The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 21, 1897, Page 26

THE SAN FRANCISCO ALL, SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 1897. FOR THAT GONEFEELING . USE ANT1.-FAT. N A PRANESY LN €dited DA\}id_;H_.\/;/qlker: Roadon MY N = NN 4\‘“1 !, A SO by HANKSGIVING. TOUCH of November f and the sun, likeal , finds it very warm, comfortable s in the | little boy | i to leave his | cold morning anksgiving time, has plenty to people, who, but for t think the, or gir ise to be than world. very late in t e morning Poily Merrill’s | rere he sees too | e to think of leaving in a beautiful sto ds of dolls—Ir h to a keautiful Paris of funny bla at can rers long and 1o gly on Polly’s e window, for he hing is wrong s so much y. her to mother's ‘‘Are you ! Did not Jane give you you were to be ready by I want you to go with me to to dine with us on Thanks- Hurry up, darling; the car- want to ng serious for 1 b will certainly wait when Jane ng, Twas want to g din- | mamma, You ought to be | ou have so much | happy.’ i me girl who | i never hasa, vear round. I have hinking ever siuce, beauiful plan if you nma.” own and took the little “I am afraid I consent | y too often to your plans, Polly, dear, | I hope this one it not something very | I have been thinking | n the year we have a good dinner, and so d ties. Now, if | we only could stay at home | this time and invite the little lame girl and some of her friends instead whata | jolly good time we could give them. Ob, | do say yes, mamma.” ‘ that every day Mrs. Merrill looked at the eager little girl and nesitated. “Your plan sounds very enticing, dear, but what could we to your aunts? They fully expect to be invited. It has been a family custom for many years to meet in my home Thanksgiving day.” *“Ob, mamm you are going to say no,’’ cried poor little Polly. “Folly, are you willing to help me but of my difficulty if I say yes?”’ *Oh, try me, mamma; I am willing to help you any way I can.”” And Polly be- gan to laugk and clap her hands. “Very well. Run and ask Jane to put your things on, and you must go with me and explain to all the aunts why they are not to be invited this year. And I believe their love for you will excuse my weakness in the matter.” Polly fairly flew, and in two minutes they were off. Each aunt was visited, and it was as Mrs. Merrill had prophesied. The little girl’s eager words and happy | face worked complete forgiveness all ound. Directly after luncheon, with Jane in the carriage to direct the way, they started out to hunt up the little lame girl. Jane was almost as much excited as Polly herseli. After riding many squares they came at last toa poor, litile alleywsy. Up a rickety stairway they climbed to a forlorn little | room. The sun had been there, too, tha morning, but did not linger long. Little Jame Alice, in a chair near th window, sees her visitors enter, and look- ing 1nto Polly Merrill's happy face per- ceives more sunshine than has ever en- tered her room before. And what bappiness they bring to the poor little child! With delight untold she lisiens to the wonderful plan for Thanksgivicg day. Her pleasuroincreases tenfold when she finds that five of ner friends are to be included in the invita- tion. Thanksgiving day dawns bright and clear. Early in the afternoon Mrs. Mer- rill’s carriage was sent for the six little girls, and what a happy day Polly gave them. Little lame Alice played with the beautiful French doll, and that pretty room was like fairyland to those poor little waifs. But the dinner, after all, was the best partof it. How they did eat! Perhaps they ate more than was good for them, but dear little Polly only wished they might eat two dinners. She gave away so many of her toys that her pretty room looked quite bare and empty. But, with a heart full of happiness, she saw her guests depart, for she knew she had brought one perfect day into six little lonely lives. “Jane,” said Polly on her way to bed that pight, “1 am very sorry for my poor | 8he gradu inties, but 1 very much fear they eare| e with us again on Thanks-| Mary Morgis Lioyp. | A THANKSGIVING IN THE MINES. BY CLARA KENNEDY. | au never to di HERE lived in the Sierra Nevada | Mountains, in 1834, a man named | Peter Hopkins and his little girl, | called. i a very much for this nice birthday party, and [ hope you will all have one as nice some day."” THE STORY*OESTHE OLD SCHOOL SONGS. WO old ladies were sitting