The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, October 24, 1897, Page 20

RANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, OCTOBER 24, 1897 VICISSITUDES OF A NIGHT SPENT IN A FIVE-CENT An old man, afificled with a halting leg, jerking his battered old hvil up the | flame. But as it was there was light | stairs, was ahead of me as I ciimhed up- | enough to reveal a great amount of dirt. | ward in quest of a 5-cent Led. There was an abrupt turi at the first landing and he swung around it at length, leaving the course clear. A pale, un- steady light fell on the stairs from a draught-plagued candle stationed in the transom over the front door. The win- dow cof the transom had been removed and a canves-covered frame with the lodging-house sign had been fustened up outside and thus the candie was doing double duty, gniding the wanderer on the outside 10 a haven of rest and piloting the comer upstairs. On the wall at the left hand at tne en- trance was pasted ‘'article oue’’ of the “'code of rules,” and it was subsequently found to be, with modifications, the only rule. Itwas: *“No drinking allowed this house.” The office was around the curve at the top of the climb, and as one rounded the turn the words **No credit” started out in impertinent suggestiveness and blank in- hospitality. The office boasted another candle. The office was a degenerated kitchen pantry with the shelves removed down to tue hottom one, which served as a desk. The landlord, in a state of deshabille and can- dle-grease, was engaged in a controversy with a guest upon the relative merits of Poriland and San Francisco. he landlord turned hisattention to me. You want a bed ?” “What kind of a bed can I get fora nicke! 2" “Ob, I can give you a nice bed in a nice room for 5 cents,” and he took up the candle and headed down the hail. The hall was narrow—so narrow that when we met a man the landlord was obliged to open a door and we sidetracked into a room to0 let him pass. There were doors on one side,a blank wall on the other, ana the Hoor felt as if 1t had been treated to a molasses bach, the soles ot one’s shoes adhering to it in a manner quite alarming when one stood in one spot for a few seconds. The ftirst room he piloted me to was at the end of the hall. and we looked in. There were three bunks in the hole, one above the other, the top and bottom bunks being occupied. He told me I might bave the middle one. Iput my head inside the doorway, bat the iandlord stood outside with the candle. Had he gone in I am sure the candle would have gone out, there was not Latest Acq £ For a long time the Hopkins Institute has been in need of a set of This need, however, has now been removed masters. as fine as can be made by the best modern in | The door stood open ! LODGING-HOUSE. |air enouzh in the “room” to feed the A pileof it was under the lower bunk that would have balked a Chinese chiffon- | niex. 1 told nim it would hardly do, so }we went back to the ceunter of the hall and mtoa place with a grim door, upon 1 which was painted the figur: five, | “Thisis a nice warm rvom,” he said, | flashing the candle around, “and this is a nice bed,"” indicatis the iower berth, ‘“‘but the top one's the best. Just take a {look at it. That’s a fine healthy bed. You couldn’t sleep in a healthier bed tnan | that.”” I looked at the healthy bed, then around the room. Tue room was about 9 by 12 feet and contained eight of the healthy bLeds, four on either side, but only two | deep, with a sort of shelf above, which could be and had been, judged from the bundles of bedding, used in an emerg- rency. A window on the street side was cur- tained with some cheap materials and an | end of candle about two inches long stood on a bench cver against one of the bunks. Four of the bunks were occupied by sleeping men who meaned and snored away throuzh the dreams of a 5-cent sleep regardless of a very drunken feliow who was sitting oa the feet of one of them in the jower bunk, taking off his shoes and holding an argument with an old man who hada bruised nose and a | strong pipe. Dropping one of the land- lerd’s adj:ctives I could concur with him in regard o the room: it was warm. 1 wanted to sce some more, so I toid the proprietor, who was a very patient |and obliging man, that I would look at another if he pleased, back to the room he was in when I en- tered. gentleman, who, having no one to argue with, was sitting in a trouserless condi- tion, paring his toenails, There was but | one empty bunk there, a lower story, and 1 was abcut to say I would take it when the argurasntative man mounted the !ad- der and took possession of the one above | and sat down on the edze and allowed his bare legs 10 hang down. His feet reached within haif a yard of the lower bunk, and when I saw him fill and lignt his pipe I told my guide to lead me to the door of number five. The merits of the bed were gone over again by the landiord, notwithstanding the fact that I told him it would suit me very well. Then he asked me if it would do. | I told processes. | and told bim 1 was deligh ed. him it would. Then he put his candle down on the floor