The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 28, 1897, Page 27

THE S FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, MARCH 28, 1897. ONDON, Exa., March 7.—My friend, ) Gray, takes life very seriously. yw) Shehasnotas yet come to that stage hertravels when sightseeing is privately nounced s bore. She ““do” everything—not once, but two or three times. She is quite wonderfal, Her interests are practically unlimited. Bhe is always ready to go to the Tower or the Hall of Records or to Mme. Tussaud’s or to Windsor or to picture exhibitions or to dog shows or-tess. She is very thor- ough and is always ‘anxious to have im- pressions and to have them quite clearly. She goes sbout with her eyes very wide open, and a little frown of anxiety and earnestness between them. She would t for the world be confused with thos ar tourists who rush about the Conti: nt and see everything from Amsterdam to Athens in three weeks. She has seen everything in Tondon in the way of churches and exhibitions of pictures aad antiquities. Now she has tarned her bright attention to London Life with a very large letter. She is quite sincere in her disinterested desire to see it from every side, at no watter what per- sonal sacrifice. The West End she has exhausted, for, unless you are very wealthy, or very beautiful, or very indis- criminate or very fortunate the West End does not offer very much, even to attrac- tive younz Americans of an observant turn of mind. The East End, on the con- trary, presents a large fieid to a modern young woman who occupies herself with economical and social problems. Miss Grey can talk with fearful intellizence sbout trades and the employer and the ployed. Her sympathies are always th the workingman, who is to her im- ation a kind of Adam Bede with a ey accent; or with the working- un, who moves in a terrible back- ¥-ound of abuse, intemperance and want, singing the “Song of the Shirl.”” The em- ployer is a kind of slave-driver, with a knotted scourge, who rubs his hands and counts his gold and says ‘‘Ha! hal” in accents of diabolical triumph. It was, therefore, with suppressed en- thusiasm that she accepted an invitation to attend a dance to working girls in ‘Whitechapel. These dances are given e a month, under the patronage of the charitable women of the West End, as a kind of connection with and relaxation from the more serious entertainments at vion House, the wonderful charity ederic Harrison has so successfully pro- oted. iss Grey spent considerable time and ht upon her toilet. Would 1t be in rit of envy that these less fortunate ters would regard her or in one of on? Would they be inspired by a t of exquisite taste? Would they consider it a compliment to themselves or would it simply serve to increase the dis- tance and mark the difference between them? A compromise was finally, decided on, and accordingly Miss Grey appeared on the evening in question in a new street is still eager to | gown, with a pretty bonnet and French slippers that would. certainly not fail to impress the Whitechapel mind. She had implored me to accompany her, and the invitation being seconded by the patron- ess of the evening we found ourselves at the appointed time on the top of an | omnibus headed for the East Knd. Miss Grey was quite silent. Inimagina- tion she saw herself carrying a beacon of light into the darkness; the benighted souls, touched by the rhythm and poetry | cf mation, spelibound by the grace and | delicate beauty of her movements, wou!d find themselves uplifted to an ideal worth aspiring to. She saw them, in her mind’s eye, open-mouthed with = astonishment and delight, watching her as she swayed | before them teaching them their steps. The omnibus rattled on; the streets around the theaters and music halls pre- sented the usual crowded, rushing, splen- did spectacle. The electric light at the entrances brought intg sudden promi- nence the occupants of carriages, flashing like brilliant birds, in plumage of every color and degree of elegance, across the darkness. There is no point where gayety ends and sobriety begins; a gradual change in the countenancs of the crowds, a gradual narrowing of the already suffi- ciently narrow streets; instead of the cries of coachmen and infuriated omnibus- drivers, the calls of one more or less ex- hilarated seeker after pleasure to a com- panion at a distance. Iustead of the elec- tric lignts of theaters, the far more fre- quent. and cheerful glare of the public house. Instead of the elaborate simplicity of the women in the carriages at the en- trances to the theaters, sleek heads wish nodding plumes and a sparkle of dia- monds, we have plumes, too, cock-feathers, bold and aggressive, in hats and bonnets of crushed magnificence, and a iringe, adiclive Philanthesshy inevitable and wonderful fo behold! The air is full of shouting street musicians, shouting street venders of cheap fancy goods, crowds