by the open fireplace, where a pine log was cheer- S fully burning, the blaze lapping its when he | California, or Cally, as she was usually | scarlet tongues up the back of the chim- ney. A FAIRY TALE OF CALIFORNIA. | BY A. MARGUERITE WEEKS. N THE good old days when fairies used to haunt hill and vale there lived a king named Desire and his beautiful wife, Rosabella. Although this king and queen had no children they were very happy until one day when they went to visit two other royal rulers. This couple had one little golden-haired SGENE FROM THE STORY BY CLARA KENNEDY OF GOODYEAR'S BAR. Cally was seven years old when her| mother died. They were living in Ken- tucky then. Then her father got the gola fever, sold out and came West with some | neighbo: They stopped at a little min- | ing town and her father built them a log cabin. There were about ten miners living there. The town consisted of a few cabins and a store and postoflice in one, where the miners spent almost all of their money in gambling and drinking. When the miners heard that there was alittle girl in town they tried their best to see and talk to her, for they seldom saw a little girl in those parts; afraid of their rough speech and looks. ly grew to like them though, especially Tom Miller, who whittled out wooden dolls for her and carried her on his shoulders and never seemed tired of answering her questions. Sunday evanings her father took hes to the store and put her on a dry-goods box while he talked to the boys. But while ehe was there there was very liitle drink- ing and gambling done, for one day when she saw Bill Saunders going home tipsy she cried so hard tnat Bill sald he’d “be blamed if he wa’n’t ashamed of himself fur makin’ that purty little thing cry.” This did not suit Jim Carew, the store- | keeper, so he told Pete that “if he didn’t keep that kid home he'd make him’’ ; but Tom Miller told Jim that *“if he tried to keep thatlitule gal home he’d thrash him within an inch of his life’”’; and Jim thought that it would be wissr to keep still. Her birthday came on Thanksgiving, and the boys said they would have a turkey dinner with cranberry sauce and a plam pudding in honor of the occesion. At last the day came, the dinner was to be at Dick McPherson’s cabin, as his was the largest,and he wasconsidered a pretty good cook. The men were all there on time, and nearly all bad something for her. Tom Miller gave her a pair of shoes that had belonged to his little girl that died; and Sam Thompson gave her a handkerchisf* What if it was a man’s handkerchiei? It had never been used, and it was all he had to give. Jim Carew was there too, and nad brought her a little bottle of perfume that he had found somewhere among his belongings. Then the dinner began, and the boys spun yarns and said speeches alternately. Finally, Jim Carew stood up and said: “Boys, once I told Pete to keep ‘that kid’ away from the store, because you fellows wouldn’t buy 8o much whiskey when she was there, but I'll take it all back now, and I'm sorry Isaid it, and what do you fellows say if we pitch all of that stuff into the gulch and turn over a vew leaf?” “All right,” they all answered, after a little hesitation, *‘we’ll do it.”’ Then some one proposed a cheer, and it was given with a will. A1l the miners. joined heartily and Cal.y’s face was wreathed in smiles. ‘When all was quiet again Caliy stood up on her chair and said, “Thank you all but she was | It was Thanksgiving eve. The trees had been robbed of their beautiful garments, which had just taken on bril- 1t shades of red and golden brown. arcely a yellow leaf remained on the bare and naked boughs to zive a tinge of brightness to the quaking branches. | The sun had set an hour ago with all | the glorfons hues of an autumn sunset | when mellow clouds wrap their folds carersingly around the departing sun, | like iriends hovering over the deathbed of a loved one. | Darkness had thrown her sable curtain over the world, and the wind howled madly around the corners of the lonely cottage. The two sisters, having partaken of their evening meal iong before, had sat watching the sunset from the windows of their dilapidated home. Nightfall did not disturb them, and they still sat by the | flickering fire, each deeply absorbed in her | own reveries. At last the elder spoke to her maiden sister. ‘‘Jane,” she said, softly. “Yes, Susan,’” she returned. “Do you know, Jane, Iam just