The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 16, 1898, Page 20

(5] = THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL INDAY, JANUARY 1 0000000000 0000000000000 O000 INCE, in the opinion of all reason- able men, no further attempt is likely to be made to place one of the Stuart family on the throne of Great Britain, at least by force of arms, 1 can now, without prejudice to any one tell the story of the strange adventure which brought me face to face for the first and last time with Charles Zdward Stuart, commonly known as the Young Pretender. Late in the afternoon of September 22, 1750, I received the following letter: ar Friend—By the time this s placed in your hands I shall be at sea on my way to Antwerp. It is all over. Under the name of John Douglas the Prince has been in London for nearly a week and nothing has come of it. There 18 no prospect of a ri Gentlemen of v and Influence, however devoted to % » no mind to risk their by marching on London b: strong body of ing that ex! he scaffold, would L 1 end of an speak the I am much of that w self, and, having wife and child, will not draw my sword until 1 percetve Some fair prospect of succe “1 write to warn you of that whichcon- cerns you nea The other day the Prince came plain truth, of thinking my- v 10 a party at Lady Primrose’s, to’the conster- nation of her ladyship and of most of her guests. Indeed, he met with but a cold reception from any but your betrothed, Miss Kate Gordon, and her ityre followed her £ heard him whisper that if his roy: hr honor his evening would deign to with a visit this he would meet with a ind of welcome. Learn- sordon would be present anted our ear. uste This Macin- have infor- e that he is a tyre is not mation from spy In the pay e Government, and the man with one eye, the odlo ire who follows | he » 1s, if possible, a more {nfamous wretch than himself. “The hc i in a lonely stuation I am con d that thes. Irels are concocting some plot to the Prince | and are making use of Gordon’s grace and beauty and well-known devos | tion to the Jacobite cause to entice him {nto & trap. 1 tried to give the Prince a hint of this, but he listened to me coldly. a ed of late he beeome not usly impatient of advice from his best 1 truest friends. “That Miss Gordon should be made an accomplice in this villainous scheme will, 1 know, be hateful to you, and I doubt you will do_what lies in event it. Yours most falthfully. MATTHEW FIELDING.” blood boiled as I read his letter. no friend to the Stuarts, and, in- deed, cared little whether the Pretender was taken or not; but that Kate should be involved in this infamous plot was in- describably painful to me, and 1 reso- lutely determined that she never should be if word or act of mine could prevent Yet it no very pleasant task for me to interfere in the matter, for the been a sharp quarrel be- {ate and myself with regard to this Macintyre and her passionate de- votion to the cause of the unhappy Stuarts. She was an orphan and Mac- intyre, being her cousin, had undertaken to act as her guardian, a plece of pre- sumption which I bitterly resented, for I had good belleve that he hated me foul, . by fair me lant me in Kate's and her small er in then displayed and his hypo professions of attachment to the prince, cast a glamor about him in the eves of a young and romantic girl. could say would induce her to to thelr friendship, and we had ally parted with bitter words on both des. But Fielding’s letter drove my to the winds. Come of it what wo! was resolved to go boldly to M house, and insist upon her lea 1 wou cint ving yre's it at scort her to the lodgings aunt, Lady Chester, who would, 1 . receive her gladly So I buckled on my sword, procured a coach and drove quickly to' Macintyre's house, which lay som tance from the city. Within 200 or 30 ards of the gate I alighted, and, leaving the coach hidden in a lane near the road, walked forward by myself. In spite of my antipat v to Macintyre, 1 confess there had been moments when I could scarcely believe him capable of the in of “which Fielding had ac- cused him; but, when in the_ gathering dusk I reached the gate in a high stone wall which encircled the spacious gar- den, al doubts vanished at the sight of the isolated house, the lighted win- dows of which were hardly visible through the thick foliage of the trees that surrounded it on all sides. No cry for help would be heard beyond the walls. The victim once inside that lond- ly bullding, and sword or bullet might do its work and none be the wiser. My heart beat quickly as I passed through the gate. Such a man as Mac- intyre was not unlikely to clutch at any means of getting rid of a dangerous rival, and I knew well that I carrled my life in my hands. I thought I might be refused admittance, but the gate stood wide open, and no_ one ap- eared or challenged me. But that rought me-little comfort. It is ever an easy matter to enter a trap. It is when you seek to leave it that the dif- ficulties begin. Still I went doggedly on, though, as T approached the house, 1 was confident that I could hear a faint rustling in the bushes to right and left, as though in- Yisible sples were stealthily dogging my footsteps. 