and poked the adamantine pillow | with his fist and asked me if I thought it | would do. 1 stopd patiently by and said | “Yes.” Then he took up the candle and | turncd the covers back, and asked me if it would suit. Idropped a 5-cent piece into his hand Tnen Le said “Good-night" and wen: away. Iclimbed by means of a recently white- washed ladder to my couch, where I sat as I had seen the Irishman sitting, and | looked down on the drunken fellow who | had proceedel so far in tne act of disrob- ing as to bave his coat, shoes and stock- ings off, which he made into a bundle and stowed away beneath the covers of his | bed, telling all the time how he intended | to perform some great coup in the morn- ing by getting up at 5 o’clock. | He did not say what the nature of bhis proceeding would be, but did inform the assembled company that they were going to zet “left out.” Then he climbed up to his berth, which was on a level ) mine, scross the three-foot awsle, sitling as I was, which | | attitude seems to be one belonging to the | etiquette of 5-cent lodg:ne-hou-es; he heid | Lis trousers in his arms, so as 10 beready | in the morning, he said, and rambled on about the great feal he was going to per- | form in getting ahead of all competitors. It then fell out that he was going to geta | job as dishwasher in a restaurant next | He led away! All had retired except one Celtic | i isition of the Art Insti photographic reproductions of the works of the old , for the association has just acquired nearly 400 reproductions that are day. He finally grew silent and went to slecp, his thin legs dangling over the side of his bunk, his trousers c asped in his arms. 1 looked at my healthy bed. The cov- ers consisted of a blanket and heavy com- fort of no particular color discernible, so dirty and much used were they. Icug down to the underlying strata, which I found to be composed of o straw mattress one and a half inches thick, supported oy a platform of boards. The old Irishman’s pipe bad gone out and he was asleep on bis bunk, with shoes, clothes and ail on and pipe in his mouth. The candle was about burned out and I took 1t and s'epped into the hall. I went down to the end, where the Jand- | lord had +hown me the first room. There 1 found a hall striking off at a rightangle. It led to an spartment where bunks were | arranged in rows over the flour and tne | luxury of an oil lamp was indulged in. 1| found it to be the 10-cent ward. | 1t was late at night and many sounds | assailed the heavy air, and to one stand- ing aioof and listening, it occarred that a 10-cent, yea, a 5-cent, bed was good enough for any man who snored. Ore fellow with whiskers, and nothing else in the way of clothing, was seated on a bunk at the farther end of the room. He bad some article of clothing in his hands. I thought he was maonding his shirt, poor man, when a voung fellow ona cot near the door reached out and poked a man sleeping near him. “Biil, Bill,” he said, *look at the livin® picture!" **Yes,” said Bill, risinz up on one elbow, e’s gittin’ right after 'em, ain’t ’e?” I turned back toward the office and mv short candle failed and went cut. There was one burning on a bench in the narrow passage near the office. Beside it sat a man, bis face in shadow and his hat pulled down. He was a man of sorrowful countenance and would not talk further tnan “um,” and Inever could make much out of such alimited vocabulary. He was spraying the opposite wall with tobacco juice. All was quiet, save a humming of voices behind closed doors and stifled, strangled snores from beneath the heavy bedclothes, when I sought the door of No. 5 azain. **Who's that? What the divil do ye | want in here?"” It was the old Irishman, who became pacific when [ told him who it was, ex- vlaining that the candle had gone out. He t0:d me that he slept there regularly when he was not working. Vs a purty good place for a mon to slape; it bates some I know ay, where they charge ye up as hoigh as fifteen cints. This place is clane an’ noice, an' thin they’'re honest. I'll tell ye what hap- vened me in a lodgin’-house last week. I just sthruck town, an’ whin I wint to bed I put me (lothes innunder me head. 1 baa two dollars an’ a bran new barlow knoife, an’ whin I woke in the marnin’ they was gone. I didn’t care so much for the two dollars, but I hated to lose me barlow knoife; it was agood wan—cost me fifteen cints.” I mentioned my belief that we would find the air better if we raised the window sash, wherein my friend teconded me and started to put the plan into operation. He had no more than started to raise the | creaking trap, however, when a man in the lower bunk near the window woke ur. ““What air you doin’ with that wincer?” he demanded. He was told, “Well, you shet it down—quick! D'ye ] ! | | | | | | sought his bed. i hear? I got a tech of the roomeytiz n my left laig, and I don’t want none of your fresh air around me. If youse fel- lers don’t like it git in another room."” My friend lowered the window and “Yis, it's a good place,” he resumed; *‘an’ the boss is a noice mon an’ a rich mon. Yes wonldn’t t'ink a mon would make much on foive cintses an’ tin cintses, but enough of thim pays. If I had the fill of a boxcyar wit’ ’em I wouldn’t I felt something crawling up my back, and mentioned it to him. “Flays,” said he; *‘flays. Nothin’ else | in th:s house except some few bidboogs. | I’s a noice clane ptuca.’ | I weat out into the hall again, as it was very late, and I had about as much of the nice place as [ desired. | The sound rumbling and ripping and | jolting through the house gave one the | impression of ponderous machinery just | starting, of great cogwheels 1nd massive piston-rods, for the eight men in every one of the {wenty rooms, not counting the 10 cent beds, were snoring. Some notes were high, sharp and quick, like steam being forced through a small escape valve; others ponderous and deep, like grinding cogs; others stiil, like the solemn intonation of a thousand fiying, whirring belts and wheels. The proprietor was sitting on a bench | in his offize, & tin pan full of eggs beside | bim. “Iam going down to a drugstore,” | 1 said; “'will you remember me when 1| come back?’ +Oh, yes; that'sall right; I'll remem- ber you.”” I wonder if he will? Going downstairs I met a young man with a hat like an accordion. He was coming up, and hesmiled when he saw me. | ‘'Are they too tough for you up there?” | he asked. “‘No, L guess not,” I answered, didn’t know what else to say. “A man can reallv get a bed for 5 cents here thou h, can he?" ‘‘Certainly.” The young man laughed. “It's funny how low down a man will get,” he said. *‘Now 1 pever thought I'd be looking for such a lay as this one | time.” { But he seemed to think the lay was a | funny one, for he turned and smiled at | me before he disappeared around the | curve. | I thought that misfortune did im‘lcrdl | | | | i for I | i { | | | | i dercd if the young man would smile when tute | | | | | tears coursing down his cheeks, barely touching her head with his outstretched palm, and in the darkly shadowed buck- ground the smiling, self-satisfied face of a Lothario. This was the painting which brought tears to the eyes of strong men, | and from which women oittimes turned away with sobs but nalf suppressed. Tired of hearing his name on evary- body’s tongu>, wearied of the interviews by the personnel of the press and of being stared at by the mob, Saranac sought the quiet of the Swiss mountains, and thns we tound bim, and together we three made our entry into Berne. The sun had dropped from sight as we strolled out on the cathedral terrace, whero we were served with mecat and bread and wire and watched tite Alpine- | glow creep slowly up from the base to the |summit of the distantsnow mountains | until tie range was aglow with a softly diffused color like a bank of clouds touched by the first pale tints of dawx. Later, from the great organ in the catbedral, we heard the opening notes of «he evening recital, and for an hour or more remained quiet as the mus c crept through the high arches and out under the trees to where we sat. “Thatis Mar- tell,”’ said Saranac, who knew him well, and when the lights were finaily extin- guished in the organ-loft we strolled up to the door and met him as he emerged into the night with nis roll of music in nis banid. We thanked him for our enjoyment of the time, and then Saranac, in his 1mpul- sive way, exciaimed: ©I like music best at dawn. It seems more glad and joyous then—a welcome to the Lreaking day. At aight music should run in the minors and the time is better fiited for a requiem.’’ Then Martell, who felt a certain pride in Saranac’sapproval, said he would play for us on the morrow when ail the' town was sleeping. And so we soughtan inn ana slept away our day’s fatigue until the gray light came creeping up the eastern sky. Matincheff and I hzstened 10 the cathedral, but Baranac and Martell were there befure us. We sat down by the altar rail and soon, grandly and triumphantly, the organ turst forth in notes of welcome to the dawn. Somehow my hands would not be stitl. The great window in the cast was | | | LAKE LUCEEN:. quenchable light that burned before the crucitix. To my surprise Saranzc had mounted a canvas on an easel and was painting with strokes of amazingz rapidity as the organ played, and then ail at once 1 found my- self writine—I knew not what, save that in me the great sea of human hopes and asprations seemed swelling like the bil- lowy deep as though to force my soul from its environmentof clay, Then as Saranac paused I put aside my pen. Krom the organ came a repetition of the theme, and then I ke a flash of wondrous light a marvelous tenor voice rang through the echoing arches ana fillel the great nave and transept with a flood of melody. We s'02d, wondering who the singer was, His song opened with the high C, without & note of preparation, so daringly the effort thrilled us through, then in dimin- uenao falling into mezzotones, and rising to the opening notes, the voice died ten- derly away to silecce. We heard the clicking of the organ stops and then the steps of the organist and singer as they came, “‘That is Monsteur Bloch,” said Sarsnac; ‘“only he can sing like tbat.” And he it was. ‘We