of factory girls pouring suddenly out of a black doorway, with hoots and cat calls that resemble nothing more than the cries of wild animals at feeding time. The omnibus rattles on, | across this desert of noise, into sudden oases of silence; a church in the middle of a deserted square; an inclosed space with ancient. trees; quiet little streets with figures brushing by, creeping cl to the walls as if to escape nolice, in a mute apology for existence. All this ever changing panorama passes before us, before we reach the Liverpool station, in the very heart of the East End, and our- seives made part of that bustiing, hurry- ing; swaggering, threatening crowd of | human beings. | On foot and out of the big thorough- fares, asudden darkness and silence falls around us, the great black buildings, Argus-eyed, loom over us, the flicker. ing lamplight sends our grotesque shadows ahead of us. Our destina- tion is a big room over a facfory for artificial flowers, where one of the numer- ous clubs for working girls has its head- | querters. The rooms are not very light, | and the girls are very slimly represented. At our approach they retire to the wall, and apparently try to push through it, giving each other vigorous shoves and kicks. One of them, with a pasty com- plexion and a long Hapsburg chin, breaks away from them and greets us with nervous smiles and touches our hands with clammy, loose fingers. The others eye us |in a paroxysm of fierce shyness. Little | Miss Grey, with a brave face and fear in her heart, goes boldly and sits down close to a young creature with a delicate face, black ringlets and enormous gold circles in her ears. She speaks to them with a friendliness that is almost pathetic, but they stare at her in dumb antagonism, or answer her in monosyliables. Our lady patroness, who has had a long experience, goes after a few practical ques- tions straight to the piano. “Mausic,” we discover, ‘“‘hath charms to soothe the sav- age breast.” “Girls,” the lady patroness remarks as she opens her roll of music, *this young 1ady, Miss Grey, has been kind enough to come down here with me to-night to teach you some new steps. She comes from America and will show you a new dance called ‘The Washington Post.’” This statement is received with some in- terest. Miss Grey smiles, like the sun, upon all alike. Bome new arrivals p in along the walls and their advent pro- claims a sudden relapse into shyness, with more shoves and kicks and whispers. Miss Grey explains the steps and in- vites the smallest girl to try it. She of the black ringlets looks about for a means to escape, but is pushed forward, with some suppressed jeering. Miss Grey drags her about by shcer force, the girl It is really remarkable with what quick- ness these heavy-looking, sullen women and girls grasp and imitate the move- ment ot the new dance. An immense girl, Who is shaped like a hippopotamus, leads the column. Her great feathers flap into the faces of her partners. 3 5B “Oime the gentleman, Oi am "’ she as- serts, smiling like the above-named ani- mal, from ear to ear. The much to be ‘deprecated shyness finally gives way to a gayety that is hardly less disconcerting. ' The building trembles under the pounding stamps of the barn dance. Miss Grey enjoys great popular- ity; she is handed about like a sweetmeat; some of the women dance, with great solemnity, holding each other as in a vise and revolving with rigid bodies, like wooden soldiers; others whirl each other giddily, flinging their arms like wind- mills, throwing ont their feet like horses, and making noise enough for a whole regiment of cavalry. Gradually their faces lose their expression of petrified hostility; the pallor that was their dis- tinguishing characteristic has given way to flames of color on sunken.cheeks; the fringes, for which no factory girl is too poor or too busy, wave in unwonted luxuriance. Hats are thrown aside, the - L' Invifalion. & la Valse, presenting herself like a thing on wheels, She sinks back into oblivion with some- thing like a sob of grateful anguish., I have retired into the ignominions, posi- tion of turning the leaves for the Lady Patroness, who plays, with admirably marked time, the most stirring music. It is with shame 1 confess that I feel no movement of that philanthropic passion that kindles in Miss Grey the flame that makes her a martyr. tall girl alone retains ners, which is a wonder in the way of miliinery, with, its vari-colored wings and bouquets. A new arrival enters with a walk that distinguibhes her; it is short, brisk, light. She is dressed with neatness and some taste, and her fringe is comparatively small. She is greeted with general delight, and is almost thrown at Miss Grey in a mistaken enthusiasm, as being an Ameri- can also. “I bin three years in Americ: gins, with great good humor ently no diffidence whatever. “That’s a country, ain’t it? I bin three years