'Then a thing happened that confirmed my worst suspicions. The door suddenly opened and was swiftly shut again, -but not before I caught a glimpse of two or three figures slipping hurriedly inside. What could these things mean if l}l‘Aey @id not indicate treachery and foul play? I am not ashamed to say that my Itmbs trembled and the cold sweat stood on my forehead, as, after a moment's tion, 1 set my teeth, and, stepping quick- 1y forward, knocked at the door. It was or | the | ny such rash | v example | the Prince | 1 your power | hesita- | BY JAMES WORKMAN. < [ | | opened by a man with a very and forbidding countenance and but _one eve. f no other than Donald le parasite of Anc Macintyr t whom my good friend Fielding had particularly warned It might have been fancy, but it seemed to me that his greenish gray eye sparkled with a kind of malig: t of me. I th 1 the fly t among the mesh, Yet he readily made ter, and went at my req; | that T w speak to her. He was gone . and I was sure that he was informing Ma before carrying th. would hav int triumph at the nk a spider might so ntured {nnocently s web. 1y for me to en- st to tell Kate er; but pro ntly 1 irlish voice, high ar, singing “The White and sweet and cf | Cockade. T'll sell my rock, My rippling kame and spi. To buy mysel a tartan plaid, A broadsword, dirk, and white cockade. Oh, a'r ng blade! Oh, he's a nnie Betide what m art is g a To see my lad w e cockade. She sang it d. ¥ she came down the wide staircase, & flush on her brave young face, her eyes shining with a kind of passionate enthusiasm, the sweetest mald, it seemed to me, in all broad land, and, to my mind | the foolishest. She seen less child playing with d I could have snatche ay white cogkade she breast and crushed it ng- at that moment 1 like a reck- wore ar arer T was con- vinced that she was but playing a part, | for more than once I noticed her glanee apprehensively about her, and I felt her hand tremble as I clasped it in mine. Yet even at that moment, In a position as 1 believed, of imminent peril, my heart leaped with joy to perceive that all trace of the coldness that had Been for some time between us had passed away, and that she was unfelgnedly re- joiced to see me. > “This 1s a pleasure I did not anticl- pate,” she said, in a formal voice, and with a slight side glance at Fraser, who ood again leering beside the door. Will you come thi if you please” She led the way upstairs, and 1 fol- lowed her into a sitting room brilliantly lighted with wax candles as though fc the reception of a distinguished guest. I closed the door behind me and was about to speak to her, when she laid her finger on her lips, and, taking one of | the candles, looked beneath the table and behind ‘the couch and even opened the door of an empty cupboard and glanced hurriedly insiae. She was very rale. and the candle trembled in her hand as she returned it to its place. Then she suddenly sank iInto a chair | covering face with her hands and | 3 .’ said 1, “this is not like | you. What is the matter?" NARROWEST BUILDING LOT If you were to go to New York, and were to be shown about the place by a native, one of the wonders of the city pointed out to you no doubt would be the famous four-foot lot on which & capitalist there has built him a resi- dence. You would duly marvel at the size of the city where such close quar- ters had become necessary. You would return to San Francisco and preach sermons from such and such a text. You would measure off the distance on your table. You would calculate the length of your trunk, and wonder what possible use a human being could have for such a narrow strip of land. And all the while you would very likely be fgnorant of the fact that in San Fran- cisco there are no less than twenty res- idence and business lots under four feet 4n width, and that the narrowest frontage in the world is on our own Mission street. San Francisco boasts the narrowest business or residence frontage in the world. Away out on Mission street, between Twenty-first and . Twenty- second, is a lot owned by the German Savings and Loan Soclety. It has a frontage of only one-thirtieth of an | Inch, and is eighty feet deep. It faces the east. The microscopic size of such a lot as | this can best be shown by comparison, | Let us suppose, for instance, that your | two neighbors