The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 7, 1897, Page 18

18 THE SAN FRANCI CALL, SUNDAY, RCH 7, 1 Among Historic Monuments in the \ HE chief attraction of Bournemouth | EI-E —to those who are biessed witn the #Q usual numver of lungs, legs and exceller® start- ing point for innumerable excursions, by train, by coach, by carriage cr whoel and even on foot if there are any who are not to0 proud to travel so humbl nof the deep pie-scented air est, for a quick glimpse of the Valley of the Avon, with Christchurch and Christehu Priory, it is well to! patronize the coach. It is quite an imposing coach that stands | in the rquare in front of One of the big hotels, with four well-groomed horses 2 der gleaming harness, a coachman livery on the box and a footman behind to manipulate the hors, and sometimes, o h of luxury, a tiny long- | n. Is and down the street, with a jingle of be a jovial cracking of whips and a blast from | the horn that reverberates among the nills. Before many minutes pass we are outof thestreets in the pine avenues, ratthng down the road at a pace that sreaks weli for our progress through the | rich programme. A half hour's rive, over the rough, wet roads, with the flooded fields on either side; the whole country y converted to a Duich landsc ch Parish cousists of the , the the old feudal castie stle keep, the little Norman bridge overa madly excited little river, as voluble | tion. Prior; ! and | labor was destroyed and the stones Beautiful, Picturesque as a group of gossips; a winding street of | and this time they were assisted by those | colors. In the center of the nave we see | graveyard, where a chill wind has sprung irregular houses, dark and old, and broad | determined spirits who had first foiled and tall, with gables and dormer windows | them. lattices; with biz, iron lamps and| A supernumerary workman weather-beaten signs, over the dark | served to toil during the hours of labor, arched doors of the old-fashioned inns- but he exhibited a most unusual indifies short, just such a place as exists chiefly in | ence to his meals and his wages, thus sat- the imagination or on the stage. As we turn the last corner the view is dominated by the “Antelope” and the “Goose,’’ large as life and twice as natural,” that stand in efligy over the taverns they have deizned to give their names to. The Priory, w hich 1s the oldest vparish church in England, occupies a slight ele- vation immediately over the river. The stones in the grass-grown graveyard seem | when King Henry VIII obtained posses- 10 be marching down to the river bank in | sion of it and granted it to the wardens a solemn procession. Jus: pow old the | and inhabitants of Christchurch forever. was ob- have been heaven-sent. A beam that was | too short waslengthened a whole foot, and, in fact, so marvelous was the assistance of this incorporeal workman that popular beiief could only attribute it to the most direct persanal intervention, and the edi- fice was dedicated to Christ. There i continued list of priors from 1150 to 15: e v original church is, or just when the town | However much that august monarch sev- was started, is a matter of interest to anti- | ered himself and his people from Rome, | quanans. The piace is mentioned in the | the church has all of the characteristics Saxon chronicles, and the earliest men- | and some of the grandeur of the great tion of the Priory is in the Domesday | cathedrals. An avenue of elms, gaunt Book. It was presented to the architect, Bishop of Durham, Ralph Flambard, by William 11, and the monks had many to the north circle, in the center of which is the wide pointed arch which forms the a curious legend as to the building of the | direct entrance to ‘the church. 