turned our eyes to Saranac’s canvas | “Why, thet is what I sang! 1 never had the words before; they seemed to come to vlayed. You must have caught them as I sar But | me with the air as Martell while to his breast his hands were clasped, | sai make some strange belfellows, and won- | he came down the stairs in the morning. G. W. 0. I protested earnestly, for they were penned tefore this song broke forth. And so it seemed our souls lay in a | common plane, all touched alike by na- ture’s harmonies, but seeking for expres- sion differentiy. And ail this time Ivan said no word until we turned, end on bis face there lay a light of inspiration, 1d, as the tears came 10 his eyes, d, “I feel it here.’” So I have grown to think the grandest sweeps of melody are those borne on the unguessed tides; that ebband flow in bu- man hearts, and most inepiring canvases are those imagination paints upon the star-gemmed vault of heaven. Though unto me has come no gift of song, oittimes when rambling over the wind-swept hills in the gray reaches of the dawn I half imagine I can catch the echoing of celestial harmonies and dim|y he BERNE AND THE BERNESE OBERLAND. 4 tant shore lay smiling in the sun. | see the rapt and upturned faces of that Then ! turned to my not s and read, | choir kneeling in adoration at the foot- and to my wonder Bloch exclaimed: |stool of the throne. H. R. HurLsuT. dim with mapy changing lights and shades uniil the sun broke forth and sent shafis of crimson flame undulating through the vast arcbes, paling the un- curiously. In that brief time he had brought forth a marvei of light and color. A broad shaft of licht broke on a storm- swept sea and grasey stretches on the dis- Pe‘;c‘ac_ierc_)'s JVI Nearly everybody in California has The first of the set was presented by James D. Phelan a few months ago, galleries of Paris, London and Berlin. prints. vantage. and consisted of 115 prints of pictures in the The school committee then set aside a fund for the purchase of several hundred more All of these prints have just been placed in position and are arranged so that they can be studied to the best ad- ysterious Beach of Sh ining PebbTeg of the finest of stones. The same occuz- @ | Tence has repeated 1tseli many times. In all the years this has been going on nobody has been able to give a satisfactory | explanation of it. The large pebbles haye been found in parts of the beach never touched by the waves exce in stormy The prints are now arranged in the room at the northeast corner of the building on the second floor. A number of them are hung on the walls, but the majority of them are in swinging fram°>s mounted on 1ron stands In the center of the room This room is well lighted and the frames are at the best height for stuly. All of the prints are equally accessible. Chiefly interesting in this collection are the prints of the pictures in the Hermitags Gallery in St. Petersburg, Russia. For various reasons the Hermitage Ga lory is inaccessible to the general public, and the chances are that it will remain so for many vears to come. This makes it evident that few will ever see the treasures hanging on its walls, and the reproductions | heard of the pebbis beach of Monterey. of them are therefore of greater value than they would otherwise be. This marvelous collection was gotten together by Empress | [ts fame is world wide, but comparatively Catherine. | few have Leard of the pebble beach of i ¢ 5 o S | Pescadero. In fact, many old Californians Among the reproductions of pictures from this collection are works by Botticelli, Cranch, Van Dyck, Frans Huls, Pieter | have exprassfl.lfl xnrprlsz when told thit de Hoogh, Amtrosius Holbein, Lam eret, Luiai, Metsir, Murillo, Paul Potter, Raphael, Jan Steen, Gert Terburg, Titian, Valesquez, Leonardo da Vinci and Walleau. !, Rembrandt, Ribera, Rubens, Ruysdael, | there was a rebble beach there. “Why, | Ididn’t think there was anything but The above picture of the rooms is from a photograph taken for THE CALL. THE EGHO OF GELESTIAL MELODIES The ease of travel by rail and noat is always very enticing, but to one who has the time and inclination to tramp a rambling tour through the highways ana byways of Swiizerland is like n dream of varadise. From a swiftly moving train the views are 109 kaleidoscopic, but when one walks and can pause to Jisten to the music of the Waters dancing over pebbly beds, or the roar of angry torrents in the mountain | chasm:—can hear the yodling song of the hunter on the Alpine steeps, or bend to Taise a fallen bowlider from a bruised shrub, he gathers a knowledgs of Alpine trayel that will live in his heart forever. Thus Ivan Matinchefi, a young surgeon from the Royal Hospital at Sofia, Bulgaria, had with me idled away more than a week | along the devious roadway winding ab ut for one hundred miles and more from | lausanne, on Lake Genevs, to the pic- turesque eity of Berne, in the heart of tha Beruese Oberland. From the high points as we pa-sed we saw at first the matchless panorama ot Lake Geneva, with her scattered villages; the heights of Miellerie and @isiant Mont Blanc, chanzing later 10 the