, joy in existence, is the nat- ural heritage of every creature. We hu- mans have little remaining of it, because most of us have sold eur birthright for a mess of pottage, oftener yet for thedry nusks of that which we mistakenly call life. Even our relaxations are mere postur- ing, from which we get not even as much pleasure as the ground-squirrel derives from his queer pulpiteering. “Poor human nature,” we say, and talk prously of “higher things than happi- ness.” I tell you happiness is one of the high things of this life of ours. “We may always be sure, whatever we are doing, that we cunnot be pleasing Him if we are not happy ourselves.” Irving Went to Sleep. The venerable John H. B. Latrobe tells me, writes Dr. Jobn Morris in the Balti- more Sun, that in 1832 Mr. Irving paid a visit to Baltimore and was tbe guest of the Hon. Louis MeLane, the father of- the Hon. Robert M. McLane, ex-Minister to France. Mr. Latrobe arranged a dinner party in bonor of Mr. Irving. He invited the elite of the city to meet the distin- guished author. Among the invited were such well-known people of the day as Johh P. Kennedy, Charles Fenno Hoffman, both authors;" Christopher Hughes (Kit Hughes), Charles Carroll (father of Gover- nor Carroll), Mr. Bonaparte and many ladies well known at that time. Mr. Irving led Mrs. Latrobe into the dining-room, and sat on her right. Mrs. Latrobe was a very beautiful woman and Mr. Irving, up to a certain point, appeared to be charmed with her beauty and grace. However, her graces and beauty must have palled, for before the dinner was over Mr. Irving went fast asleep. The members of the dinner party, who, of course, kept their eyes fixed on Mr. Iry- ing, discovered simultaneously that their nero was_nodding—a sincere, earnest, heavy nod. A general smile pasced around among the assembled guests. There were routs in those days, but our people were too polite to carry off the Sieur Geoffrey in the midst of his slum- bers to the Adelphi, the fashionable resort of that day. Shade of Sancho Panza! Was not the creator of Rip Van Winkle enti- tled to sleep, even the sleep of the Seven Sleepers? Electricity, in its various applications, is said to give employment to 5,000,000 people. = THESE CALLED CONGRESSMAN MASON ¢ PAPA.” of immigration and irrigation, and he was MRS. WILLIAM E. MASON. ing the night. Colone! Poston explained apologeticaily that the Mexican had been forming the nucleus of an indigenous zo- ological cotlection. “I lev him keep his pets in the yard here,” said the colonel, “but last night some one liberated all of them and now he is ruined.” At the far end of the yard isa long low adobe house, all but one small room of which is tenanted by weaving spiders in wintertime and by tarantulas on the hot days. That single tiny room is atonce the kitchen and boudoir of Arizona’s first Congressman—a learned, cultured gentie- man, lawyer, traveler, author, explorer, soldier. His reception-room is larger. 1t takes in the whole yard. And, sitting here in the afternoon sunlight, Colonel Poston smoked his pipe and explained— what everybody else in the Territory has been explaining for ten days past—ihat the Tecent wet weather is the most remark- able thing in the known history of Ari- zona winters. Only the information comes with better grace from Colonel Pos- ton, for he speaks with a larger knowl- edge; and it carries more of conviction, for the colonel has no corner lots to sell. The last years of three-quarters of a cen- tury are closing on the life of Colonel Poston, who might, 'with due regard for the eternal fitness of things, be called the father of Arizona. He came here in the fifties, when 50,000 wild Indians roamed at will over the Territory, and its only white inhabitants were a handful of settlers scattered on the banks oi the Gila. He was born in Hardin County, Ky., in April 0f1825. At12 years of age he was placed in the County Clerk’s office, where he remained for seven years. Here he learned the rudiments of the profession that became his vocation, when ten years later at Nashville he was admitted to the practice of law by the Supreme Court of Tennessee. But the 1aw was uot to claim him en- tirely, and the acquirement of a fortune was not his highest ambition. When tne United States gained California he joired the argonauts and came overland to the Golden State. In 1850 he arrived in San Francisco and was honoréd at once with a tirst-class clerkship in the Custom-house. He served four years in this position, which fact alonz entitles him to much | fame in Ban Francisco—particularly from the Iroquois braves—as‘having served in the Custom-house before the advent of Jerome. ‘When the treaty between the U.ited States and Mexico for the purchase of Arizona was concluded Uolonel Poston headed a band of thirty adventurous souls who set out to explore the new Territory. They embarked at San Francisco and ar- rived at Guaymas in -January, 1854 Through Chibuabua and Sonora, up iuto Uncle Sam’s new Ei Dorado, marcted the explorers, After examining the Territory and taking specimens of its mineral wealth, Colonel Poston returned to Cali- fornia, and-thence across the istumus to New York, Philadelphia and Washing- ton. He spent the year 1855 on the At- lantic seaboard{ enlisting Interest for the | also especially commissioned to bear dis- patches from the Chinese embassy to the Emperor of China. One of President Grant’s last official acts was to appoint Colonel Poston Regis- ter of the Land Office in Arizona and, like an Arab, be returned to the deserc and was lost to sight for ten years. In after years he served as consular agent at No- gales, Mex., then as military agent at Bl Paso. Subsequent to this he devoted sev- eral years to promoting measures for the reclamation of the arid lands of the West by Nationalirrigation. In 1890 he was ap- pointed agent of the Department of Agri- cuiture at Pheenix. But now he has almost outlived his usefulness. He has neither fortune, position nor pension. He iz a member of the Society of the Sons of the American Revolution, president of the Arizona Historical Society, councilor of Anmerican Institute of Civics, and a whole lot of otiier things that are entirely hon- orary. Hehas long siuce beea a widower. He has a grandson at Stanford University and another in San Francisco. His only daughter is married to asergeantin the barracks on Angel Island. He bas, in truth, enough to eat and drink and smoke. He has a calm conscience and a gseful past that is not unpleasant to cofiem- plate. His body is not so vigorous as, it once was, though the real man withjn him is as keen and active, pamaps,xs ever. He was telling me about the rdins and strange thungs of Arizona, and the conversation drifted from the petrified re- mains of tha cliff dwellers to the primi- tive crematories of the Yuma Indians. “The first cremation I ever saw,” he said, *was in 1858 on the banks of the Colorado River, just above Yuma. The next one I saw was on the banks of the Ganges in 1867.” “Were they the same 2"’ “As to smell, yes; 1 couldn’t tell the aifference.” “But were the methods of cremation the same?” I asked. “Not exactly. On the Ganges, where fuel is scarce, several bodies are disposed of at once, On the Colorado, where fuel is plentiful, they build a separate bonfire for each corpse.”” i He is a bright and entertaining conver- sationalist, but he seldom talks now. He sits out here in the sunshine, under the wonderful Arizona skies, and thinks and thinks—I wonder of what? Jawmes H. GRIrres. T I e T Some Great Blondes. Here is a list of the famous blondes of history or mythology: Lilith, the first wife of Adam, Was a bionde; so was Eve, Venus, Daphne, Pandors, Diana, Circe, Medusa, Ceres, Fioya, Pomons, Helon of Troy, Phryne, A-- pasia, Lady Macbeth, Lucretia Borg}:, Bianca, Capello, Marie and Catherine do Medicis, Ninon de I'Enclos, Mme. de Chevreuse, Heien Jesado and Mme, Mont- bazon. There is some doubt about Cleo- patra and Mary of deotiand.” Suakespears makes the former a blonde, and if the lat. ter was not an out-and-out blonde, sbe bad at least auburn hair, r |