'In olden church. The verger, who isa rare exam- | davs it was called tie Galilee. Here the ple of his kind, and is young, interesting, | prior was wont to sit at an oaken table to | sign and seal all the secuiar documents— ‘ bills for wax aliar lights, or marriage cer- and talks like a college-bred man, smiles as he relates that originally another site was chosen, but every night the day’s | tificates, or deeds of land. re- | The interior is a marvel of discolored moved to the rising ground between the |stone. The roof is of timber and must two streams, the Avon and the Stour. At | originally have been painted, as were the last they determined to continue on me‘ spot to which the heavenly finger pointed, | isfying the most incredulous that he must | | | arch with an iron door. | and twisted and leafless and black, ieads | | | | | | | | capitals of the columns that here and |that we leave this gloomy little subter- | there bloom in a little cluster of brilliant | ranean chamber and pass out into the | | | and here the monks celebrated the massat | ster choir remaining absotutely untouched tbe four massive Norman arches, in which stood the vld lantern tower, which gave | light to the choir at a time when glass was | the luxury and extravagance of kin The Rood screen, carved like an Italian bridge, separates the nave from the choir. The great Rood, a figure of Obrist on the cross, used to stand just over the screen, midnight. To thisday the lessons are read | from the top of the Rood screen. It has been said that Christchurch is the only example in England of a min- inall itsquaintness and beauty. The choir- stalls are very curious, and the wood- carver of that day must have been allowed more latitude than his present-day broth- ers. Age lends richness and dignity to even the most valgar design, and it is only after close inspection that we discover the subjects of the splendid carved chairs. A sailor in a nightcap, having & hand-to- hand battle with a goose, who has stolen hisdinner; a hungry dog gnawing a bone; a clown with a swollen face; a monk at prayers, while a cur makes away with his dinner; a fox preaching to the zeese—and the animation of these cackling geese speaks well forthe artsoi the mendicant friars {0 whom the carving has been at- tributed. The chief jewel in the crown of Christ- church is the reredos, the arrangements of the bigh altar, a marvel of archaic carv- ing. What it must have been eight cen- turies ago, with its images of siiver and the gleam of its golden vessels, with the priests in gorgeous vestments and the light of a hundred candles, all this we can oniy imagin Next to it is the chapel of the ill-fated Countess of Salisbury. The verger mur- murs how they dragged her from the chapel, poor old woman, and threatened ber with instant death unless she would aivulge the hiding place of her son, Car- dinal Pole; how thev mutilated and de- faced the beautiful chapel and plundered it of its ornaments; and, finally, they be- headed the poor Countess in the Tower of London. And this was the Reforma. tion! Next to the chapel is a little stone chamber, with no entrance to the church but an opening large enough for a man to thrust in his hand. There was a special grant for the lepers of the parish, and that fund is now divided for the benefit of the { deserving poor. It was into this closed stone cell that they marched, at a certain hour when the road was cleared for them, with the sound of their desolating ery warning their feilow-men. The priest hanted in the wafer through that tiny opening, and before the end of the service they went forth again through a black 1t is a great temptation to linger in the quaint old church; perbaps thereis haraly | a finer Norman tower than this, with is | bold circular stairease, itssplendid arcade, with its fourteen divisions so wonderfully | wreathed, one within the other and orna- mented with intricate Roman inter- lacings, & [retwork of stone. There is the | lady chapel and the old missal-room, full | of grinning and grotesque gargoyles, and the crypt, that was discovered in this | century packed solid with human bones. It is with quite the proper little shudder up from somewhere and stirs the long grass. The whole tract is called Paradise. but it is rather a melancholy one. The inscriptions on the tombstones are singu- larly striking. There was onc philoso- pher who remarks: Wo were not siayne, but rays'd— Kays'd not to life, But 10 be buried twice By men of str fe; What rest could the 11ving have Wheu dead men had none? Agroe amongst you Here we ten are one. And here is a touching testimony to the virtues of a child: At the ester end of this free Etowe, here dotth Iy the letle Bone, of Water Spurrer, That fine boy,that was his red flame of the underwood that even the frost bloom cannot extinguish, lhf sulden openiug of the