as sure as fate that somethin’ is a-goin’ to come to | pass this very ni;;mr" “Now, Susan, whatever makes you take these fits, anyway ? “Well, I'm sure this time I feel asif I | was a-zoin’ to have a little good luck yet, even if, after pa died, I came to California | to tind my only boy, my Harry. You know my success as well as I do and that | I had 1o stay here on account of not havin’ money enough to go back to old Indiana on after I failed in locatin’ my boy. *So I jest had to stay in this pesky coun- | try. I’'ve lived here for fifteen long year, and it's terrible when you despise a place,”” she went on energetically, “and Ido de- spise your God-iorsaken country of a Cali- forma that swallowed up my boy and gives me nothin’ but disappointment. I'll never like it, I never wilL."” “Never mind, Susan, vou know we can’t help what is,” said her sister. *‘And I'll tell you what I was a-thinkin’ of. It was about the old school where we used to go when we was children. Well, let’s sing | some of the old songs, and maybe it’ll cheer our old hearts up a bit.”” Then tke frail and faint voices of the two sisters were raised, and as they sang the songs they bad sung in their child- nood their voices grew stronger, and pov- erty, pain and sorrow were alike forgotten. Suddenly, as the third song was upon their lips, 2 loud knock was heard upon the door. Jane arose and admitted a tall, hand- somely dressed strancer of about forty, who glanced in Susan’s direction. **“What can—" Jane did not finish the sentence, for her sister had arisen and was exclaiming: “Od, it's Harry, my dear boy,'’ and she fell into his arms. “I always knew,” cried Jane raptur- ously, “that California could give as well as receive.” But Susan did no: hear. | come back. Her boy had maiden of six whom they called Juno, atter the godaess of beauty. King Desire and Rosabella became much attached to this little girl. They were very sad be- cause they hadn’t any children of their own. Of course Juno’s parents could not spare her. But Rer father said: ‘Desire, be comforted. In yonder humble cottage dwells a widow with her twelve children. They are very poor, and I think she would part with one or two of them.” The widow | gladly gave two children to Desire. They were a boy and girl (twins). Rosabella named them Apollo and Diana after the great sun god and coddess. These chil- dren grew up to be very beantifal. When the King and Queen died they fell heirs to ali Eldoradu. After many years the fairies became lessnumerous and dif- ferent people came to Eldorado. These people were considered giants by the fairies, who became so frichtened when more and more kept coming they ran away and hid. Some fifty or, sixty years after this country’s name was changed to California, and where the castle of Diana bad stood a beautiful yellow or orange color flower began to bloom, which all Californians now proudly acknowledge as our State flower. GETTING READY FOR THANKSGIVING. Did you ever? The Mastodon in the Academy of Sciences having come out of the Musenm to see what is going on has been set upon by the Bumpkins, who, if they subdue the Mastodon, will have the biggest and strangest Thanksgiving din- ner upon record. And there are the Sea Lions, too. They will not go hunery, and a diet of fish wili not suit for a real Thanksgiving feast. That fat and pom- pous Mr. Turkey must go to the block. Then two of the young authors who wrote for the *Young Anthors’ Page” cave their stories a Thanksgiving flavor. They fit in very nicely this morning. Mary Morris Lioyd tells a Thanksgiving story that teaches how those who are truly thankiul cau manifest the fact. s THE HUMMING BIRD. There is a little humming-bird, That hovers 'round my door, And oft I hear it humming, As it flits from flower to flower. No matter if the days are dark, And clouds obscure the sun, Thatlittle bird hums merrily, From morn till day is done. It has a lesson taught to me, Which I would fain impart, For often e’en & ray of light Wil cheer the fainting heart. So let not sad or dreary days Cause us 10 be cast down, Butlet us earnestly press on To win the heavenly crown, Cayucos, Cal E. M 8 OUR CORRESPONDENTS. The California stories written by our young authors will appear on this page in due time, Thanksgiving demanded some of the space shis morning. The two stories by Clara Ken- nedy and M. Eva Navene are a sample of what the young authors produced. Thanksgiving matter crowds out some communications to-day. MAURICE ASHER, 16 Turk street—Story pleasirg, but 1t came too late. MARY MACY—Poem will be published. H. J. S. B.