The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 26, 1897, Page 17

) 4 \ FRANCISCO, SUNDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 26, 1€ Were you ever friendlsss and alone in | Oakland, without a cen; in your pockets, | and filled with a aesire to reach San Fran- | ur bome and you | mily ? aps you think this would be an | matter. But I can a think so | ause you know nothing I was alone and | few day | to San ips and was neulted 3 nniless wn to the | ice I wo y have been | rrested for E | Of course it 1 the result of an un- | fortunate accident, and the people of the | Athens of the Pac to whom I applied | for the loan of 10 cents | ic e not to b for refusing me. ’'Tis one of the un- written laws of the w pers of gold that 8 man who possesses not the yellow metal has no right to live. He even has right to address t elect who pleaty. I found this out du g dicament in Oakland, and sooner I would not have been h 1 suppose that a similar que: any othercity in the cou 1 & similar end. n accident. I am | nger in Oakland and sim- there to have a look at the | s I walked about the clean, well- | w the orderly people I | 3 pressed and thought I | uld like to make my home there. But e changed my mind about this. . walk about Oakland was really en when I w to a ticke sco imagine my consterna- place. at I had lost my purse. Ohn, ht at first, I must have some my pockets. But not a cent | 1 never wear jewelry, and | so I had | get a loan from | Iy penniiess. It | all my life and the | | Handing him my card. Texplained matters | had tried to get the loan of 10 cents from | Inok into your case to-morrow.’ bacco-store ard | to him in a business-like way. at Jeast twenty-five business men. Not| Oif course I compiied with this practical was the fi While in this agitated frame of mind a ragged man, who hed been standing near, 1 have not the haudling of any funds, | | but possibly to-morrow I can do some- | te mirror. I cer-| Instantly his face changed and he |oneseemed the least inclined to comply | nroposition. A man in my fix would | thing.’” | came upand said: “Please, sir, can you My clothes | handed back my card. with my request. | know it was just exactly what he wanted. | Ileft the house in disgust. { let me have 10 cents to get across to the nen spotless, “I have heard that story before,” he Some treated me indifferently, while | Atabout 10 o'clock, when all the stores During the next two hours I tried to get | city ? I have friends over there.”” from the la said, as hestarted back to his desk. J others were insulting. | were closed, I called on the clergymean of | trusted for a 25 cent telegram. The ope- Eow I sympathized with the poor “But I will return the money to you to- | *You think you're pretty siick, don’t |a wealthy congregation. My card was morrow,” I venturel. | you?"” said a man to whom I had handed | taken to him and he came to see me, his “On, get out, you good-for-nothing | my card and made the same reques: that | face beaming with apparent goodness. scamp! I haven’ttime to talk to you.”” { I bad of others. Bat my request caused a change to come Naturaily I went. I thenvisited anum-| “Why ‘slick’?” I asked. | over him. His face became overcast and ber of other stores, but all with the s<ame “Why, to be coming such a dead cold | thoughtiul. result. Notaman could I find willing to | game as that on me. Anybody cansee| *This is very irregular, end me the small sum of 10 cents. These | you are only a beat.” | bave to go through a certain routine. en each gave the impression that there I made no attempt to argue the point, | committre—" morrow and what would my family think was only 10 cents in all the world and that | but left at once. “But,”’ T interrupted, “10 cents is all I |of my absence? I ther began to hove | 1e had that 10 cents. I then tried one or two institutions, but | want. Just enough to getto my home in ; they would worry and send out a search T and down the streets I wandered, | with no success. ‘Leave your name,” a | San Francisco. I will return it to-mor- | party. But in tne meantime what would | becoming hungry and tired, until I | young man said in one place, “and we will | row.” Ldo? felt that I could ad- that he wonld n me and lend me 10 t day. But how sadly | rator siook his head. It was not custom- | wreteh, and how glad I would have been arv to trust people without referen | to have given bim a little money if I haad Then I tried the telephone, but witn the | had it. But I hadn’t, and told him so. In same result. fact, I told him ail my troubles; but I As ‘the hour for the departure of the | know from the way he turned ana left me last train drew near my anxiety gave place | that he didn’t believe me. to fear. Where would I spend the night? Then the tbought struck me that I Where get food? What would I do to- | might manage in some way to get aboard These cases The[ 6 before I mu ask for a lo. Go vier. Waiting until the train was ju-t 0 store T asked for the pro- ready to pull out from Seventh and Broad- soon appea hepes went uy the guard was ready to close the gate. | tne terry-boat if I could only get to the | way I made a run and jumped aboard as | But at the pier my luck left me. Th gatekeeper had heard the story before. As for sneaking on board of the boat, I couid tind no way. Itlooked easv enough until I tried it. Then I found every possible passageway barred. ‘While moving about frantically, in the hope of finding a chance to get aboard I heard the blast of the whistle. Then the wheels began 10 revolve, and my last hope was gone. What could I do? I must leave here at any rate. The center of town seemed more like home. So back I walked, tired, | hungry and cold, over the long, seemingly endless track to Seventh and Broad way. Then began » painful walking the streets. Up and down, across and back again, being looked at curiously by the police, I spent the hours of the night. Would morning never come ? It was still dark, but, in some mysteri- ous way, I seemed to feel light coming about me. I would go to the water front. Although what made me doso I cannot tell. But I walked along the damp wharves and seemed to suddenly ieel better. Suddenly some one said in half Italian, “Where you going?”’ ‘“S8an Francisco,” came the answer, followed by a long ex- planation as to the wheres and whviores of the trip. Then out of the shadow of a schooner glided a rowboat with one man in it. *'Take me with you to San Francisco?”’ I asked. *How much you pay?” Then I explained my position to the boatman, and, strange to say, he was an | attentive listener. | **Can you row?” he acked. *‘Certainly."” *“All right. along.” Needless to say I jumped into the boat | in short order and took off my coat pre- | paratory to going to work. | ‘“Better eat and drink first,”” the boat- | man said; “you look weak.” | And I did eat and drink, and just as the gray dawn was appearing we took our oars and pulled out of Oakland C How glad I was to see the city ng bebind us and hoped that I wouid never see it again. Bu: I earned my passage. breeze sprang up shortly after we starte and the surface of the bay became ¢ With our best efforts it took us an ho and a half to crossthe bay. But I worked 1t you help, you come ‘v\'lllingly and reached home safely. A day’s rest made me myself again, bt any | person who is ever caught in Oakiand without means to get back has my sincere sympathy, and can have my money if he meets me where I can give 1t to him. ARTHUR LINDSLEY. i courts if they get one term of a year or | belt of his trousers and started for me, but | a motion. Judge Murphy fell forward on two they are sure 1o come up again for | I wason the other side of the table, and | the table. < another sentence. Why, some prisoners | before he had gotten very far the Sheriff | ‘‘Now,” said the District Attorney, “itis this way. The man may threaten, and he almost always protests his innocence and vows vengeance at the time and di- rectly after he is corvicred and sentenced. But a few years in San Quentin or Folsom tages it out of them. They don’treason— they are only brutes; but when the tem- per leaves them the instinct of self-preser- vation takes its place and they blindly understand that they will get the worst took care of him—and after that he was guarded by a bucly poiiceman. I had the weapon here for a long time. It wasa long pair of shears, with the handles bound | together tightly with balerope and the points sharpened down as finely as possi- ble. It wasn’t the pleasantest thing in the world 1o contemplate. “IThat was my only experience, al- though I am threatened nearly every day. here have been in San Quentin eight or | | ten times. Some of them wouft rather be ;in than out, for they have food and cloth- ing and some few luxuries over there, and | the way of the transgressor is hard when | | he is once found out, but in London tuey S/HEY PROFESS . = = ing out of threats. “They are always threatening,” he| Judge Murphy was shot. Did he tell you | of the deal. They don’t stop hating ns— | laughed, “but it don’t amount to any- | of it? they hate the whole world, but the law ‘thng. One attempt was made on my life. “That was a great occasion,”” laughed | has found them out once and they are the District Attorney, who certainly is not growing prematurely old with fear for his life—nor prematurely gray, for that afraid of it again.” Warden Aull of Folsom has had enough experience to feel the same way about his It was going against { matter. “Yes,” he said, “‘the Judge was | unwilling guests. “They come to the Are judges and prosecuting officers in | been sent to San Quentin for foriy-five K men mad in a short while. Here I have | him pretty hard and hie was sitting onpo- | pro -ecuting some fellow, and a policeman | prison,” he said, “full of the idea that California in danger from revengeful con- | years. My!" exclaimed the Judg-, lean- | sentenced many a man twice and some- |site me with his counsel at a long table. | by the name of Morony shot him in the | they will not yield to authority. The victs or ex-convicts who hav n sent, | ing ba k in his chair and shaking his gray | times more, and from the lower criminal | Suddeniy he pulled sometting from. the | back of the neck just as be arose Lo make | ‘ba-ad’ man in stripes soon loses his nerve. through their apency, to d In | head at the memory of it, *‘but didn’t 1| Georgia, on September 12, 2n ex-convict | tremble when that razor began to slide | shot and killed a good citizen who, as | over my face, and how I did talk to that prosecuting officer, had sent bim to jail. | fellow justas though he'd been my brother! | As the iron doors closed behind him be | «Oh you can 1augh,” he said, “but it vowed vengeance. Immediately on his| o0t 2 pit funny then, and that wasn’t release he sought out his prosecutorand | ¢ worst of it. 1 went to Folsom later, snot him through the heart. | and either had to confess myself a coward There are, undoubtedly, enough persons | or be shaved again, and if 1 didn’t get | at San Quentin and at Folsom pacing their | into the clutches of a fellow I had sent up | cells by day and crouching in ibem by | jor fifty years. I taiked for life then. for night, hearing the tales of crimes and the | T thought that it was a fatality”; and the thoughts of criminals, bating the world | judge opened the drawer and took out a that has banished them and Will never | legter. “This is the sequel. This is a letter | take them back,with self-respect zone and | from the Foisom barber. But