The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, October 31, 1897, Page 26

26 THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY,» OCTOBER 31, 1897. THE STORIES OF OUR OWN STATE. HE judges who have been selectea to decide concerning the merits of the stories and the headings prepared competi- tively by our young people for*“The Young Authors’ Page’ are: Reginald H. Webster, Superintendent of Schools of San Francisco; C. B. Stone, Deputy Su- perintendent of Schools of San Francisco, and J. Kahler, the chief artist and head of the art department of THE CaLL. The first two named gentiemen will say what stories are entitled to take place on “The Young Authors’ Page’’ in the posi- tion of honor as the best five. Mr. Kahler has kindly promised to examine and judge | the headings designed and drawn by the | young readers of THE CALL. The story-tellers and the yoang artists have one more day in which to mail their productions. Any letter showing by the postmark that it is placed in the mail to- morrow will come within the terms of the competition. During the present week | the stories and thedrawings will be placed in the hands of the judges. They may not report during the present week. That no one may be disapvointed next Sunday morning by failure to see “The Young Authors' Page,’ the announcement is | made that the page wiil be published Sun- day morning, November 14. The thanks of the young authors and young artists are due to the judges, who | have patriotically promised to serve for | the purpose of giving deserved encourage- ment to the young. They are all busy | men, but they have neard the voices of | the children, and they have surrendered | their leisure to do & public service. Many cf the stories about California are | of such excellent quality that, as they cannotall go on one page,itis probable that there will be a second authors’ page. In such a case the second page will be as handsome as the first. The editor of the page ventures the opinion that the chil- | dren and also the parents will be surprised at the showing that the young authors | and artists have made, because it is so very creditable. Next Sunday the Bumpkins, who are to-day seen at work writing stories and making drawings for “The Young Authors’ Page,” may succeed in getiing some of their work into print. If they send in a story after what has happened | to the bobcar at the foot of Market street and the fate they are said to be meting out to the granger, itis safe to say that the story will be published. What 40 you think about it? FIRST COMIC DRAWING LESSON. OOK at these two sets of outlines care- fully. Then try to draw them. Do they remind you of the smiling face of one of the world’s best-known singers? Ifso, whatis that singer’s name and residence? Isita man orisitalady? And what song does the singer most affect? As to the out- Lines, what are they? Did you ever see any prima donna’s picture in which a hat or bonnet was at all suggestive of these | hat were listening to every word. | arowing chilly. { and whispering her love and content. curves? Itmay amuse you to try to draw in a face and see if it will fit such head- ‘wear. But, suppose that it shonld not be a bonnet after all? Turn the lines upside down and study them. What do they look like now? Did you ever see a man with such a long nose and such a queer beard? Oh, just keep guessine. Tne edi- tor has seen the pictures and knows what the final one is. The secret cannot be toid untll next week. Then these outlines will be repeated, and otters will be added. If you learn to draw them all you will then be able to make an accurate portrait of a vocalist who is making a great deal of noise in the public ear. In the meantime here is & way to draw & picture of a funny little being in three strokes. FAIRY PAINTERS OF THE FOREST. ID you ever notice how the trees and bushes put on colored dresses in the fall and become gay in reds and browns and yellows instead of their usual sober green? Would you like to hear how they come to change their dresses then ? A wood squirrel said of me: *Just look et her sitting on that stump keeping me from my work when I am so busy I haven’t time to brush my tail! Here is winter at hand and snow not two moons off, and I must stand idle for fear of a mortal who may have a gun 1n her pocket, snd what would my poor wife do it I eghould be taken home by a mortal and kioned ?’ “Nonsense, Gray,” chattered a little squirrel over my head. ‘‘she won't hurt a0 (IR L; e~ [TED BYDIVI L L’]) us. She likes to watch us work, and once [ I heard ber langh when [ madea joke. | and she is as much afraid of a gun as we | are.” } Ilooked up and nodded my thanks to the little fellow, and smiled at old Gray as he stole gingerly out to go on with his work, and soon they were gossiping away about their families and neighbors as freely as thougzh no mortal in dress and 01d Gray told the story of his early life, and it was very interesting. After awhile | 1 slipped down into a bed of leaves, and I think I went to sleep, for when I opened my eyes the red Ociober sun was sin ing behind the hill, and the wind was 1 should have gotten up and hurried home, but for a whisper in the oak that I had never heara before. So I closed my eyes in make-believe sleep and listened. “Yes,” said the voice in the tree, *‘the fairies will come to-night. They will dress the wild grape first, leaf by leaf, in bright | red.” “May I not be dressed in yellow this | time?" asked the vine in a fretful voice. | “I have worn red at every party we have had and this oak, my partner, has worn | yellow. Why may I not be yellow or | brown?” “Perhaps,” said the oak, her partner, sternly, ‘‘my companion would like to be dressed in black at once. I have hearc of the fairies getting angry and clothing the whole forest in mourning in one night. That was before the vine grew, and the mortals called it a black frost. Letthe vine be content. She is the most beauti- ful of the forest people in her rosy autumn | dress and my love for her could notbe | greater.” | The vine said no more that I could | hear, but I knew by the soft rustle and flutter tLat passed through her leaves that she was clinging close to the strong oak Then the great oak above me went on | in his grave, kind voice: “The beautiful | vine'need not desire changs. The fairies | knowwhat best suits each one of us. Long | ago I had a slender vine twining about me, and in the autumn she wore the same vright dress, and the whole forest felt the warmth of it. Now she has turned into the dustabout my feet and I am alone, and am glad to wear no brighter color than the sober brown the fairies always give me.” A soft sigh came from the forast in | memory of the dead vine, and then the oak went on: “The maples will be dressed in all the colors, bright and rich. because they are | light and young, and the fairies love them | best to dance under. The oaks will be | yellow and brown, as usual, with some | spots of red, and the manzanita—"" “We will be biue like the sky!” rattled the stiff manzanita leaves by my head. | “We will not ve red, or brown, or yellow like the common forest people. Our wood is beautiful, and we will have the color of the sky for our leaves or we wiil not go to the party at all!” Silly bush,” said the oak, “will you never learn that the October leaves have | none of the sky color? Year after year | you have clamored for it, and each time have been told that the April fairies use it all for bluebells and the other heaven- tinted blossoms. A soft yellow against your red bark would make you a spot of such beauty the fairies would join hanas and dance about you each night. Ana you know if you are cross they will pass you by and the cold ice of winter will gather on your green dress until your leaves rattle with the cold. But have your own way and bear your punishment. I| have said my say.’’ The manzanita gave a cross iittle shake and then all was still. [ lay quiet, though the air was bitterly cold, to see if the oak would speak again. Seeing he would not, Istole away, my nose tingling with frost and, as I hastened home in the moonlight, I fancied I saw a legion of little men with brushes busy painting the leaves of the vine, and that one took off his pointed cap and made me a bow. The nextday I went back. The oak was silent, the squirrels very busy, and lo, the wild grapevine had become a twining cord of bright red winding round ana round ths oak, its companion. I took one of the crimson leaves to press, and as I went away I heard the young squirrel say: “I wonder if she knows the October fairies are painting the forest for their Hallow- een party.” 1 did know, and I tell you, and if you go into the woods the day before Halloween youwill find the trees dressed just as the old oak said they should be, and the green manzanita still angry because she could not have ieaves the color of the sky. Mrss MARY. | THE CRUISE OF THE CALIF ORNIA [SYNOPSIS OF THE PRECEDING CHAPTER.] Biante and Ned of San Francisco, ‘Shorty” of San Jose, Tom of Fresuo, Billy of Oakland and Sam of Los Angeles, the California boys who were atCamp Call in Shasta County, were asked to journey on the steam yacht California to the s he owner of the yacht. | hey were all permitted o0 accept the invitation. They are now =ailing on the Californis, accompanied by Harry Ostend, Harold Lane, who is Bionie’s father, John Letour, agreat traveler, a “black fellow” from Australia, who can follow & biind trail even better than North American Indian, and the men who are needed to sall the yacht. Copyrighted 1897, CHAPTER IL HERE AWAY? “‘Now that we are fairly started,” said Harry Ostend,when Binnie thus asked bim what part of the earih or ocean he was seeking. "I don’t mind teiling you that we are off for New Guinea.” “What are we to do there?” Harry Ostend smiled. “That is hard to say,”’ be remarked good-naturedly. “There is a part of the interior that I have never explored fully. There is enough about that part that is out of the common to in- terest ail of you boys, as well as myself, 1 fancy, but we shall see.”” “Why,” said Binnie, “I have heard that there were cannibals there for one thing.” *“Yes,” assented Harry Ostend, *‘there vage Islands of the South Seas, by Harry Ostend, ( BUMPKINS WITI are a good many cannibals there. At least there were when 1 was there be- | fore.” “‘Are we going just to see the country?”’ “My inquisitive young friend, that is a part, but not all. I have explained the ; whole to your father. But, if you boys are concerned enough to all come aft, so that I can tell once for all and not have to go over the ground twice, I will let you into the secret.” The six wide-awake California boys needed no second invitation of this sort In a minute an interested and interesting group were gathered about the Iather of this excursion and were listening with ever increasing wonder to what Mr. Os- tend had to say. Tnereis an interesting story that must be told here that the pur- pose that Mr. Ostend had in view may be fully understood. “On the 16th of last September,” said Harry Ostend, “‘the bark Mavo, with a cargo of various sorts, wasat Calcutta. I was there at the time and found on board of the bark (by the way, I never miss a chance to talk to a sailor, because sailors are the most interesting people on earth to one who like myself is after informa- tion concerning the strange things of the earth) an old friend, Captain Charles Gardner of New Bedford, Mass. *‘The captain and I have maae several /7 & = CALIFORNIA STORIE voyages together. In fact, we are old friends. 1f we had not known each other so well [ think I might not have been so confident - that his story was strictly true. As it is, there is no doubt of its entire accuracy. The captain took me into his private cabin and locked the door. Then he took out from a locker a sandalwood box with brass hinges. “ ‘In this, said the captsin, ‘is a queer | manuseript that was given to me in New Guinea. I have been able to translate 1t, with the help of the ship’s carpenter, who | is a scholar.” “I read the manuscript carefully and made a copy of it. I will not weary you lads with the particulars, but this is tbe voiut of it all: The writing was by a German sailor, who is at this time a King | 1n the interior of New Guinea.. He cannot get away. He has two sons in Germany, who have advertised for information about him. I inquired all about these boys. They did not seem to me the sort to make the trip into the place where their father is virtually a prisoner. So I went to San Francisco, organizeo this party, with the assistance of Mr. Lane, and here we are. That is all there is to it.” “So we are going to the heart of New Guinea?"” “That is the idea exactly.” “How are we to get the King away from his fond subjects?’’ “Ah! You are asking me too much?” “But we shall get bim?” asked Ned. “Without a doubt.” The six boys looked at Harry Ostend with new interest. There was nothing of bravado about him. He evidently meant just what he said, and there was some- thing about him that gave them all confi dence that he would try todo just what he proposed and that he would succeed. But to go—only nine men and boys among thousands and thousands ot sav- ages, cannibals at that, and, after travel- ing hundreds of miles through an nun- known land, to try to abduct a king and carry him away from his subjects; then to retrace their steps and defend them- selves as best they could, all the time liv- ing on the country—that seemed like the most unheard-of adventure. But if any one could do this undoubtedly the man for the exploit was this same prompt, de- cided, cool, experienced Harry Ostend. What a talk the boys had after they had left Mr. Ostend and had gone to the cabin | for “a council of war.”’ “This is not one California town com- peting with another?” said Tom of Fresno. “This is California against the cannibals of almost a continent.” “Will we stop anywhere on the way?’' | Binnte asked of his father. “No; we want to get there as soon as possible.” There was enough in the situation and what it promised 1o excite the boys highly. “If,”” said Harry Ostend later in the | day, “there is any one of you who would rather stay with the yacht when we get | to New Guinea he can do so, of course. I do not expect to get the German away | without trouble. We will sometimes be | many miles from the yacht and sur- | rounded by hostile savages. There will | be danger. I will not deny that. Think it all over fully before you give me your answers.” Back out? None of the boys felt in- clined that way. “Very well, then, I see that no mistake was made in selecting this party. I can now say that I liked your looks thoroughly when I first saw you. Now it will be ‘California forever’ with me from now on.” Several weeks passed without much thut was exciting. The boys practiced loading and firing two small cannons which were on the deck of the California, and also learned to handle a Gatling gun very well. “We wili be ready for pirates or sav- ages,” Harry