The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, May 8, 1898, Page 23

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, MAY 8, 1898. STORY OF “OLD ELORY" TOLD IN PICTURES (Flags That Waved Over the Natiom Before the Stars and Stripes Were HAdopted. LD GLORY, as known to-day— that is, with thirteen alternate red and white stripes represent- Ing the original States in the| Union, and a star for each State— was first offic v declared on June 14, s said: “Resolved, | That the flag of the thirteen United | States be thirteen stripes, alternate | red and white; and that the union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, | representing a new constellation.” | seems as though the committee ded on the flag—Georgz Wash- | Robert Morris and Colone! ss—must, when it drafted the reso- have had in mind Dryden’s ation s but one, tis a train of stars. Yes. The flag is old as| ms go; for, though just one hundredth and twen- rst it is older than all the| of the great nations of Western | The flag of Great Britain in its present form from the dation of the United Kingdom, in the French tricolor was adopted old Glor: vear, rope. n 1794; the German and Ttalian ban- n are no older than the existing regime of those countries, and the sh adopted theirs in 1785. ade under the direc- ttee appointed to de- teen stars in a cir- typical of perpet- the story that the three d Mrs. John Ross, upholstery shop on Philadelphia, to make it is said, we owe the for the committee ints. The legend cle on a blue 7, and hbers emp kept a littl h street, in To Mrs. Ross, nte led had T also is that at the time the flag was Jones s appoint- 1 of the continental \d that he and strip i pes formally e outcome of many was g before the St rge was dropped from I fla, ppeared in the P nies imm fore and during he first twe Revolution. an insurgent ngland bear- George, and A by New united with looked w and it v s tree appea with the An Appeal ritans ed 10t- to England navy flag of ions of 4 cross disap- > pine tree, between the two ‘mottoes above given, stood on a white field, bordered top and bottom with blue stripes. Vessels of the Uni- ted States navy flew this flag for some time. At Lexington there was no American flag, but two months later, at Bunker Hill, there.were several. One was red, bearing only the deflant motto ‘“Come if you dare.” Another was blue, with a white canton quartered by a red St. George Cross and a pine tree at the top inner corner. At this time Rhode Island had a white flag, bearing a blue cross in the center, and New York likewise flew a white banner with a black beaver. South Carolina first adopted, in 1775, a blue flag with a crescent moon in the upper corner next to the staff, but this flag fell into disuse, and the Gadsden d ing a rattlesnake rteen rattles, with the mot- to, ‘Do not tread on me,” took its place in 1776, and met with great favor. It was really Benjamin Franklin who gave the snake to American heraldry, when, in his Philadelphia Gazette in 54, he pictured the colonies as a snake thirteen parts, with the legend “Unite or die.” South Carolina, through her dele- gate to the Central Congress, adopted the idea, and in 1776 the rattlesnake of the South and the pine tree of the North were united. It was Paul Jones’ first flag. He had the green pine tree in the center of a white banner, with THe Bunkeg i F LA L» » T the rattlesnake colled at its foot, and the mottoes “An appeal to God” and “Don’t tread on me.” Commodore Esek Hopkins in 1776 also raised the rattlesnake, with the “Don’t tread on me” motto, but he had the reptile lying across thirteen red and white stripes. Those stripes had come to stay. This same snake and motto were on the flag of the Culpeper minute men, with the additional legend “Liberty or Death.” “Liberty or Death” was a common legend to be seen on many banners. In 1876 it was carried at White Plains on a white flag that bore a naked sword, crossed with a baton carrying a liberty cap. ‘While this change in flags was going on the cross of St. George was still seen, and in connection with the thir- teen white and red stripes, that grew rapidly in popularity. The Royal Sav- age, on Lake Champlain, in 1776, flew this cross with the thirteen stripes. The stars and stripes became more and more common before our flag was adopted in 1777. First the stripes, as in the flags on the Royal Savage and Commodore Hopkins’ ship. Then came the stars. These were often assoclated with other emblems, and particularly the eagle. There was a flag with its thirteen red and white stripes that bore a blue field in the middle of its upper half on which was an eagle sur- rounded by stars. There was another that showed Washington leaning on a cannon, and behind him stars and stripes and an eagle, the eagle hold- ing in his beak a scroll bearing the words “E pluribus unum,” and grasp- ing thunderbolts of war with one talon, T HE FIRST o TARSAD&ST * f.’ b | Iwhlle the other held the olive branch | of peace. Then came the flag adopted by Con- | gress. The first intention was to add | a stripe and a star