trees, shuddering back from a little woodland pool, dark, melan- choly as a suggested trugedy. Alittle tur- | | ther on a charcoal-burner’s hut, - with :ihe | timber pi.ed around it; then an inn and &, few scattered green-thatched cottages | dropred down among the irees. There is Avon Tyrell, with the black-| | smith’s forge built on the very spot, it is | said, where Sir Walter Tyrell struck spurs into his horse and fled irom the murder of ilham Rufus. wlt is at Ringwood, the venerable, that the coach with its steaming horses comes to & final halt. In 1066 Ringwood was one of the man- | ors of Tostig, the fierce brother of Harold. | Valley of the Avon sprang on their prey. The prisoner'sdre«y was that of a shepherd. He trembled greatly and was unable to speak. Evey those who had often seen him were at firct in doubt whether this were truly the bril. liant and graceful Monmouth. * * * Ti, prisoner was conveyed under a sirong guard to Ringwood.” And he'e, Macaulay adds, be wrote that memorable appeal to his uncle, the King, “the letier of a man whom a craven fear had made insen:ible to shume.”” There is a chureh with a square tower and a grammar school founded by Ricn. ard Lynne in the time of Queen Eliza« beth. There was educated that anti. quated divine, B.shop Stullingfleet, whoss peculiar hose and devoted attachment to Pliterary tea parties”” gave birih to ths Y und at Mith 20th of August, 1691 Soon we have left Christchurch far be- hind us, but we follow the river. The clear Avon, the beautiful, smiling, gliste: ing Avon, iz a turbulent stream at this season of the year, and has been joining with 1ts friend, the Stour, to sWeep over the fields. It tears along like a miilrace, great masses of sodden ice floating on its swirling suriace. If, as legends tell us, fair Gwendoline drowned herself with grief at parting with her not too-distin- guisned lover, it is to be hoped that she choose the summertime. Even in winter the New Forest has cbarms, the gigantic branches of the bare trees entangled in the evergreens, thedull Tt was of vast importance asa royal manor | of the Normans in that day through its | fealty to Tostig and its enmity to Harold. | It was one of the earliest to acquire the | right for markets and fairs, and here the | itinerant merchants,the chapmen,brought | luxuries and vanities to temnt the iair | women of Ringwoud. To this day in many places where the festival is observed the renowned local gingerbread is sold. | It was centuries later that the troops of | James 11 scoured the country around the | already ancient town in pursuitof the fugitive Monmouth, and it was in a field called to-day *“Monmouth’s Close’ that they unearthed him at last. | ““At sunriss the next morning the search ‘ recommenced. At length a gaunt figure | was discovered in a ditch. Tae pursuers | much-abused term, *‘Blue stocking.” The place and the whole surrot country is rich with memories—battles and bloodshed, feasts and festivals, m ders and martyrdoms. It is peaceful enough to-day; a sleepy little town as the coach goes rat throush the street; cnildren are p mimic warfare in a field, innoce Royalists or Roundheads, and a drove of fat sheep are being worried aloug by two dogs and two shepherds, ambitio | prize at the cattle fair. The wintry sun shines on the old roofs ana the older trees and the rush of the river is the only threatening element in the charming twilight landscape. 7ax DYcK BRow. Bournemouth, February, 1847. Plan ;>f tfic Paris | marring the beauty of the | the public by the cartage of old and new material up and down the avenues. This will be done entirely by underground adjoining ) empty spaces of the Champs Elysees and ( | grounds or disturbing the convenience of | other parts of the grounds will have the | appearance of a forest of fifty years’ growth. ¥ From the Champs Elysees section pas- To the south of these, extending across the Champ de Mars from the river to the Ecole Militaire, is the most extensive sec- tion of the whole exposition. Seven buge structures, whose uses are shown by the It Will Surpass All index to the ground plan, occupy the | space and afford ample accommodation | for a most lavish display in their several | lines. The display of architectural taste and skill in tbe designs of the various build-| ings