were to plant steel pil- | lars, one upon each corner of the ad- | jJacent property, leaving a slit between them the exact width of the lot. You | might readily set two of your calling } cards upright upon the land between but you could not make it three, with- out springing the pillars. You might | insert a pin between them, but there | would be no room for the head to pass {in. The blade of Yyour pocket-knife | Would probably be much too wide for | the aperture. With a piece of board | a foot square you would have lumber | sufficient for a fence three hundred and | sixty feet in height, were you to hoard up the gap. There is no possible way | by which a bank could be built upon | the property, for the thinnest coin we | have—the ten-cent piece—is too thick | by a third to enter edgewise the slit be- | tween the pillars. | Almost any man could afford to own evil j 0000000000000 00000000000000T0000C000000CO0000000000 ) 7 i faltered, ing faintly very silly am frighte are out, and s servants hav sent away, and I have been alor house for hours, with no one te the odious’ wretch, Donald —and—and 1 got mervous and be; think I could hear strange noise perings at the door, and foots the stairs, until 1 was quite sure were strange men in the h thought one might be in the cupbe there, watching us and listening to 1d. I think it must hav y. If not, what can it all mear I fear th is no doubt of wt means, Kate id I, *and the ti come to speak plainly. 1 have that to-night the, young Pi Charles Stuart, is coming here. you have tricked yourself your finery, with the white your breast to meet him. Oh foolish child, can't you s vile man, this® glib, pla faced spy and traitor, tyre, is using vour pretty nocent enthusiasm to lure t nate young Prince into a trap. In spite of her whit as it pos- un to dis- ank,” she exclaimed gly urely this cannot he have thought of late he was g Jukewarm, that his zeal for th had cooled, but he could not b des of such treach as this could not. I cannot beiieve it."”" Nevertheless, 1 could see that In heart she did believe it. “The man is a sy 1 sald im- patiently, “I have it from a sure source | and there can be no doubt about it Moreover, there are men lurking in t garden and about the house; I he them rustling among the bushes and them slinking through the door. T are here to seize the Prince, and we ar powerless to prevent them. No one will belleve in your innocence if you are present when the Prince is taken, and if you do not wish your name to become infamous you must come away this minute. I have a coach waiting take you to my aunt, Lady Ch - will bribe Fraser to let us pass before | your cousin returns, or, run him through the t escape in the darkness.” She wrung her hands in agony. “Oh,” she cried, “that I who would give my life to save the Prince shonld have been tricked by this base wretch into betraying him! "Oh, this man, this man! 1 did not think such men iivea in the world."” “Come, come,” I sald impatiently, “we are wasting time and there is not a mo- ment to losq Your cousin may return at any moment. We must go at once.” if necessary, rody and trust to OOOOOOO0000000000000000000000000OOOOOODOOOOOO0000000000000000000008 THE WHITE COCKADE. A Story of the Escape of Bonnie Prince Charley. o o o o o o o o (] “And she leave exclaim the Prince to his fate,” making one cannot do it, 1o it. 1 should yself ever after what I can to sav ou will_help me You will help me, Frank, will do? As T have To interfere in both my prinei- it became known Prince to escape no Jacobite. vas against interest. If ssisted the e myself with the Govern- 1 ruin my career if I did not ck. ¥ ah, well, what | man with any heart could iisten to the cold dictates” of prudence when moved sight of ‘that innocent child" », quivering with pain me, and those sweet, tes 1 1zing_ be seechingly into y have been rash, disloyal, what you will, but I could God knows that, However f00, » thought her in the pa rl infinitely more, if t for her fidelity to the s hour of need. » Pri in h w well that it wa nd like to end bad! however it endec “If we think c r one, and that is to intercept him before he reaches the hous for God's sake let us get out of this vile pl. The air chokes me. 1 Come, 325 exclaimed su y. that followed 1 heard path outside, a loud knock 1 the trampling 't and the te sprang a partial opening it cau- »f the hall, sly, looked ou: “Is it the Princ > turned and c d against the wall and, ' I asked breathlessly. d the door and white and trem- ' she faltered, ‘it 1s Andrew ntyre with half a'dozen strange men coarse, brutal-lool wretches, with swords and O, Frank, what_is | to_ become of He hates 'you. He | told me so t r. He threatened what { he would do to vou if I did not give you | up. Fraser will tell him