for each new State | that entered the Union, but while this | was found convenient so far as the | stars went, it proved very troublesome | when the stripes began to multiply. | In the war of 1812, after Vermont and | | Kentucky were admitted, our flag had | | fifteen stars and fifteen stripes, but | | when the number got up to twenty it | | was decided to return to the original | | thirteen stripes, which was done by | | act of Congress in 1818, the addition of | | 2 new star for each new State remain- | | ing as it was before. [ | First the stars were arranged in a| l FLAG OF/THE ey "ROYAM SAVAGE® circle, then no rule was followed, and they were often arranged so as to form the letters U. ., and were also put in in all sorts of irregular shapes to represent a constellation. Finally it was decided they should be put in in regular rows, as at present. So we have the flag as it is, with an innovation in the revenue service, where the stripes are perpendicular in- stead of horizontal REFUSED HIS PENSION. Marcel, a noted dancing master and posture master, ~vas as much in love with his art as if he had been a great painter or musician. He could not par- don the least inelegance of posture. In his latter days he was in reduced circumstances, and severely afflicted with the gout. A young lady, one of his pupils, got her father to obtain him | quite rounded enough.”—Youth’s Com a pension from the King, and she was' deputed to present it to him. She ran up to his chair, her eyes sparkling with Joy, and put it into his hand. He imediately thrust it from him, and FLAG orT said, “Go and take it up, miss, and present it to me as I have taught you.” ¢ She burst into tears, but obeyed. RHooe h“l kconsen(‘ to take it now, and I| [SLAND, thank you; but vour elbow was not| ¢ (EARLY) panion. 0009t')00O00OO0000000000000000000000000000e000OO000OQ0000O0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 o000 ANNA DICKIE'S CURIOUS PROPHECY WHEN SHE CHRISTENED THE OLYMPIA, m est little lady in the | land t is Miss Anna Dickie, daughter of George W. Dickie, m ging d or of the Union Iron Works. Miss Dic HE 1 1 -da s pride is quite pardon- she had the honor of shed- od for the new navy. way. en the cruiser Olympia was ready aunching, it was decided that Miss a as godmother and There were some re- et offered by the ultra use of champagne but this point was or of the wine, that only the na- to be used. r the excitement announced that set and the future tive product ny will >ated when day had n of the new n ious to a premium. had been ing decked yur national emblem exciting moment arrived. e—the sound of ham. the big vessel swept | > waters | i ship slid along the ways kie raised a bottle of cham- d brought it down with a crast - the bows of the vessel. Whistles shrieked, cannon boomed and | people shouted themselves hoarse. At this juncture a smile of fortitude was Anna Dickie, as Anna was born in Janaging director of the Union Iron Works. ful use of her wheel and t Dewey and will soon be noticeable on Miss Dickie's counte- nance, as if something had happened to cause her pain. In the excitement of the moment this incident was quite overlooked by the spectators, but sume observing people wondered why she wrapped her handkerchief around her finger, where it remained the rest of the day. When the news was tclegraphed around the world that brave Deway had met and defeated the Spanish ficet at Manila, it occurred to a <all man to ask M Dickie what she thought of the behavior of her ship. He found her most enthusiastic over the news which was fully shared by her f. e Mr. Dickie was proud of the ship whose every bolt and rivet, from keel to truck, had been built under his per- sonal supervision. Miss Dickie did not seem to care to discuss the subject of the slight acci- dent that occurred when the vessel was launched. But the proud father was less reticent. He said, “It is a very insignificant affair,” but admits that it verifies the old saying that there is still a lit- tle bit of innate su- perstittion left in the whole human family, which neither education nor civilization can eradicate. “It was all on ac- count of the bottle CTHECOLYMBLIA of champagne,” said Mr. Dickie. “When | my daughter broke the bottle over the ship's bow, according to a time-hon- ored maritime custom, a particle of the shattered glass cut her finger until it bled profusely. The blood trickled down over the bow and left a small crimson streak along the rail. She did not cry out or faint—she is a San Fran- cisco girl—but turned to me with a | queer little smile, and exclaimed: ‘See, WHEN ANNA DICKIE CHRISTENED THE CRUISER OLYMPIA. he was on November 5, 1802, when she christened the United States cruiser Olympla. n Francisco August 2, 1865, She is the youngest chid and only daughter of G. W. Dickle, the She is now attending school in San Mateo, but believes more in a plenti- s racquet than in hard study. She rejoices to know that the Olympia helped Commodore s brave officers and men to secure the notable victory at Manila, and trusts that the Philippine Islands pened up to receive the priceless benefits of liberty and civilization. father! It is a good omen. The first blood for the new navy. Let me make a prophecy. This will be the first ship of the new navy to shed blood for our nation’s honor.’ vou see,” said Mr. Dickie, “our love for the Olympia is quite pardon- able. were.” She is one of the family, as it ‘When Anna Dickie christened the Olympia she cut a finger on the champagne bottle. Turning to her father, she sald, prophetically: ““This vessel will shed the first blood in war for the defense of her country.” That was in 1892, long botm:o trouble with Spain was dreamed of. The Olympia was Admiral Dewey's flagship before Manila and led the fight. Just how much of a prophet Miss | Dickie is the reader must judge. Cer- | tain it is that the Olympia was Com- modore Dewey’s flagship in one of the greatest battles known in modern his- tory. Miss Dickie- cerfainly ddes not fit the novelist's description of the | witchlike soothsayer worn threadbare | {in fiction. She is just a demure little San Francisco maiden, born in this city thirteen years ago, and was but 7| | years of age when she christened the | Olympia. 'WHY BALD HEADS SHINE. ONS. SEBOURAND, former pupil of M. Pasteur’s school, has found the mighty microbe that makes men and women lose their hair—the little beast | who is responsible for the shiny pate of | the unfortunate baldhead. He describes it as a minute, colorless body, pointed at both ends, and increasing in num- bers by constant division into two, and | since the divisions do not always im- mediately break off, long chains fre- quently form, each link being a dis- | tinet microbe. The pestiferous organism congre- | gates in colonies of enormous numbers | | in the upper part of the hair follicle below the epidermis, and just where the sweat gland joins the foliicle. At this point there is somewhat of an en- largement, and in this little cavity it finds a convenient habitat. Each col- ony is wrapped up into a kind of co- coon by fatty matter from the seba- ceous gland; the cocoons vary in size, and are easy to obtain by squeezing the skin at the mouth of the gland. '- The microbe of baldness has been isolated and grown as a culture on a suitable medium, when it appears as a colorless form, changing later into one of brick red hue. But how is it that this microbe, not being at the root of the hair, but at some distance above it in the follicle, causes the hair to fall out? Its method of attack is as fol- lows: The development and growth of the microbe causes certain changes in its environment—the breaking up, for in- stance, of substances around, from which it obtains necessary food and energy—and the cycle of results thus brought about gives the production of a substance poisonous to the root of a hair. This toxin passes down to the root and acts as a slow poison, not kill- ing all at once, but inducing certain characteristic symptoms; the hair be- comes lighter in color until its pigment has practically disappeared, its diam- eter gradually lessens, it becomes brit- tle and dried up and eventually dies and falls out. The root, though weakened by the poison, sends up another hair to replace the fallen one, but the new outgrowth begins life feebler and poorer than its predecessor, so it too, only with great- er speed, becomes a victim. And so the process goes on; each successive growth starts more weakly its fight against the insinuating poison and more quickly succumbs, until a point is reached where the root can no longer make a fresh effort, for it has also fallen completely under the nox- fous influence and is killed. This course of events occurring, as it does, simultaneously in hundreds of adja- cent hair follicles, naturaly results in complete baldness. To prove that this microcbe is the cause and not merely the accompani- ment of baldness, M. Sebourand isolat- ed it and cultivated it in a suitable liquid. After the microbes had multi- plied and develoned he filtered the li- quid through porcelain, and believing that, if his theories were true, the fil- tered liquid would contain the sub- stance they produced poisonous to the hair, he took a rabbit and inoculated it deeply under the skin with the fluid. As he hoped, the rabbit speedily began to lose its fur, and in six weeks it was completely denuded; in fact, it had be- come entirely bald. LITTLE PALOMA SCHRAMM TELLS | In a Letter to the Sunday Call She De- cribes Her Famous Interview With the Diva, When She Played and Danced for Her. Melba Mas So Delighted With the Little Genlus That She Wanted to Take the Child With Her to Paris—Paloma Promlised to Meet Her There In the Near Future. ITTLE Paloma Schramm made a conquest of no less a personage than Melba. It was not alone the genius of the remarkably gifted child that made Melba marvel, but the sweet unspoiled person- ality of Paloma. Both Melba and Campanari had heard much of the wonderful child- musician and they were both inclined to believe that she was simply another prodigy whose ability would become mediocre with the years. But