in This Bird Stood Twelve Feet High Dén. E. C. STIRLING, F. R. 8., an- nounces that he discovered, during A a visit to Australia, from which he just returned, the remains of an ex- act bird which in life measured twelve feet in height. The bird, ‘as Dr. Stirling describes it, 18 nnknown to history. In some respects it resembles the elephant- footed moa, and in others the emu of the present day. It differs from all in so great a degree, however, as to prove it to | have been a class by itself. Large quan- tities of the remains were discovered, showing that centuries ago this great feathered creation was a common sight on the Australian plains. The place of discovery is called Lake Callabonna, and is located in South Ans- | tralia. Ifit has at any time been visited by other than the natives Dr. Stirling found no trace of the fact. Lake Calla- bonna is one of those basins which are | d d with the name of lake, but only become such during those tremendous downpours of water which transform the seeming Australian desert into the ver- dure-clad plain. When Dr. Stirling visited it it was really a hard clay saltpan, cov- ered with glittering crystals of gypsum alt. bones. Salt accomplishes this, although it renders the bones exceedingly brittle. /, THE GIANT BIRD The remains of the big bird were found associated with those of otner extinct marsupials. Owing to the fact of the ex- treme brittleness caused by the salt the task of recovering and preserving them was one of exceeaing difficulty. It was, however, accomplished safely and, so far £8 can be determined all that was neces- Tt is salt that preserved the | sary to make up a perfect specimen of the | bird was secured. | The study of the skeleton, as it has been prepared and placed together in this city, reveals facts of singular interest.. For in- stance, the tibia and femur are almost ex- actly the same in both sizeand proportion, as those of the mos, traces of which have been found in Connecticut in the United States. Then there is a jump of centuries to the present day, for the sternum or breastbone resembies that of the emu as it exists now. The leg bones are like those of the elephant bird which science knows as the Diornis elephantopus. The neck and head must have resembled in life those of an ostrich of tremendous propor- tions. Careful study of the remains in detail | showed that the bird was without wings, and therefore is likely to have possessed many of the habits of the ostrich. Per- can be obtsined than from the measure- ment of its skull, which 1s 1 foot 2 inches. | It is probable this bird lived in marshy | Dlaces and fed on herbage. Still, it was | also apparent that the toes were small and | weak, which has caused some of the pa- leontologists to doubt the marshy ground feature of Dr. Stirling’s explanation. However that may be, it is apparent that the bird was a dweller of the plains, and that at least in the vicinity of the marshes | it must have found the food which pre- | served its life. The footprints of birds are peculiar and mora readily distinguishable than those of most other animals, Birds tread on their toes only. These are articulated to | a single metatarsal bone at right angles | toit and they diverge more from each | other than in other animals. It is, there- | fore, tht formation of the foot of the Aus- tralisn bird which the peleontologists | bave studiea more closely, and though | they have found the resemblance stated {5315 no instasico auMpieut 18 permit of | it being placed in the same classification as any other specimen of prehistoric bird so far discovered, with the possible ex- ception of the bird that made the foot- print on the Connecticut sandstone. While, of course, Dr. Stirling’s announce- OF THE ANTIPODES. ment is 50 recent as to prevent anything like an extended investigation being made thus far, scientists have taken the matter up and are striving to find a place for the bird from Australia. There is only one prehistoric bird known to history which has something of the same appearance as tbis unknown Aus- haps no better idea of the size of the bird | tralian specimen. In this the framework of the leg is the most massive of any in the classof birds. The toe bones almost rival those of the elephant. Evidence bas been secured by scientists that this bird afforded food to the natives of New Zea- land during the period just before it be- came extinct. Possibly this is also true of THE ELECTRIC the Australian bird. Several other spe- cies of these extinct tridactyle wingless birds have been discovered within the last few years, but they have been very appar- ently of the same class as the specimens which the museums already contained. There is any amount of speculation in scientific circles over Dr. Stirling’s dis- covery. Theories have been formed, but that is s far as any one has gone as yet. Dr. Stirling himself says that he d.es not know to what