vou are here, ! he—they may kill you. Hush! I foot on the stairs. He is com | ing here. You must hide—somewhere— anywhere—in the cupboard—quick, get into the cupboard.” “But Fraser will tell him T am here,” I expostulated. “Perhaps not,"” ing me in her door of the cupt friendly as they she exclaimed, ush- excitement toward the pard. ““They are not so ppear to be. Quick— | a e is coming! | lding reluctantly to her entreatles, T stepped inside, leaving the door slight- | Iy ajar so that I might see what passed, | Then she sat down at a harpsichord, and | began to sing & rollicking Ja i cobite bal- lad, as gayly and galla as if the Prince had been present with all the clans around him. I swear by the moon and stars so bright, And sun that gl If 1 had twenty-thou T'd gle th for Charlie. We'll o'er the water, we'il o’er the sea, We'll o'er the w. Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go, And live ‘or die wi' Charlie. She was still singing when the door opened and Andrew Macintyre came in. I fully expected to see him followed by his gang of hired ruffians, eager to cut my ‘throat, but he was alone, and, to | er to_Charlle; (it SR ) N my astonishm péct my pre , did not appear to sus- | e, e was a handsome tellow, tall though I never liked t | th er 1 singing. sends | veins. all. th | witn Upon : voice | the b ncing through r 'Tis more inspiriting than a bu It vou would ride at the troops singing your battl white cockade on your | the king would soon enjoy his own With your voice to lead him to victory who would not live or die with Charlie His eyes dwelt on her with a look that LR made me grind my teeth and grip the | hilt of my sword. I would have g all 1 pos: to spring forwa | settle the er with the cold ste but I knew that with a shout he cou bring his cu ats_upon me, and my itth death would leave his_hanc Kate Kate defe: in s ever quick witted and ready but the sure knowledge ¢ nd the tragic situat was placed, seemed on her 1 She in freeze t n white face over the 1 | saw her fingers ng as an- | derea over the I think 'twas the | bitterest mom my 2 neither get h life. I void of courage 2 | tation as a_ swordsman, and yet | ahsolut helpless, I could do nothing | that wa terly reckless and fool- | hardy, a in impotent there grinding my while this 1o Ty th > | spy and traitor made love to my be- | | trothed. . acintyre glanced at the clock. | n to the hour at | s royal highness promised to be > continued in the same tone of kery. “Lét us have another Let us have something to Kate. song, ] stir the blood, something about the g ering of the clans and the flutteri of | the kiits; the flash of the broadswords and the skirl of the pipes. 'Twill raiso | the Prince’s spirit if he hears vou. Ho | was dashed by the coldness with which | he was recefved at Lady Primrose’s. We must give him a heartier reception to- night. I think from the malicious twinkle in is eves that he knew she suspected him. and was playing with her cat with a mouse, Her cheeks fi ed and T thought she was about to give an ANgTY but, with an effort, she controlled f and began to play a spirited pre~ lude. But at that moment he held up his hand. “Hush,” he said, “T hear voices at the door. I think he must have arrived.” He turned away and stepped hurriedly to the window. In a moment Kate was on her feet, darted an appealing look at me, pointed to him and rushed to the door. I was in the room, sword in hand before she reached it. But I was ng a lot of this size, even on Market street, or on Broadway in New York; for you could pay at the rate of $3600 per front foot and still purchase the lot for $10. 3 But this Mission-street lot is not the only lilliputian in San Francisco, al- though thé next narrowest lot has a frontage thirty times as wide. The next narrowest real estate property in the city has a frontage of one inch. So | narrow is it that its owners abandoned As there | it away back in the ’50's. is no way by which a man can get a foothold on it, so to speak, it stands to-day ownerless and forsaken. A squatter would find it exceedingly dif- ficult to prove residence upon a plat of ground only ome inch in - width. The tract is 133 feet in length, and is lo- cated on the north side of Pacific avenue, between Lyon and Baker streets. On the south side of Green street, between Dupont and Kearny, lies a lot | not enough wider than the Pacific- avenue property to make a great deal of difference to its owner, and yet it is half again as wide. It is 82 feet long ; by 114 inches in width. Dr. Searles pay: taxes upon this plece of property. Out on Seventeenth street, on th® north side, between Dolores an Guerrero, Isaac V. Denniston owns : { 1ot 1 foot 4% inches in width. There f¢ | reom on this lot for an oil well or a lumber yard. L. Altschul