Ostend said, at the close of one day’s gun practice. That very night the crew of the Cali- fornia, in open ocean, came in contact with savages, and what then happened was destined to lead them through strange and exciting adventures, D. H. W. (To be continued.) THE CHILD HEART. | The child heart is so strange a littie thing, So mild—so timorously shy and small- When grown-up hearts throb it goes scamp- ering Behind the wall, nor dares peer out at all, It is the veriest mouse That hides in any house— So wild & thing is any child-heart. Child heart! Miid heart! James WHITCOMB RILEY. S. HOW THE S NID NOD TOWN RACE, Grace!” called her mother, *aren’t you awake yet? The sun was up long ago.” “I don't see why it shou!d rise so early, Oh, I am so sle-epy,” answered Grace drowsily. But just thén, hearing a great noise outside, she jumped up wide awake and rushed 1o the window, where she saw thestreet full of excited people, all hurry- ing in one direction. 0 Nellie!” she called to a friend be- low her window. . “What is it? Where are you going?” Bat Nellie only stopped long enough to answer, “All the people in town are mad at the sun for rising so eariy, so they are going to the town hall to havea meet- ing about it. You'd better come.” “Why, that's just what made me so provoked this morning,” thought Grace. She dressed as quickly as possible, and then rushed out after her father, mother and brother, who had already gone to the meeting. As she approached the town hall Grace heard the big beli ringing, and found a great crowd about the door. She managed to slip inside and fortunately found a seat at the rear. All was noise and confusion. Au old woman loudly declared that the sun woke her too early every morning; another ac- cused him of cooking the vegetables in | her garden by shining so long each day, while a man shouted that his sprinkling- cart could not keep the roads moist, for the sun’s rays dried them up so fast. Truly, the days were too long. Finally, when Grace’s head was fairly in a buzz, an old man, with a long, pointed beard and snow-white curls falling to his shoulders, who reminded her of pictures of Merlin the wizard, arose from his crimson velvet chair and solemnly rapped for silence. “Brother and sister Nid-nodders,”’” he be- gan pompously, “since it appears that the sun rises too early at this time of year ot suit us all, to what hour will you ask him to change?” Instantly the talk buzzed forth again, some shouting one hour, some another, and then they 2ll fell to wrangling. The Mayor listened in patience awhile, but finaliy said, “Good peoyple, it is evident that you cannot agree upon an hour to be named. Therefore, I, myself, will sog- gest 6 o’clock.” “'Ohb, no!"’ cried Grace, springing to her feet. ‘‘Please don’t say that early, Mr. Mayor. I just hated to get up this morn- ing. Can’t you say an hour later?"” “Yes, yes,”” criea all the people. us haye 7 o’clock.” “If that is your will, so be it,”” answered the Mayor, graciously, “and I will imme- diately telegraph to the sun requesting the change.” All the people shouted for joy, but none were 80 happy as Grace herself. Another long delicious hour to sieep in the morn- ing, sbe thought, forgetting entirely tnat it the sun changed his time the clock would not. So she tripped merrily away to school, and afterward she and Nellie played all day long. When 8 o’clock came Grace begged to be allowed to sit up to finish a story, but it was 10 before she reached the last page. Next morning, alas! Grace quite overslept herself. When she awoke with a start she found it was half-past 8, and she had but half an hour in which to get to school. Then how her fingers flew! At breakfast a new trouble met her. “I can't imagine why the milkman doesn’t come,” said her mother anxiously. “'I used all last night’s milk on the bread this morning; so I'm sorry, hut there’s none left for your mush, Grace.” | “The stupid old thiug,” said Grace peevishly. “What on earth is the matter with him? He’s never failed us before.”” She hurriedly ate a few mouthfuls, sorely missing her accustomed mush, and then started off. Just then she saw the milkman ride into the yard yawning and digging his fists into his eyes. “He's overslept, too,” laughed her father. Grace felt she had begun the day baaly, and somehow everything else went wrong. She and several others were late to school, so the teacher kept them all in ten minutes at recess and scolded them. “‘Remember,” she said, “if the sundoes rise an hour later now you must all be up in time to get to school by 9 o'clock.”” At last Grace began to realize she had rather overlooked the fact that the time of day was always just the same, and re- solved that she would not again overaleep. “Let OVER THE HILLS AND FAR Aw;\\y{’ Over the hills and far away A little boy steals from his morning play, And under the blossoming apple-tree He lies and he dreams of the things tobe; Of battles fought and of great deeds done, Of the valor that he shall prove some day Over the hills and far away— Over the hills and far away ! UN ROSE IN Al that day she was tired and cross, “I’'m going to bed very early to-night,” she announced after dinner. She was moving off when brother Jack called aiter her: “I say, Grace, would you like to get ap at 6 to-morrew and go fishing up the river?