snowciad heights of the Bernese Alps, and finally, several mules distant, we saw the spires and red roofs cf the town. A turn in the road and we overtook an artist, with the implements of his art thrown careless!y beside him and content- | ediy munching sausage and bread, which he wasbed down with an cccasional !draught of wine. To my surprise and delight this proved | to be an old friend—Saranac—and our ex- pressions of mutual gratification resulted in a completion of his aiready alarming inroads upon his wine supply. Fresh as we were from Paris we marveled much to find him here. All Paris bad been ring- ing with his praises. | Borue ou the shoulders of the s‘udents of I'Ecole des Beaux Arts, he wes the toast of the clubs and cafes, the ged of the fair sex and the pride of all Bohemia. In Paris that season to know Saranac was to have the entry to the finest homes of the | gay French capital, and to by his friend wus 1o share the public adulation. Saranac! His pictures had been the talk | of the Salon, and the one painting whieh had eclipsed all others gave to him the first prize of the extibition and won for him the assurance of that posthumous glory of a niche in the Galery of the Louvre, he had entered as “Tempest Tossed.” % Those who first heard the name gath- ered from it some marvelous scene of 1he sea—some battered hulk, wave-washed on threatening rocks—but where the great throngs gathered, where a double cordon of gendarmes kept back the struggling mass crowding continuallv against pro- tecting chains, was a familiar theme, but surely never handled with so masterful a brush before—the picture of a broken woman, a woman abandoned, her hall- naked infant resting against her knees, the baby’s eyes smiling wonderingiy at ke lookers-on; the mother, with a world of woe and wretchedness, of despair and shame on ber worn face; a priest, with few dairies and a lighthouse at Pesca. dero,” are the words used by mostof them when informed of a fact that should be well known, In many aspects the pebble beach at Pescadero is the most interesting phe- nomenon of its kind in existence. Most of the besches of this character give out after teing picked over a few years. Kven the one near Monterey is no exception to the rule, as can be proved by attemnpting to find a fine pebble any larger than a pea. It cannot be done, as the larger ones have long ago been all carried away. The beach at Pescadero is strange, al- most mysterious, in this respecr, as some of the largest pebbles ever found there were picked up during the past vear. In fact, one of the largest and most beautiful of these stones ever found was picked up by one of the Pigeon Point lightkeepers, It was so neariy-like an opal—brilliant and fuil of fire—that it had to be looked at several times before one became con- vinced it was only gravel of a chalcedony formation, polished by the action of the surt grinding it against othersof the same kind. The question is, Where do all the large and beautiful pebbles come from? The beach has been picked over by the people living in the town of Peccadero and the surrounding country for thirty years, Huudreds of beautiful stones have been i i | i PORTION OF THE PESCADERO PEBBLE BEACH, found, and some nave been sold for large sums. It woula seem as it all the larger ones shou!d have been carried away long ago, but this is the mysterious aspect of the pebble beach of Pescadero. Many days people will go out to the beach and search in vain for heurs. Peo- ] ple will even dig at low tide without find- one occasion forty people were hunting at the same time without any finding a sin- gle stone worth having. The next morn- ing some boys went out and ! found Iying in full view, right on the sur! 4 face, sevy ing a single pebble larger than a pea. On | weather. Ana even ifthere S 2 possie bility of the pebbles being washed in, the fact remains that the line of gravel does not extend to the water’s edge at low tide, On the whole it has been a most puz- zling question, and the only possible ex- planation of it is that somebody puts the pebbles tiere during t e night. This of course is impracticable and hardly probe | able enough to conv.nce, but really it looks that way. The Pescadero pebble beach lies among bowlders and at about noon when the sun isshininzon it it is dazzling in the ex- treme. Each pebble, damp from the sea, | flashes like a diamond until the whole beach is one blinding glare. The bowiders are not of the same formation asthe peb- bles. In faci, they are dark and ugly and look as f they did not belong there. Bug the beach-would lose half its charm wiihe out them, no doubt. Pabbies can be found along the Pesca- aero beach for over half a mile, Good ones are as likely to ve found in one place 1" another. They have even been picked up on the hi'ls 500 feet from the b-eakers, Of course, there is some simple explana- | tion of how the pebbles shif themselves, | 80 as to appear at unexpected times, but | what it is has not yet been ascertained. Aad until that is Jdohe the little bit of | mystery will only :dd to the many eral | curiosities, charms of one of California’s natural