owns a lot 1 foot 11 inches wide on the north side of Pacific ave- | nue, between Lyon and Baker. John Center owns a corner lot 2 feet by 290 | feet in size, being the northwest cor- {ner of Treat avenue and Sixteenth. | The city owns the adjoining property. | Until Mr. Center erects his warehouses upon this land it is an easy matter to step entirely over his grain fields as with 10-leagued strides, leaving no bootmarks. There are two other lots | s narrow as 2 feet in width, one being | on Mission street, between Twentieth [nnd Twenty-first, and owned by E. F. |and T. L. Harvey, and one on Filbert, | between Mason and Powell, owned by i the Palace Bathing Company. l‘thure are 3 in the city. One of them, 2 feet 2% Inches in width, is owned by IN THE WORLD Of lots between 2 and 3 feet in width | T. W. Smith, and is Van Ness avenue roperty, being situated between Lom. . bard and Greenwich, on the east side f the avenue: one of them, 2 feet 6 inches in width, is owned by D. Searles, ind is located on the south side of Green, between Dupont and Kearny; the third, 2 feet 11 inches wide, runs south from Church lane, opposite Do- lores Mission, and is owned by H. s. Dorland. Any one of these lots would be wide enough to bary a man in. Two lots are exactly 3 feet wide. Jeanne De £t. Mare owns one of them, located on the east side of Brooks street, between Geary and Market: and the other is a lot owned by W. H. Brooks, being the northeast corner of Fielding and Stockton. Long years ago, before the age of steel construction, the southwest cor- ner of Lyon and Vallejo was owned by parties whose names are unknown. Believing that their lot, in width a tri- fle over 3 feet, would never be of value, théy abandoned it. To-day it is a val. uable plece of property, although a tull foot less in width than the famous | New York narrow lot. | of Prestonpans and Falkirk to die sword qui I saw the gyrl:?; fl’f“’,:l‘; {in hand on the battlefleld; but it was AT { The oom. He parried | heartbreaking to see him_ be of spies e G 1 Foeds at him and | trapped by the scurvy erow of sples Py U the weility of @ cat | and e (eeab. chld who wap rushed after Rate. Throush the door | DItS K0T ot his fect, crushed with shama and along the passage she went like a | | that her devotion to his cause should | have been made the bait to lure him to deer, he close on her heels and I close on his. When she reached the stairs she ¥ Lo graie ‘vond her | the scaffold. 4 ’:ei’é‘fi‘g’h‘é’ '!lhg‘]li';.?;flel)hfnifigl(lxxrffic;‘(ls(e;,f | "o Stood perfectly still, pale and with shing eyes, but without a trace of .h‘f-‘weu, Mr. Macintyre,” said he, “this | N ome. May I beg you to Is a strange e lCqrem to understand by ping into the hall. 5 “Go back,” she cried, “go back. You are betrayed. Go b!ark = & the But she was too late. Clang wen : heavy door, out from the adjoining | }:x.{glm me what ; to face with the man he | nSyopeht fare fen: Macintyre lost his nerve, though he tried to brazen it out. “You may understand— he began and then his eves fell and he looked moodily at the floor, “I think the situ tion explains itselt.” he said gloomily. | The Prince drew himself up and looked at Macintyre with unutterable scorn anc contempt. . ed said he. “I have had n to it Spies and traitors before, ¢ ever w Wl nvited me to never with one who i house as a guest in order to betray me 18 o i God, you But _this time, thank God. you have verestimated your cnnuln_z E 03 Smplicity. You fool, do you suppose that I have walked biindfolded into your clumsy trap? Look around you.’ ..o Almost before I realized what had taken place 1 saw Macintyre turn white, and heard the sword drop clattering from his nerveless fingers, while his ac complices glanced n;;xlme;\ezo‘;‘tadseohwg way of escape. g fixed ~on the Prince, so that the men who now stood sword in hand at every door and at the head of every passag | had come upon us unheard and unseen. At a glance I recognized the faces of several well-known Jacobite ~gentlemen, both Englishmen and Flighlanders, an | I saw at once that Macintyre had been cleverly caught In his own trap. en- tangled In the very meshes of the we he had spun to entrap the Prince. | These were the men who had lurked in | the garden, who had stealthily entered | the house.'and the author of this plot within lot—Donald Fraser—who ha | betraved the betrayer, was now leering | triumphantly at Macintyre from iy | post behind the door. Macintyre caught a glimpse of his grinning face, an eyes gleamed with diabolical fury. i | “*You hound,” he exclaimed, “this your work.” i " “Yes,” said the Prince coolly, “you for- get what most of your kind would do well to remember, that it is as easy to set a Spy upon a spy as upon an honest man, and much easier to find