will be at once unique and magnifi- | cent. Tae foremost talent of the world, it may be said, entered into the competition and the selections made from the designs | submitted are said to be marvels of beauty | sage is had to the next, lying on the | south side of the Seine by the new Pont | Alexandre ITI, a splendid structure, de- sizned by the celebratsd MM. Cassien- Bernard, the cornerstone of which was | aid by the Czar during Lis visit to Paris | last year. The second or Industrial and | | Manufacturing section lies along the Es- i pianade des Invalides and comprises four extensive apd splendid palaces. | The plans have recently been amended Ex Osition Of 1900 railways, The accompanying cut shows p ue first stroke of work in the construc- tion of the railroad from the grand pal- /S far as money, energy and art will | as 500,000 francs, that arc the usual accom- |aces 2, 3and 4 to the Seine, by means of vail, Paris proposes to usher inthe | paniment of every public undertaking in | which everything is 1o be handled by IRAY twentieth century with an exposi- | France. Similar Undertakings All first served.” tr extensive additions to its already large i measure “first come, facitities for handling the multitudes who | the European natiors, bes des ia, will flock to the snow. Large new hotels | Japan and several of the South American are being erected and others added to and | countries, have made appropriations and renovated, and the transportation facili- | provision for exhibi but the United ties are being enlarzed and extended ona | States Government has as yet made no grand scale. \ { move toward giving our people an oppor- ‘ The work of allotting space to theex- | tunity of making any display. Valuable to make the river banks one ol the greatest | and appropriateness. hibitors from the various countries will | time is slipping away and it is to be | attractions of the exposition. Between| Qutside the grounds Paris is making'soon begin, and it will be in a large ! hoped that some action will soon be taken. | the Pont de la Concorde and the Pont des l | boats on the river. One of the most interesting and instruc- tion that will far eclipse everythir the| When the fands from this source are sort in the past and discount the under- | exhausted a treasury loan is to be made | tive features of the work now under way takings of the future for many years m‘g\:urn'eed by the entrance fces. is that of forest-making. Huge trees, of come. | " The 'site selected lies on both sides of | large girth and great spread of limb, are No expense is to be spared and ample | the Seine from the Pont de la Concorde | being transplanted in preat numbersin | provision has been made for all the money | down to some distance below the !’ontJmecxposilion grounds. Treesof mature | that may be needed; the grounds have ! d'Jens. growth and great size are selected. Exca- Invalides they will be lined with gayly decorated terraces and gardens, and on | the south side along the Quai d’Orsay will stretch hothouses for the borticultural ex- hibits, the pavilions of foreizn nations | and the buildings for various special ex- hibits, while from the Pont de I’Alma on down on both banks will be exhibits of forest, field and seas. ‘é%@’fi% i @[ f ‘\.}4‘%@‘4’;‘; e A Life Story. ; He I8 100 YOUDg to Know it nOW, But some day be will know. EUGENE FIELD. Above her little sufferer’s bed, i With a!l & mother’s grace, | She stroked tne curiy, throbbing head And smoothed the fevered face. «He does not know my love, my fears, | My toil of heart and hand; But some day in the after yea | Some day he'll undersiand; Some day he'll know 1loved him so, Some day he'll understand.” 