The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, February 14, 1897, Page 18

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 1 1897 4ISADV S? Well, if I were | an autho: »fession 1 could | N make a pretty big book of the a ministrative m| which befell m during the three years I spent in Corsica | as legal adviser to the Freach Prefecture. Here is one which will probably amuse you: { I ha pon my duties a | Ajace 2 I was at the clab, reading the papers which had just arrived from Paris, when the Prefe ’s man- | servant brough: me a note, hast ritten | in pencil: *Come at once; I want you. | We bave got the brigand, Quastana.” 1 | uttered an exclamation of joy and went off | as fast as I could to the Prefecture, I must tell you that, under the Empire, the | arrest of a Corsican banditto was looked | upon as a brilliant exploit, and meant | promotion, especially if you threw a cer- tain dash of romance about it in your | official report. | Unfortunately brigands had become 3 veople were getting more | xill another in a | which nade it ad- p clcar of the volice, | boited to Sardinia instead of | nd. This was not to our liking; for no brigand, no promotion. However, our Prefect had succeeded in tinding one; he was an ol al. Quas- tana by name, who to avenge the murder of his brother had killed goodness knows veople. He hac been pursued or, but had escaped, and after a | time the hue and cry had subsided and he bad been forgotten. Filteen years had passed, and the man had lived in seclu- | sion; but our Prefect, havinz heard of the sffair and obtained a clew to his where- abouts, endeavored to capture him, with no more success than his predecessor We were beginning to despair of our bro- motion; you can imagine how plessed I was to receive the note from my chiej. I found himin his study talking very confidentially to a man of true Corsican peasant type. “This is Quastana’s cousin,” said Prefect to me in a low tone. *He lives in the little village of Solenzara, just above Porto Vecchio, and the brigand pays him a visit every Sunday evening to have a game of scopa. Now it seems that these two had some words the other Sunday and | this fellow bas determined to have re- venge; so he proposes to hand his cousin over to justice, and, between you and me, I telieve he means it. ButasI want to make the capture myself, ana in as bril- {iant a manner as possible, it is advisable to take precautions in order not to expose the Government to ridicule. I want you for. You are quite a stranger in the country and nobody knows you; 1 want you to go and see for certain if it really is Quastana who goes to this man’s house."’ “But I have never seen this Quastana,” I began. My chief pulled out his pocket-book ana drew forth a photograph much worse for wear. *‘Here you are!” he exclaimed. *‘The rascal had the cheek to have his portruit taken last year at Porto Vecchio!” ‘While we were looking at the photo the peasant drew near, and I saw his eyes flash veugefully; but the look quickly van- 1shed and his face resumed its usnal stolid appearance, **Are you not afraid that the presence of a stranger will frighten your cousin and make him stay away on the following Sunday ?” we asked. “No!” revlied tne man. “He is too fond of cards. Besides, there are many new faces about Lere now on account of the shooting. I'li say that this gentleman has come for me to show him where the game is to be found.” Thereupon we made an appointment for the nmext Sunday, and the fellow the | That's what | walked off without the least compunction for his dirty trick. When he was gone | the Prefect impressed upon me the neces- sity for keeping the matter vary quiet, be- canse be intended that nobody else should | I as-| share the credit of the capture. sured bim that I would not breathe a word, than nim for his kindnessin ask- ing me to assist him, and we separated to £0 to our work and drea m of promotion. | The next morning I set out in full | shooting costume and took the coach | which does the journey from Ajaceio to Bastia. For those who love nature there s no better ride in the world; but I was too busy with my castles in the air to notice any of the beauties of the land- scape. At Bonifacio we stopped for dinner. When I got on the coach again, just a little elevated by the contents of a good- sized bottle, I found tnat I had a fresh traveling companion, who had taken a seat next to me. He was an official at Bastia, and I had already met him; a man about my own age,and a native of Paris Lke myself. A decent sort of fel- | low. You are probably aware that the admin- istration, as