I swear,” | only the brute nature left, to deprive us of | he said, after 'a short pause, “that I'll all of our judges and most of the attor- | never be shaved in a prison again—never , if they were free and so inclined. | _T_" He stopped and looked at me. | udge Murphy, who tried Durrant, had | “Now, then, you'il not say that, will you? | in nis private cffice plenty of sunshine | Ot course you won’t."” | and the Judge himself looked satistied in | he light of it and told me that he wasnot 2id and never thought of danger at all. “There are so many of them.” he said, when I looked surprised. “Ihaven’t time to think about them all. Why, there are bundreds and hundreds.” ©And you are not afraid?” o, mo,”’ he eaid, with the falling inflection which implies a slight doubt. hat’s the use in being afraid? I haven’t had many experiences. I remem- ber one when 1 was District Attorney. I| The Judge followed the direction of my hed been prosecuting a man rather bit- | giznce. terly and had been tbreatened several | . received dozens of threatening letters times, but paid o attention. One after- | 4,550 the trial of that case—dozens every noon I took my books under my arm and | 35 Some were anonymous and some started to leave the courtroom,and asl| o e not. Some of them I turned over to neared the door a fellow sprang from the | Ghjer Lees, but nothing ever came of them. crowd and struck at me with aknife. T|y,, gee these people don’t threaten very threw up the books and saved my face, | o4ien if they intend doing anything, be- but it grazed my hand slighuy, The | yyce that puts you on your guard and Sheriff took care of him and I wenton.”” | /jov could be easily punished. Besides it “But I'm not so brave,’’ admitted the ( would only make matters worse for them Judge presently. “You have probably |to commit another crime. Death is not heard of the time I went to San Quentin | courted bv the average criminal about and hadn't had time .0 get shaved before- | here. In London it is different. They hand and went into the prison barber- | have what they call the ‘silent system.’ shop, sat down in the chair and, bappen- | No prisoner is allowed to speak a word or ing to glance at the barber, I recognized a | to turn his head or look at any one. Once negro whom I had prosecuted for cutting | in three months they may receive a letter the throat of a white woman and he had ! or avisit from anear relative. Thatdrives | I was prosecuting a man named Madison P | for assault to murder—he naa split open * the head of his wife and child with an ax, | | but both recovered. | | “Of course not,” I replied. experiences or threats?'’ He glanced carelessly at the well-bound volumes that filled the shelves from tloor 10 ceiling around three walls of the room. Many of them were records of the trial | | proceedings of those whom the law had | heid to answer. To my right five volumes | bound in black leather stared the knowl- | edge into my face that they were the rec- ords of the trial of the people against Theodore Durrant. *Any more | A = TS ’:‘ NVICTS? At first vowing vengeance, his nerve deserts him and, he long erty.’’ o only for libe JEAN MORRIS. The Major's Story. We started out in the early morning from the hotel, the Major carrying a pair of field-glasses, a light overcoat, an um- brella and a book describing the gipries of California. I contented myself with car- rying a smail hamper, and more than once found myself wondering how my companion dared attempt the trip. *Pooh—pooh!” he said, in answer to one of my questions concerning his abil- ity to get through the performance credit- ably. “Pooh—pooh, sir! Thave scaled the Himalayas and the Mountains of the Moon. 1 ascended Popocatapet! ana have crossed the Sahara on foot. Why, sir; 1 could run up a Iitile hill like Tamale pais blindfold and nct even pause to wipe my, forehead!” We said no more on the subject, and finally reached Larkspur, where we began to make the ascent. At the station the thermomster regis- tered 70 degrees, but by the time we had finished the first quarter of the ascent it seemed about a thousand. Presently we arrived at a point about half way up the mountain and the Major suddenly came to a halt. He again waved his arms about and then sat down. “It is too great for speech,” he said, mopping his brow. *The incline?” I ventured. “No, 814 the scenery,”” he thundered with punctuating puffs between each word. *“A litile walk like this occasion- ally is what a man needs to keep him | healthy, sir. Icame of a race of walkers. ( The Blazems, sir, had tramped from Eng- { land to India had there been ny water be- tween the two places. Fork over some grub. Itis 2 o’clock. “Yes, sir,” resumed the Major; “this is easy walking to what I have done in my day. The hardest climb I ever had was on one of those Swiss glaciers. I was alone, for I always prefer to travel with- out guides. As far as the eye coulid see there extended a mighty bed of ice, as flat as a mirror and without a single object on it to relieve the monotony. After walk- ing for three hours it dawned over me that I was making absolutely no progress, though at first T wasata loss to under- stand the reason. “‘Happening, however, (o stand still for one moment I found chat the . lacier was slowly slipping from beneath my feet, and that, although I had keen going through the motions of walking, in reality I had made no progress whatever. I therefore commenced walking in a airection at a right angle to the one I had been taking, and after a short while suc- ceeded in getting, not on terra firma, but on glacier firma acain. But that was the touzhest walk Iever had.”” The Major Lad no sooner finished his, story than he gently dropped off to sleep apparently with a clear conscience. H.V.8