class the bird belongs. Thatseems to be the exact truth so far as everyboay else is concerned. The Electric Motor Bike = YLECTRICITY may now drive the @ motor bicycle. An invention has AR been patented by Sumter B. Battey of New York, which makes the unusual combination of the electric spark and either naphtha, petroleum or gasoline. The union of the two elements is accomplished by placing a battery on top of the tank con- taining whatever fluid may be preferred of the three mentioned. The former is con- nected by the necessary wires with the motive apparatus so that the electricity may cause the necessary explosion which produces an impelling force whenever it is desired. Battery and supply tank are located back of and just under the saddle of the bicycle. The bicycle is suppiied with the usual chain and sprocket wheels, one of the latter being attached to the pedal spindle, and the second sprocket wheel to the axle of the bicycle at one side of the rear traction wheel. At the end of-the shaft opposite the sprocket wheel is attached a pinion adapted to gear with the driving pinion. This is journaled to a stud that forms part of the casing that surrounds the revolvable cylinder, secured to the shaft of the rear wheel. I: is in this cylinaer that the pockets are located— in the outer section—which receive a charge of vapor that causes the wheel to revolve. Attached to the stud is a crank arm and pivoted to the outer end of thisis a con- necting rod which connects with the pis- ton rod of a piston that moves within the first eylinder, which is attached by braces to a second cylinder. Now it is absolutely necessary that bcth of the cylinders shall be of a size that will enable them to hold practically the same numbet of cubie feet of gas or vapor. Connecting these two cylinders at a point near their outer ends | 1s & channel in the form of a tube, This channel is supplied with. valves waich automatically open to exhaust the vapor from one cylinder and to close it when the other is taking in a supply. Communicating with the first cylinder at a point about opposite the outlet tube is an inlet tube that leads into one side of a vaporizer. This vaporizer communicates witha supply pipe leading to the tank located back of the saddles, and'the'supply of whatever the tank contains $o the vaporizer is regulated by a stopcock at- tached to the supply pipe. MOTOR BIKE. The reservoir located back of and be” neath the saddle is secured to the frame of the wheel by suitable braces, of which the casing forms a part. So far as the electric battery is concernea, it 1s the in- ventor’s idea that it will be easier to place it on top of the supply tank. Now as to the overation of the machine. The stopcock of the pipe leading from the tank is turned on sufficiently to silow a small stream of the fuel to flow into the vaporizer. Owing to the small inlet being partially closed the fuel flows very slowly, diffuses itself over the surface of, the spherical distributor and taen vaporizes | within the chamber formed by the upper. hollow portion of the vaporizer. Then the bicycle is started, the rider pedaling in the ordinary fashion until the neces- sary rotary motion is imparted to the sprocket wheel and thence to the cylinder and pinion. This imparts continuous movement to the piston contained within the first cylinder, and the piston moves back and forth, alternately taking in a sapply of vapor and discharging the same. Just as soon as the inward stroke of the piston is completed and the supply of vapor in the cylinder exhausted into the second cylinder an electrical contact re- sults. This causes the reproduction of a spark within the second cylinder explod- ing the vapor. The expansive force thus obtained is ex- erted upon the driving cylinder through the medium of one of the pockets. This pocket is then exhausted through the pipe and thence through the openings in the pipe back into the vaporizer. The hot air in transit from the pocket of the cylinder mixes with the supply of cold air which is drawn in through the oven top of the pipe. This mixture of hot and cold air as- sists in the vaporization of the fael that has flowed into’the vaporizer from ‘the tank and thus a continuous supply of vapor for the first cylinder is maintained. This makes it plain to be seen that by the means described a continuous rotary mo- tion 1s supplied to the cylinder and thence to the wheel of the bicycle. In this way an even and, if desired, terrific speed can be maintained until the supply of vaporiza- ble material is exhausted or the machine is stopped by rider. The cyclist can stop at his discretion, and in just the same way as if there was no motor at- tachment to his wheel. A study of the accompanying illnstra- tion will show inly that while on the face of it the invention may seem some- what complex, in reality it is simple. The inventor claims that no knowledge of mechanics is