represented by the Prefect, etc., and the macistrature never get on well together; in Corsica it is worse than elsewhere. The seat of the adminisira. tion is at Ajaccio, that of the magistrature at Bastia; we two therefore belonged to hostile parties. But when you are a long way from tome and meet some one from your native place you forget all else and | talk of the old country. We were fast friends in less than no time and were consoling each other for g in “exile” as we termed it. The bottle of wine had loosened my tongue, and I soon told him in strict confidence, that 1 was looking forward to going back to France to take up some good post as a reward for my share in the capture of Quastana, whom we hoped to arrest at his | were mad fora game at cards, and when ALFONSg DAUDET™ cousin’s house one Sunday evening. When my companion got off the coach st Porto-Vecchio we felt as though we had known each other for years. 1 arrived at Solenzara between 4 and 5 | o clock. The place is populated in winter | by workmen, fishermen and customs offi- cials, butin summer every one who can shifts his quarters up in the mountains on | account of fever. The village was, there. fore, nearly deserted when I reached it that Sunday afternoon. 1 entered a small inn and had some- thing to eat, while waiting for Matteo. Time went on, and the fellow did not put in an appearance; the {nnkeeper began to look at me suspiciously, and I felt rather uncomfortable. At last there came a knock, and Matteo entered. “‘He has come to my house,” he said, | raising his hand to his hat. “Will you follow me there?”” We went outside. It was very dark and windy; we stumbled along a stony path for about three miles—a narrow path, full of ¥mall stones and overgrown with luxu- riant veretation, which prevented us from going quickly. 3 *‘That’s my house,” said Matteo, point- ing among the bushes to a light which was flickering at a short distance from us. A minutelater we were confronted by a big dog, who barked furiously at us. One would have imagined that he meant to 8t0p us going farther along the road. “Here, Bruccio, ‘Brucciol” cried my guide. Then, leaning toward me, he said: “That's Quastana’s dog; a ferocious animal. He has no equal for keeping wateh.”” Turning to the dog again he called out: “That'sall right, old feliow! Do you take us for policemen ?" The enormous animal quieted down and | came and sniffed around our legs. It was a splendid Newfoundland dog with a thick, white, woolly coat, which had ob- taired for him the name of Bruccio (white | cheese). He ran on in frontof usto the house, a kind of stone hut with a large hole in the roof, which did duty for both chimney and window. In the center of the room stood | table, arouna which were several ‘‘seats’ made of portions of trunks of trees, hacked into shape with a chopper. A rough | Ing Quastana. torch, stuck in a piece of wood, gave a fl ckering light, around which flow a | swarm of moths and other insects. | At the table sata man who looked like I an Italian or Provencal fisherman, with a shrewd, sunburnt, clean - shaven face. | | He was leaning over a pack of cards and | was enveloped in a cloud of tobacco | | smoke. | *“Cousm Quastana,’” said Matteo, as we | | went in, “‘this is a gentieman who is going | shooting with me in the morning. He | will sieep here to-nieht so as to be close to | the spot in good time to-morrow.” | When you bave been an outlaw and had | 10 fly for your life yon look with sus.| picion upon a stranger. Quastana looked | me straight in the eyes for a second; then, apparently satisfied, he saluted me and took no furiher notice of me. Two | minutes later the cousins were absorbed | in a game of scopa. | It is astonishing what & mania for card- playing existed in Corsica at that time, and it is probably the same now. The | ciubs and cafes were watched by the police, for the young men ruined them- selves at a game called bouillote. In the villages it was the same; the peasants they had no money they played for their | out with the butt ends of their carbines, Pipes, knives, sheep—anything. I watched the two men with greatin- | terest as they sat opposite each other, silently playing the game. They watched each other's movements, the cards either face downward upon the table or carefully held so that the opponent might not catch a glimpse of them, and gave an ac- casional quick glance at their “hand” without losing sight of the other player's face. 1 was especially interested in watch- The photograph was a very good one, but it could not reproduce the sunburnt face, the vivacity and agility of