3, A wild lad plays his thoughtless part As its his childhood’s lot, And tramples on his mother” heart Ofttimes and knows i not. He plays among his noisy mates, Nor knows his truest friend; His mother sighs, as still she waits, ' “Some dny be'll comprehend; The day will be When he will see. Some day he’ll comprehend.” FIRST STROKE OF THE PICK ONI THE EXPOSITION OF 1900. In the northeastern part on the Champs | vation is made about the roots so as to been selected and laid off, and the work of | preparing and beautifying them begun, | Elysees are tho gates of entrance and the and the designs for the various buildings | Palaces of Fine Arts. The ground chosen | which isso bound and swaddled asto have been chosen, the sites selected and | for these latter was occupied in part by | hold it firmly in place while in transit the preliminary work is now unaer way. the great Palace of Industry erected some | on a specially contrived vehicle from the Three million one hundred and twenty- | years ago. This has veen razed, and | forests to the place of repianting. ! five thousand construction bonds of 20 | palaces 2 and 3 are to be erected in its| The selections were all made some time francs each (§13,000,000) have been issued, | place. The entrance to No. 2 will be the | 820, and as soon as the winter was well each of which gives the right of twenty | grand entrance to the exposition, by which | set in large forces of men were set to work | leave them intact in the inclosing earth, The strong youth plays his strezuous part; His mother waits alone, And soon Le finds another heart The mate unto his owu. She gives him up 1 joy and woe, He takes his young bride's hand; His mother murmurs, “Will he know And ever understand? | When will he know admissions to the exposition, reduced | all public and official visitations will be | and the transplanting pushed rapidly so rates to all the special shows and exhibits, | made. as toget the roots well settied in the and on the railways of the city, ana to the ‘ The grounds have been inclosed by a | ground before the sap begins to run. great lotteries, with prizes rangingas high | high palisade fence, and thereisto be no! By the time of leafing the formerly TRANSPLANTING TREES ON THE PARIS EXPOSITION GROUNDS. EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE Whian giling Sadermiand®s | DE i900 The strong man fghts his battling days, | ___FEITPLACEMENT DES PALAIS The fight is hard and grim, . i His mother's plain, old-fashioned ways Have little charm for him. The dimness falls around her years, The shadows 'round her stand, She mourns in loncliness and tears, } ‘““He'll never understand. He'll never know Iloved him so0; He'll never understand.” GHAMPS ELVSEES. PALACES OF FINE ARTS— ARCHITECT-IN CHIEF M. GIRAULT. 4—Grand Palace, posterior part, M. Albert Momus Architect. 5—Entrance Gates, M. R. Binet Architect. 1—Small Palace, M. Girault Architect. 2—Grand Palace, exterior part, M. DeGlane Architect. 3—Grand Palace, intermediate part, M. Albert Louvet Architect, BARGES AND QUAYS. 6—Bridge Quays and Barges, as far as Pont des Invalides, M. Cassien-Bernard Architécts, ESPLANADE DES INVALIDES. 7—Paiace of Information and National Manufactures, MM, banks bet . Tourdoir & Pradelle Archirects. ! Pt 5 b A aomrie e e 5 8—Palace of Decoration ana Furniture, M. Esquii Architect. 12—Palaces of Congresses of S 4 9—Palace of Various Industries, MM. Lauche & Machose Ar- el o S aRsL O, Mawes chitects. 13—Palace of Marine Merchandise of Forest, Chase, Fisherfes A bearded man of serious years Bends down above the dead, And rains the tribute of his tears Over an old, gray head. He stands the open grave above, Amid the mourning bands; | And now he knows his mother’s love And now he understands. 1 10—Palace of Ceramics and Glasses, M. Tropez-Bailly, Architect. a Now 4515116 30% oF g 4 and Harvest, MM. Guillaume Trouchet aud Abrien Rey o et i 5, 11—Paluce of Horticulture and the Barges and Quays on c:);:n il Atohiteoht. i Andnow he understands. alace 4 2 14—Palace of Insjruments and General Proceedings of Litera- | —Sam Wal gs O era- 18—Pal M. alter Foss-in New York Sun. Tiiw Sutanes and Avis, M Louts Sartih Aebitasy. Plul?;‘ Tr:::(:::wmr"' Mechanics and Fountains, . 15—Palace of Foods, M. L. Varcallier Architeet. 16—Palace of Threads, Tissues and Clotns, M. Blavette Ar- chitect. 17—Palace of Civil Engineering ana Means of Transportatign, M. Jacques Humont Architect. 19—Palace of Electricity and Chemieal Industries, M. Eugene | Henard Architect. . | 20—Banqueting Hall and Palace of Agriculture, M. Raulin Architect, bt Ants have brains larger in proportion to the size of their bodies than any other living creatures. They are endowed with a high quality of instinct, display reason- ing ability and good judgment, and pos- sess DOWers of reflection and calculation. r b [} p TROCADERO, 21—Palace of Colonization, MM. Deputtus & Son Architects