required to operate’ the motor cycle, and that his efforts have been constantly directed in the line of simplicity, New Jersey, in a fishnet factory. Aln'tit grand ?” ¥ Miss Grey rises to the occasion and pro- nounces it very grand indeed. . The girl has a singular face—very white, with light, luminous- eyes, and & pale mouth with even teeth. Most of the women have neglected teeth, and not a few have but one or two discolored fangs, liks old hags. She flaunts her- superiority and waves in the faces of her envious companions that stay in America, the accounts of .which they listen to as they would listen to the descriptions of a heaven to which they might possibly aspire. “The men, I tell you strite, they are gentlemen. I think Englishmen are just pigs, don’t you?” Miss Grey, with a sudden blush, hesi- tatingly murmurs that she had met a few who seemed rather pleasant. “Hol"” replied her tormentor; ‘and English girls is worse. Now, when the men says to me to do this or to do that I says where I comes from the men helps theirseives.” *Did you celebrite Jast Monday?” “Monday ?” repeated Miss Grey. “Washington’s birthday; I did, I sang ‘My Country, 'Tis o' Thee’ and *'Ail Columbia!’ Alydy I know, she can ply the piano, she plys by hear. good. I'm goin’ back in June. Hi wouldn’t sty in London, not for a good deal. I'm a wi-tress here, I am, and I I don’t stana from 7 till 10 every day, no don’t!” The fine sarcasm of this was not lost upon her audience; the girls haa erowded close to her, and their heated faces pressed around, the air was very close. Miss Grey locked into the excited eyes about her; the problem Was even more interesting than she had expected, but it was a little unpleasantly startling to come into such close contact with those impulsive and ex- e I sang’em How a Characteristic Whitechapel Dance Affected an Advocate of Philanthropy citable creatures, who could be so easily swayed; who, one moment, were flinging themselves about in a dance full of care- \less moise and abanden, and the next were standing still and fierce, with wild eyes and little exclamations of rage, that she couid not comprehend, but that were di- rected apparently straight at her. _The lady patroness broke into the silence with an enlivening waliz and the hippopotamus approached Miss Grey, beckoning at her with a face like a mask of Comedy. ‘’Ave a swing?’ she de- | manded with great politeness. After a moment, however, the tall one stopped with disgust. “What are you dancin’? That ain’t a waltz; that's a shotteesche.”” Then she asked: “Shall I learn you how we waltz?” Miss Grey humbly consented. She confided to me afterward that each girl had after a few moments become not her pupil, as she had fondly expected, but her preceptress; that their knowledge of all dances was fearfully and wonderfully deep. I waiched Miss Grey in her encounter with her mew friend. It could not. be called a dance or a waik. The hippopota- | mus moved like a stone-crusher, jorking a path for herself down the room.. Every now and then she swung her partner, who appeared to fling herself violently into her arms; her feet would fly up from under her, her hair waved back, and her hair- pins curved through the air like a flight of swallows. As she passed, the lemonade glasses rat- tlea and her skirt sweps the dried biscuits that stood on s plate on a chair all about the room. This disaster brought a termination to the enjoyment of the even- ing. It'was discovered to be late and the janitor of the building and a skeleton woman who scrubbed floors appeared at the door. The gisls surrounded us with eager faces, quite unlocked now to our glances, langhing, shouting, like bolster- ous and grateful children. Most of them had put their long day in the manufacture of artificial flowers and in the tailoring establishments, but they wete as full of energy and as ready for fur- ther frolic as schoolboys just dismissed for the day. Little Miss Grey, however, was quite limp and exhausted. As the girls thun- dered down the stairs she drew a long breath of relief. Her ambition to bring licht duto ‘the dark lives of the working girls had been temporarily completely extinguished. The hippopotamus only had lingered, and now thook her violently by the hand. “We had a dance, we had. It was a’ot job, it was. You come along next time and I'll learn you the shotteeschsé 1" Miss Grey smiled faintly, on the verge of tears, and I hastily put out the light. In another moment we were on the street, along which 1n groups the girls were walk- ing, wrangling, laughing loudly. Miss Grey is no longer an advocate of active philanthropy. VAN DYKE Browx. Successful Railroad Without a Car which passes an enormous trafiic, although the line does not possess a single car. Itis located upon one of the highest elevations of the west slope of the Cascade Mountains, in the heart of what has been until & comparatively recent date an