movement, surprisiag in a man of his age, and the hoarse, hollow voice peculiar to those who spend most of their time ip solitude. Between two and three hours passed in this way, and 1 had some difficulty in keeping awake in the staffy air of the hut and the long stretches of silence broken only by an occasional exclamation: “Seventven!” *Eighteen!” From time to time I was aroused by a heavy gust of wind or a dispute between the players. Suddenly there was a savagze bark from Bruccio, like a cry of alarm. We all sprang up, and Quastana rushed oat of the door, returning an instant afterward | and seizing his gun. With an exclama- tion of rage he darted out of the door again and was gone. Matteo and I were looking at one another in surprise, when a dozen armed men entered and called upon us to surrender. And 1in less time than it takes to tell you we were on the ground, bound and prisoners. In vain I tried to make the genaarmes understand who I was; they would not listen to me. “That’s all right; you will have an oppor- tunity of making an explanation when we get to Bastia.” They d:agged us to our feet and drove us Handcuffed and pushed about by one and another we reached the bottom of the slope, The unforiunate Matieo remained dumb with fright; he looked appealingly at me, | and 1, of course, could not do otherwise where a prison van was waiting us—a vile | than explain matters. Taking the prose- box, without ventilation and full of ver- min—into which we were tbrown and driven to Bastia, escorted by gendarmes with drawn swords. - A nice position for a Government of- ficial! It was broad daylight when we reached Bastia. The Public Prosecutor, the colonel of the gendarmes and the governor of the prison were impatiently awaitingus. I never saw a man look more astonished than the corporal in charge of the escort as; with a triumphant smile, he led me 10 these gentlemen and saw them hurry toward me with all sorts of apologies and take off the handcuffs. “What! Is it you?'’ exclaimed the Pub- lic Prosecutor. “Have these idiots really arrested you? How did it come aboui— what is the meaning of it?”’ Explanations followed. On the previous day the Public Prosecutor had received a telegram from Porto-Vecchio, informing him of the presence ol Quastanain the locality, and giving precise details as to where and when he could be jound. The name of Porto-Vecchio opened my eyes; it was that traveling companion of mine who had played me this shabby trick! He was the Prosecutor’s deputy. “But, my dear sir,”’ said the Public Prosecutor, “whoever wonld have expected to see you in shooting costume in the house of the brizand’s cousin! We have given you rather a bad time of it, but I Enow you will not bear malice, and vou will prove it by coming to breakfast with me.” Then turning to the corporal, and pointing to Matteo, he said: *‘Take this sellow away; we will deal with him in the morning.” U i cator to one side, I told him that Matteo was really assisting the Prefect to capture the brigand: but as I told him about nl' matter 1.is face assumed a hard, judicia expression. 3 “I am sorry for the Prefecture,’” he said; “but I have Quastana’s cousin, and I won’t let him go! He will be tried with some peasants, who are accused of having sapplied the brigand with provisions.”” “But I repeat that this man is really in the service of the Prefecture,” I protested. *'So much the worse for the Prefecture,” said he with a laugh. “I am going to give the administration a lesson 1t won't forger, and teach it not to meddle with what doesn’t concern it. There is only one brigand in Corsica, and yon want to take him! He's my game, I tell you! The Prefect knows that, yet hé tries to forestall me! Now I will pay him out. Matteo shall be tried; he will, of course, appeal to your side; there will be a great to do, and the brigand will be put on his guard against his cousin and gentlemen of the Prefecture who go shooting.” Well, be kept his word. We had to ap- pear on bebalf of Matteo, and we had a nice time cf it in court. I was the laugh- ing-stock of the place. Matteo was ac- quitted, but Ire could no longer be of use to us, because Quastana was forewarned. He had to quit the country. As to Quastana he was never caught. He knew the country and every peasant was secretly ready toassist him; and although the soldiers snd zendarmes triea their best to take him they could not manage it. When Ileit the island he was still at liberty and I have never heard anything about his capture since.