—Good story. BEATRICE PRICE has written a pleasing account of the Alexander Valley. She shows loyaity to her own section, saying: “It is one of the preitiest valleys in the State. Itis divided up into orchards and vineyardsana fields. There is one store, one blacksmith- shop and three schoolhouses and one church. Houses are scattered all over the valley.” %) e /5 i ////’// Y/ THE CRUISE OF CHAPTER IV—Copyrigntea 1897. [Synopsis of precediug chapters—The steam vacht Californta, owned by Harry Csiend and having on board Binnie and Ned of * an Francisce, «Shorty” of San Jose, Tom of Fresno, Billy of Oaklavd eud Sam of Los Angeles, is on her way to0 New Guinea 1o bring out of capti¥ity a German satlor, who is, unwillingly, a king over cannibals 1n the country back of the Skull Mouatains in the heart o? New Guinea. On the yoyage from San Fiancisco, and before New Guinea had been sighted, tne California fell in with a dismasted hulk, on which were black men who had been stolen from their native land and who had thrown overboard during a gale the white men who were taking them away into slavery. The chief of these black men, rather than to be with white men, leaped overboard after he had been 1escaed from the hulk by Harry Ostend. He disappeared in the sea while a tornado raged. ] HE California drifted far from its course before the tornado was oOver. While the yacht labored in the sea Mr Ostend discovezad that she was leaking. | The pumps kept her from gaining much water, but she was leaking enough to as possible. The waves going down in forty-eight hours and the sp; ing a sandy beach on the mainland, Ostend decided to take the California to the beach, there to haul her up, if he could find a passage through coral reefs over which the ocean constantly boiled. “Well,” exclaimed Mr. Lane, with some astonishmenr, “‘I can see the old hulk that we cut adrift from going through a break in a reef.”” All the glasses were leveled at a dark- looking object, and it was made out to be a hulk. It had once more come upon the <cene to figure in the adventures of the people on the California. When the helm was put down and the California was headed for the opening in the reef, a murmur was heard among the sailors. It will bring us bad luck.” the general verdiet. But when the California had passed the reef and had entered a little sheltered bay inside of the reef the sailors were on the point of mutiny because the yacht went on, for there, on a bit of wreckage, was the chief who had leaped overboard, and who had strangely enough been floated through the gale to this place. Then the sailors were sure of bad luck. The old chief seemed not to have suf- fered by the gale. He was ashore before the boat sent out by Mr. Ostend to find a safe passage had struck keel upon the beach. Mr. Ostend, always quick-witted, had the old man taken prisoner. Ashe was from the interior of New Guinea he might have information that would bs of value and which might be coaxed from him by good treatment Some days were consumed in cotting down trees of which to make ways for beaching tne yacht, during which the boys made short trips along the shore, but they were commanded not to venture out of sight. Mr. Ostend’s kindness won so upon the nstives that they became quite friendly, That was some trick. The white men who bhad stolen him:elf and his comrades away had been fair spoken, he reasoned, and all white people were aiike. The other natives had lost faith in their chief, since it had been upon his advice tney had gone upon the slave vessel from which they had been rescued by Mr. Ostend. One day John Latour learned from one of the natives that he knew all about the German whom the party had come to New Guinea to rescue. By skillful questioning Mr. Latour also found out that there was a deep and wide river two or three days’ sail from this place which could bs navi- gated for a distance of many miles and led in the direction. of the Skull Moun- tains, on the other side of which was the country inhabited by the Afarkise. There was the German King. More than this the natives offered to go with the white men a part of the way and help them if they were attacked by the hostile natives along the banks of the river, which the natives called the Mar- wise, or ‘‘the