—Helio!"” he broke off, ‘I clean for- got that the sun doesn’t rise until 7 o’clock.” That was the climax for poor Grace. She burst into tears of vexation and flung out of the room. For awhile the world seemed very dark, and she called the sun all sorts of names. Then she quieted down and went to bed. But, alas! by 6 o’clock next morning Grace was lying awake in the darkness and, try as she would, she could not get to sleep again. A very disgusted little girl went down to breakfast that day. “Papa,” she said, I believe we all made a mistake in asking the sun to riseso much later. I've had just a horrid time these last two days. Guess he knows his own business best after all.” : «Well, daughter, most people in N nod have begun to think the same thi and so several of us are going to see Mayor about it right away.” At lunch, however, Grace’s father hadl no good report to make. “The Mayor's office was full of people on the same errand, but at first he safd bargain was a bargain. Later, though, b was persuaded to telegraph again to t sun, but Mercury, the secretary, answere that the change back to the old ho could not possibly be made until the year was out.” *‘On, dear!” wailed Grace. “Yes, for the sun had just sent word to all the ontlying stars, planets and comets, and they have already begun to move ac- cording to the new system.” “Wall, it just serves the silly Nid-nod- EUGENE FIELD, | ders right!” said Jack, gloomily. “Till the year isout!”’ criea Grace, *‘Oh, dear, just think of the short days!” she began to cry. ““Why, Grace,” said a voice ia her ear, and with a start she awoke in earnest this time. ‘‘Aren’t you ever going to get up? I called you a Tong time ago.” “Right away, mamma,’’ answered Grace, and sighed. with great relief as she sprang out of bed. EvGENIA B. MAYBURY. SUGGESTED BY A BLOT. [4n AU Souls’ Day Test.] And “Let’s try our fate,” says Jack to Nan; ‘‘Selecting each a kernel of corn, We'll put them in a very hot pan; Pop toward each other, as sure's you're born, We are friends forever and aye.” But, O deary me, they sprang apart! And then, right there, with & tiny shriek, There leapt from out the kernel’s heart An elfin sprite, with snow-white cheek; Cried Nan, “Dear little elf, do stay.” “This world is much too large for me,” Said-the fluffy little elfin white, “But I came to show you, don’t you see, You must not trust a thing so light As a grain of corn your life to sway.” L F, < SEA LIONS’ CANDY-PULL ULVER has given us his idea of hoy R the little girl sea lions, assisted ( by some rather mischievous boy sea lion; enjoyed themselves at a candy-pull party. It will be agreed by all the little girls that a candy-pull is *“Jast too sweet for anv- thing.” Next time you have a candy-puil pnrty ask your mamma to invite some sea lions and hear them sing. But it is just as funny to hear them laugh. In the meantime Culver will let the children see how the littie sea'lions look and actat their dancing class. You may laugh at the musicians and at the little sea lions, and they will not care. The dancing class is held in a cave, under the largest of the seal rocks. The dancing-hall is decorated with kelp and beams from wrecked ships and seashells, but next week you will see, and there is areal orchesira. You will see sll this next Sunday. ‘‘Take the high tide to swim home on at 3 A. ».” OUR CORRESPONDENTS. ANTOINETTE CRAWFORD, C. R. C., writes: “Ihave a pair of pigeons. They are ot full grown and are just squabs. They are of dii- ferent coiors—one white and one chocolate wnd gray. My brother George has two pairs of pigeons, three navy blue and one chocolate and white. It is great fun to feed them and watch them scramble, and hear their pbills on the wood like a telegraph instrument. How many readers of the boys’ and girls’ page have seen spun glazs? I have a pin of it, as fine as silk threads, of white and yellow glass. I liked the stories about Camp Call, and T am sure that Ishall like ‘The Cruise of the Cali- fornia.’ " GRACIE M. SCHEEL writes: “I am 9 vears old and go to the Hearst Grammar 3chool. I amin the third grade and expect to be pro- moted at Christmes. I had a birthday party on Ostober 15 and I invited all my friend: We had a nice time. I read the cmldren? page every Sunday and like 1t very much.” MISS E. M. SLOCOMBE—Your poem of *“Tne Humming Bird” is very pretty. It wiil be published. FLOYD SMITH, C. R. C., 21 Bartlett street has written a California story much out of the rut. ELINOR B. MERRILL: Your story lbo'l’ California has been received. You should send your picture, for there is a chance that you will be found on “The Young Authors’ Page.”” All the writers have a chance. \ that it was a relief when evening cam ‘ |