—The Strand. HE DARTED OUT OF THE DOOR AGAIN. THE FIR ST MATES LOST FINGER Thrilling Tale of a Whaling Gruise That Ended in a Long Night s HEY had “‘risen’’ whales—a perfect | 100! of them—miles ahead, early | A in the afternoon. The Derwent was iean ship,” so there was hurry to be | away after the “fish,” even though it| meant a long pull to windward. Two | boats lowered. the first and second mates | in charge, respectively. There was little | wind, and, but for the long ocean swell, | was off once more at racing speed, drag- from the ship. So the A bard tug at the oars brought them up | conflict went on. As the afternoon drew | 1o @ close the question of cutting clear was away in con- |discussed, but the majority applied the | turned boat ana reviewea matters. Night the sea was calm. | with their prey. Both boats were soon " and traveling swift! OF florror of the other boat, which, when last seen, was miles away, but still “fast.” Wl s . The mate bad hitched on to a regular en struck, had started off tine tartar, which, by “sounding” till neariv all tne was out. Then he appeared on top again, but beore they could haul up to him he ging them away clear, so unexpected and sndden was the rally, the whale came straight at the boat, scattering occupants and gear in the sea. | It was his last effort—the final. A swirl ‘ol foam-beaten, blood-tinged water, and | the fish floated dead. T T R Only four i the crew came to the sur- face—the other two were not seen again. Probably stunned or entangled in the gear, they went to their last account with a struggle. The survivors held on the up- “IT WAS JOHNSON, FRANTICALLY WAVING HIS FREE ARM.” trary directions, in tow of big whales. The second mate was fortanate; he soon killed his fish, and proceeded to tow the carcass to the ship, which had worked up within three miles of them when they ad- ministered the coup de grace. By the time they got to the vessel it was dark, and, in the excitement of securing the whale alongside, those on board lost sight l soon pick them up. blood.” Then came the “flurry’”’ and a sbort, mad rush. Ere the crew could pull | botiom. the ship would It was nearly dark when they got up to him and made play with the lances till he “'spouted thick | fear of sharks in their hearts, the three who were left clambered on to the boat's Then came the struggle with Yankee whalers’ dictum, ‘“‘a stove boat or | was closing in and, strain their eyes as 8 dead whale,” and held that the fish could not last much longer, and that they might, they could see nothing of the [$he night being fine, ship. Then they attempted to right the boat to ascertain tre extent of the dam- This cost another life, one of the With the age. hands disappearing suddenly. death. The boat, rolling in the trough of the seq, flung them off as often as they bestrode her, for there was nothing by which they could retain their hold. At last one seid he had ‘'had enough,” and, with a farewell message, gave up, leaving now only the mate, Johnson, and the boat-steerer. With words of encouragement to each other, these two continued the fight. After great difficulty Johnson managed | to shove the plug out of the “garboard strake,” aad then was able to keep his po- | sition across the keel of the boat by in- | serting his right forefinger—his compan- ion holding on to him. The blackness of night over and about them; the eternal swish of water ready to engulf them as it had engulfe | their companions; no signs of heip. Still, they clung and hoped. e T . % % = All at once Johnson felt his comrade’s grip slucken, as with a moan the man fell into the sea. His first impulse was to at- tempt a rescue, but he found that he could not now detach himself from his place—his numb finger had o swollen as to completely block the hole. He, “‘the last of six,” was left alone. So U night dragged on. F » * @ - On the Derwent a diligent watch was kept up tbrough the hours of dark- ness—the vessel making short boards to windward the while. Lights were burned and guns fired at intervals. At first signs of daylight eager eyes restiessly swept the bonzon. It was nearly nocon when one of the lookout men reported large num- bers of birds ahead, almost in tbe vessel’s course. Then they sighted a dark object, which was at first mistaken for a whale. As they got closer they made it out to be a boat with a figure astride it. It was Johnson, frantically waving his free arm and yelliug to frighten the birds, which every now and then swooped down at him, A boat's crew was soon to his relief, but before they could remove him they had to chop the plank to release his finger. He could not have fallen off had he wanted to. It was a thoroughly unnerved man they received on board. Now, that the worst was over, Johnson becume like a fright- ened infant, sobbing convulsively and taiking incoherently, and clutching and holding on to everything within grasp they bore him along the deck. He tnought of and knew.nothing beyond holding on for dear life, and his arms had to be secured ere he conld be carried down the narrow companionway which led to his bertn. He pulled round—though he lost his faithful finger—and fastened to many another whale.