those who will betray him, I pretended to fall into your trap in order to trap you, lest good friends of mine should suffer in future by your treachery. It would be but bare justice to hang every man of you, but your lives shall be spared for the present if you instantly lay down your arms. Take their weapons, gentlemen. The conspirators were so thoroughly cowed that they gave up thelr arms with- out a struggle. In the meantime Kate had whispered a few words to the Prince, and he beckoned me toward him. “I find that I owe you a debt of grati- { tude for your conduct this night,” he said graciously, “and I sincerely trust that at some future time it may lie with- in my power todre!pa% u. en he turne () TAS for ‘Such loyalty as vours, Miss Gordon,” he said poor exile has no fitting reward. Nay, I think the only re- ward I can give you is to release you from further service to a Tace so unfor- unate as mine. Pardon me. e ook the white tcrwk:\de from her reast and handed it to me. 1 b"Sen.' he continued, “T give it into the keeping of your future husband, and I pray that you will not wear it again un- he himself pins it upon your breast. - errand here is accomplished, and to- night I leave London. Sioth and avarice | have eaten away the loyalty of those | who should have flocked to my standard. They wish to save their estates and will not thrust their own heads into danger, though they would be willing enough that the poor Highland lads should leave | their_bones on another Culloden moor. But I will have no more useless blood- shed, please God, and so sail for France | till_better times. Farewell.” | Kate could not speak for the sobs that choked her, and I—well, I feel no shame at the confession—knelt and kissed his hand with tears in my eyes. 'Twas the last we ever saw of Prince Charlie, the | bravest and most unfortunate of all the Stuarts. Toward Macintyre and his accomplices | he behaved with his usual clemency. They were released when it was too late At yoms a with Bbed Sacals. aadthere T e, Salqoie | for them to interfere with his departure, of the hall, s led by a ring of | I have stiil the white cock:de Kate steel. th girl at his feet, | wore on her breast that night, but I trap, stood Prince | think éven she has lost all desire to wear it again; for it what we hear of 4 canno ibe | the once gallant Prince be true, his bes ke biparae b SR e wish that he had dled at overwhelmed me ai the t. 'Twould | the head of his brave Highlanders on have been a fitting -death for the hero | Culloden moor. YdUNGEST ACROBAT IN AMERICA. The youngest acrobat in the world is in San Francisco. His name is Philip Paulinetti, and his age a little less than 4 years. He is the son of Peter Paulinetti, of Paulinetti and Piquo, the team of acrobats recently at the Orpheum. With this fact in mind, it is not to be wondered at that Philip is a trained athiete, for his father is one of the best in his line that have ever appeared before an Orpheum audience. Some day Peter will go the way of all athletes, and Philip bids fair to become a worthy suc- cessor. When only 2 years of age, Philip could perform a surprising number of tri in fact he could at that early age puzzle many of his elders in the same line of business. He now performs with ease and grace “hand stands,” “plaunches, trapeze swings,” ‘“head balances,” *“hand bal- ance: and no end of tricks on the horizontal bars and rings. One would hardly suspect, at first glance, that Philip possessed the physical develop- ment beyond his years, fdr he only looks the rosy, healthy youngster that he is, nothing more.. But see him stripped and ready for work and he is another sort of a “man.” His muscular development is something won- derful for one so young. He is fond of showing what he ean do, and takes particular delight in displaying his agility on the bars or in doing hand stands and balances. He has a muscular development of the arms unusual in a child of his age. Moreover, he is proud of it, and when bid- den will doubl: up his tiny fists and harden his biceps with the pride of s Sandow. One of his feats is to stand on his hands, with feet braced against the wall, and retain that position without the semblance of fatigue for quite a length of time. He can stand on one foot and hold ning around on his toes with the ease One advantage which he has over othe necessity, have to carry a lot of trappi his “ac He wants no better horizon cane held in his father's hands. Around this he will twist and turn and attempt many of the clever tricks that he sees his fat bring him rounds of applause in approval. i o st the other straight in the air, spin- and skill of a premiere danseuse. T acrobats is that he does not, of ngs about with him in order to do tal bar on which to perform than a v