great crocodile,” from the great number of such reptiles along its course. Three days before the date set for sail- ing for the Marwise River the old chief was missing. When he did not come back on the second day Mr. Ostend con- 870,/ Wil sl i make it advisable to make repairs as soon | all except the chief, who still suspected | { | Ma | which Mr. Ostend was sure were on THE CALIFORNIA cluded that trouble was afoot. In al thesa days there had been no trace cT a native excepting those on the yacht.and his of itself suspicious. NoW thaz the chief had gone his natives told Mr. Ostend that he had threatened that th vacht should not be permitted to goaway, They excused themselves for not giving earlier information, by saying that it was their religion not to betray a chief, but since he was gone and out of the way of harm there was no reason Wwhy they should not inform their new friends of their danger and so hasten their de- parture. Was this a true storv? Or was it told to lure the white men intoa trap that they might be the easier robbed and perhaps murdered ? Mr. Ostend was not at all afraid of an attack while he could retreat to the Cali- , for the vessel had a repeating m gun on board, and was plentifully supplied with repeating Tifles. So he waited and made one pretense and an- other to account for delay. He had a pur- nose 1n this. He wanted to find out how the boys would act in the presence ofa band of hostile suvages. It was necessary that he should fully understand what he could count upon in an emergency. The natives were in haste to be off, but that only made Mr. Ostend the more de- termined to wait aslong as seemed best, The chief was heard from on the firth {ix after his disappearance.. He came alquz the beach followea by, perhaps, Papuans. They were not tall savages, bt they were wild-looking men. The chiet said, through an interpreter, that they bad come to trade. The reappearance of the chief set his countrymen into a high stats of excitement. They were coaxed into the cabin and there they were fastened in. The chief was disposed of in the same way. Mr. Ostend asked the natives who had just come why they had not been seen be- fore. He noticed that they brought no women with them and he knew that this was a sien of war. There was sure to be a fight of a lively character soon and Mr. Ostend gave orders quietly to get ready for the attack, which would come. The natives killed time and it was clear that they were waiting for more savaczes to help make their victory sure. None of the lately arrived savages were allowed to g0 upon the yacht, which had been speed- ily launched, but was still close to the shore. Ata given signal all the white men made their way toward the vessel one at a time. When only Mr. Ostend and Binnie remained oa shore the sav- ages gave signs of uneasiness and but for some words spoken by their leader they would have let fly arrows and spears, with which they were all armed. What were they waiting for? This the boy unused to the ways of savages, asked themselves? Not so Mr. Ostend. He had a small cannon trained in the difection of the entrance to the little bay and the Maxim gun was putin readiness for use to repel the natives who might at tack from the shore side. The guns were manned by Mr. Lane and by Mr. Letour. Rifles were placed in easy reach along the sides of the yacht with a liberal supply of cartridges. Wb everything was ready the rope-ladder the port side of the yacht was pulled and the coming of the fleet of war candé the forn way, was calmly awaited. In fact Mr. Ostend was always calm when there was real danger ahead. He did not, for a moment, think that the savages would make an attack until they had mustered a small army of their best and most fearless warriors. Just before ausk the fleet appeared, Then the natives on the shore, tninking that the white men could mnot get away, threw off all pretense of friendliness and boldly brandishea their spears and called on the white men to give up their vessel, At the same instant they began to let fiy arrows, all of which were poisonea. Very faw shots were returned from the yacht. It was Mr. Osteund’s plan of battle to teach the natives such a severe lesson that the news of it would travel ahead of the yacht and make her passage up the Mare wise River safer. Just as the moon 10se the real battle was begun. D. H. W, (To be continued.) THE MASTODON IN DANGER FROM THE HUNGRY BUMPKINS.