—Tahune Linah in Sydney Bulletin. There are said to be 200 women in New York who go to Europe twice a year to buy their dre: The number of men Who cross the water for their new ward- robe is much greater, as many men take the opportunity of running over to Eu- rope for rest, recreation and business all combined. feet high, is irom eight to nine feet in length, A specimen of this size will weigh 800 pounds, —————— The Bengal tiger, though only hur‘ ~ ZYERE in the canyon I have come upon a great redwood stump, level as a table, smoothly covered with an ¢merald cloth of short, thick moss and set out with tiny licien cups for the fai- Ties' afternoon tea. The guests have not arrived, so there is no reason why we should not sit down and study the texture of this fairy table-cloth—more beautiful than any fabric that ever came from the loom. The mosses are always lovely and invit- ing in their suggestion of coolnessand rest, but to me they never seem o charm- ing as in the early springtime, wien everything is smail and fine. They are so closely associated with the beginnings of things that one instinctively looks for them when the out-ot-doors year is new. Taey belong to the earliest states of life and played an important part in the great physical drama enacted upon this earth ere man appeared. They followed closely upon the heels of the primitive vegeta- tion—the algm and fungi. The very low- est orders of plant life are found in the sea. After these we find the mosses and lichens, and proceeding upward come upon the ferns, the palms and at last the stately pine, the latter a genuine tree, which the palm is not. We may trace the origin of all back to the primeval green scum that gathered on the surface of water before any other life appeared. Thus ancientis the origin of the deli- cate table-cloth here that feels like fine, soft plush beneath my band. Its history is as honorable as it is ancient; its office in the economy of nature as useful as it is humble. It is a history of faithful, con- stant service, an office of attendance upon the beginnings of life, of preparation for and protection of things déstined to higher uses than itself. The mighty ferns, the giant Lorsetails of the carboniferous age were useful in purifying the primeval at- mosphere and rendering it fit to sustain animal life, but before these could grow atall the mosses had to make ready for them. actly whay we see them doing to-day. ‘When the driving winter rain beats down upon the sides of the canyon the earth ‘would be carriea by it into the stream be- low, did not the thick, soft moss, growing everywhere about us, catch the water, like great sponges, and soak it up before it can rush down the steep inclines, washing the surface to bedrock. The moss spreads over earth and rocks and prostrate trees. It carpets the soft, boggy places with a green surface that binds all together, and by the aggregate forces of its frail life pre- vents landslides. If we try to pull up ome of it from the ground here weshali see how tenacious is the nold it main- tains. Yet how tender it seems. In height but an infinitesimal fraction of an They did in that early age ex- | Small Beginnings ing-glass a mass of tiny, green, starlike growth, with almost imperceptible, hair- like roots, yet it does a giant’s work. This starlike form is characteristic of primitive growth. 1t persists in many plants, and we ¢ ¢ itin a number of the low orders of animal life that inhabit the sea. We may note itin forming crystals of ice and in the snowflakes. But our moss performs still an- other service than protecting the earth from the sosking rains.” It prepares the way for oth:r vegetation. Here upon these great masses of rock it has grown, piling up vpon itself until it has formed a thick, moss-covered mold, and growing in it are a number of plants—iris, soaproot, wild begonia and halfa dozen other things, whose seeds have found lodgment in the moss and grown down through it to the solid rock. See where this soaproot has wedged itself into a cleft of the rock itself. These growths will in turn pass away, leaving their roots and stocks to bind the soil still