almost inaccessible region. Itslength 1s five miles, ana it circles and twists in that distance until it resembles the trail of a mammoth serpent. It represents the most difficult achievement of the lumber- men of the Webfoot State. The only feature of the road except the ine itself that resembles the ordinary narrow-gauge railroad is the eighteen-ton Baldwin locomotive which forms the power that pulls the freight. This freight consists of logs. which will average of a size equal to that of the engine boiler. These logs are formed from the trees which are felled by the red-shirted lum- bermen in the employ of the Bridal Veil Lumber Company. After being cut the logs are rolled to the nearest point on the railroad. They are then arranged in a line, huge staples driven in each end. sec- tions of heavy chain attached to the sta- ples, forming a train of logs. The fore- most of these logs is then chained to the engine, which hauls it and its companions upon the roadbed of the line. The railroad is narrow gauge, three feet, It is constructed on the same principle EHERE} is a railroad in Oregon over in charge to the beginning of the two-mile flume that leads from the end of the first section of the road to what is called the chute pond, a small body of water located about a haif mile from the mill where the logs are turned into lumber. In order that the logs may slip easily along the roadbed the plank nailed to tha ties is kept thoroughly greased, except at sharp grades, where the momentum of the logs is sufficient to cause them to slide easily. As the road is located on & mountainside, where the declivities are often so great as to make straight descent of the line impossible, for the reasen that if that were tried the logs would slide forward upon the engine, the road has been constructed largely upon the plan of that by which the tourist ascends Pikes Peak in. Colorado. The curves are in many instances so abrupt that to the un- initiated it seems as if the logs must slide over the rails to the ground, but disaster of this sort is avoided by the logs being chained together as previous!y described. Fastening them in this style gives the timber train that same general solidity which the vestibnle imparts to the mod- ern train of passenger cars. The roadbed, cr rather its foundation, 18 not of course liks that of the great lines over which passenger and freight cars roll, but although roughly constructed, it has surprisiog strength. While as stated then, instead of being moved with diffi- cuity to within “‘reaching distance” of the locomotive, are placed in the chute and down they go to the bottom into the pond. Once in the water, a detail of men fasten the logs together, just as described in out- lining the make-up of a train. A stout incline runs from the water up to the railroad track. The train of logs is poled olong uantil the foremost lies at the foot of this incline. A chain is then fastened to the logs, the other end thereof being attached to the engine. The loco- motive pulls and the lcgs, confined within & high - curved channel, are brought up on to the track and start on their journey to the mill. This is the process adopted at the upper pond. The accompanying illustration denotes the method in useat the pond which lies at the end of the first section of the raiiroad. The journey of the logs to the two-mile flume is uneventful. When the flume is reached the engine is detachied from the log train, and the logs, from which all chains are removed, are diverted into the mouth of the flume. Once started it takes a log but a small fraction of time to make its way to the lower pond. Here the process of forming ths big tree trunks into trains is repeated in the same fashion as at the upper pond. The process of getting them on the track, however, is much easier. At this point THE .RAILROAD THAT OPERATES WITHOUT CARS. adopted by regulation roads over which cars pass, with one exception, Stout plank is nailed to the ties and it is upon this foundation that the Jozs rest as the engine pulls 'them along. The rails act as guards to ivent the logs leaving the track. {n this manm the - timber 1is ‘conveyed from the point st which the engine takes it the logs are rolled from the point at which they are cut to the most convenient. pia on the railroad in many instances, the chate is called into play at what is known as the upper pond. This pond is to pe found near the starting point of the line, and to it from various sections of the mountainside -where trees are being felled flumes or chutes are ran. The logs the track runs in such a way that logs and road are almost side by side, so the engine has but little difficnity in’transferring the freight from the water to the roadbed. Now the logs are beginning the conelu- sion of their journey, for from the lower pond the line of the road runs withoug break to the mill, where the logs are turned over to the sawyers.