after hearing her ylay they said that they had never heard anything like it and that if she lived, hers would be one of the names that would make this century memorable. “The technique is the least,” said Melba, “it is the soul, the delicacy, the intelligence; that is what astounds me, the intelligence with which she inter- prets. She is a genius; not a talented prodigy, but a genius.” And when Faloma improvised from the theme which Melba wrote for her the tears rolled down the diva’s face and she caught the child in her arms exclaiming: “Where did you get it from, tell me— your soul is music itself.” Mme. Melba, like every one else, dwelt as much on Paloma's personality as on her genius. For the child is thoroughly natural; just a sweet hu- man flower of childhood; she has lived in the garden most of the time among the flowers and bi~ds. She is as modest as a wild flower and as refreshing in her simplicity. Fer face, in its delicate purity, is as responsive to her feelings as her fingers are to her music. When she talks in her sweet childish way her expresgion holds you even more than her words. There is something inde- scribably spirituelle about her. And little sister Karla is very much like Paloma, omly her dimples always play hide and seek and the laughing light in her blue eyes never dies out, while Paloma’s sometimes grow soft with unshed tears and her face quivers as thou_1 with a pain that is half sweet. Watch her when she plays Chopin if you would see it. People are constantly sending her presents of all descriptions, but wise parents allow her to accept as few as possible and keep people from her as much as they can. “I am going to talk my letter and have you write it out,” Paloma said, “because then people won’t see my bad spelling.” And people don’t see the bad spelling, but neither do they see e little girl as she sat on the window sill next to her bird cage, all the delicate contours of her face brought out by the rays of the sun that fell upon her; nor do they hear the voice with which she said her “letter’”’; that clear, flute-like voice with its quaint German a: ent, and the unaffected, modest childish way in | which she talked the following letter: MELBA AND PALOMA SCHRAMM. (From a photograph taken during the diva’s recent visit to this city) ¥ EAR CALL: I was so happy to hear Melba sing. XKarla and I D sat in a box up to the stage, where we could see beautifully. I never heard any one sing like that before. I thought it almost was a dream, her voice was so clear. But I was so sorry that I heard her in the Barber of Seville, because that opera I do not like at all. The singing was grand, but not the opera. And once they all had to scream and it hurted my ears. I like to write a letter this way, just talking and having you write it down, because I have to ask you how to spell so many words in Eng- lish, but not so many in German. Sometimes I get the English all twisted up. Once I thought Melba looked right up and smiled at Karla and me. It made us so happy, but we thought we imagined it only. _ Then she took a rose and kissed it and threw it at our box, right up. Karla and I both put out our hands to catch it, but we couldn’t reach it, and it fell down. We would have liked to jump down after it. Then, when Melba came out again, she kissed one other rose and threw it at us. But it fell down. We felt like crying, and then the violinist down in the orchestra, who caught it, threw it straight into our box. Karla and I are going to always keep that rose. and put it away for us. I love roses. When we are at home Karla and I take the roses and squeeze out the juice and paint with it. Once we played millinery store and I took a book and drew some hats and colored them with the juice of flowers. Mamma said she liked them all so much she didn’t know which one to choose. Of course she was playing make believe, too. We were so sorry that the opera was over. But on Sunday mamma, papa, Karla and 1 went to see Melba. She was, oh, so lovely. Melba and Mr. Campanari wrote themes for me and I played on Melba’s own piano. I was very happy while I was playing. There were very many flowers in the rcom and they smelled sweet. Then Karla played a dance and Melba took my hands and danced with me. I cannot dance, so I just, with the music, kept time with my feet. Then one of the gentlemen took our pictures very many times. I sat on Melba’s lap and we had one taken, and then Melba and Karla and T put our arms around so, and had one, and I had one sitting all alone at Melba’s own Steinway and very many others. Melba asked me to come with her, but 1 told her I could do it not without mamma and papa and Karla. She said we could all come. I hope we do. I was sorry to kiss her good-by. But we did not say good-by; we said “auf wiedersehen.” And Melba says she is going to send me a big doll, so high, from Mamma pressed it Paris that can walk and talk and sing. Oh, I liked her so very much. I always close my letters with love, so I will this one, too; so please write down, “With love to The Call and every one.” > PALOMA.