more closely together. Wind- biown dust and bits of earth will lodge against them and be held by them untl future generations may plow and culti- vate rich loamy fields where now with my bare fingers I can scrape away the thin leaf and moss mold to the bare rocks. Thus much on the surface sbout our pretty table-cloth, but about the mosses themselves there is much to learn that well repays study. There are so many varieties, from the microscopic liverworts that cover walls and moist stones to the branchea leaf mosses, oiten several inches in height. The immense peat bogs of the old country are largely thick growths of bog moss, the green moss on the top being merely the tips and branches of the orig- inal plants, long since dead and incorpor- ated with the substance of tiie peat. Tuis is a singular characteristic of many mo: growths. Some, perhaps most varieties, Pprovagate by spores, but others grow by the branches traveling off from the parent stock and being separate plants, as some higher orders of vegetation send out “run- ners” that strike down and root inde- pendently of the parent. We may learn much of and about even these humble green mosses, but we shall miss the highest lesson of all 1fwe fail to see and realize their beauty, for this, after all, is the one thing we bumans can bring to nature. The brutes have a dim perception of ber usefulness, but only man knows that she is beautiful, and he learns the lesson only as bis awakened soul acquires the power to see. It re- quired all the life and learning that has gone before us to bring you and me to the | point where we know that these little star- like mossheads are beautiful, yet— 12 we get stmple beauty, and naught else, et about 1he best thing God lnvents. inch, it shows under my pocket magnify- & We find even more than in the mosses IDYLS OF THE GALIFORNIA FIELDS The Naturalist-at-Large Expatiates Eloquently on the Subject of in the exquisite grays and reds and black of the lichens dotting our table-cover, or crusting the surface of the higher rocks and the branches of oak.and hazel every- where about us. The lichens love pure air and are never found where the atmos- phere is tainted. They derive all their nutriment from the air, through the moisture therein. The plants are the only really self-supporting things in na- ture. They not only support themselves, but the whole animal world, for they man- ufacture the focd which we consume and form the wood, the coal and the peat which we humans burn for artificial warmth. Even these primitive forms of plant life are of great use to mankind. The lichens here are beautiful enough to justity their being, but they furnish us with many of our most valuable dyes, and their nutritive and medicinal properties have long been known to man. Modern science is inclined, it is true, to regard their medicinal value as somewhat apo- cryphal, although Iceland moss is still popular article of the druzgist’s stock: trade. It isa constant and useful article of food in the country whence it derives its name, as is also the well-known *‘rein- deer moss,” and many other lichens of the far north. Solomon in all his glory would have presented a far less brilliant appearance had not the rich searlet and yeilow and purple pigments derivable from the lichens been known to the ancients. The quaint, picturesque growths are perennial sort of things. The mosson this green stump is probably a thing of yesterday, but the hchens may have been about the edge, exactly as they are grow- ing to-day, since the tree was cut down, some fifty yesrs ago. The plants have this peculiarity of growing with great ra- pidity for a time and then remaining sta- tionary, apparently changeless, sometimes for centuries. Then, under some recur- ring aimospheric condition, they will sud- denly revive and grow again. Even speci- mens that have for years been kept within doors will sometimes do this on re- exposure to moisture and fresh air, so miraculously persistent is life in thislittle- crganized vegetation. Transparent, soft, amber-colored masses of jusi-forming lichen hang from dead oak branches, and pulling up a handful of moss a little while ago I exposed the heads of a half dozen baby toadstools, just getting ready to face the world. TH\" were perfect toadstools, but very tiny— ready by a good forty-eight hours to u) pear in public. ‘We,may not wrest from nature all ber secrefs, but we cannot go to her in srmple- ness of heart and come away empty- handed. That which baffles us does but make us love her more, for something of her teaching lies hidden even in the mys- tery. ApELig Kxape.