The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 27, 1898, Page 31

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, DAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1898. ¥ 31 ALFRED AND HIS CLARIBEL 1ppYy. that I ad not lovely. quoth tk Helen was auty. h to be crue! ed for audience with the O King,” said the wicked old t before tell ¥ most bel H tended t fred alone g Valiant a 1t not only w t ari- v than Helen, but that - kind, and he re- iack of faith. 1 have your CI orth vou stle with either forth 2 ‘or_would he heed & appeal Alfred and ( as ‘prisone y days over ame to a rock placed on a te E: i ocean, Many a rough a the from the shore st tone in which they were to pass all @ as prisoners. When the c gates closed behind them huge glants placed at the gates for 1er Alfred nor Claribel They were happy in their love after 4 time.. There were flowers in the garden, fish in the streams, game In the:forest and fruit of many kinds in large orchards, and no one to disturb them. the They had enough to eat, and castle they found books and But they were not permitted forget that they were prisoners. day, just as the castle clock k the hour of noon, a glant called rough the gate at them in a loud oice that was like thunder: Neither in life, Neither in death, Shall ye go forth forever ! 8o they that one in began to fear o BOVS " GIRLS PAG) N .ave the other to drag erably in solitude, to y grew ad with Ailfred planr with awoke him with her sobbing. Go not forth to sure death, my dear Ifred,” she plead “If you were 1d I would d While we - unhappy her still togethe t us rer perhaps King nt jwill being sorry - our sad f ed did not believe that King Va- would repent and he would not ymise not to attempt to escape. Clar- ibel became so anxious that she would nd \d for us, not consent to have leave her for even & minute By and by the g who_guarded the gates began to think that King Va- liant would never send for his prisoners nd they der 1t Alfred should open let them in, that the gate fruit and the e of the cas- a barren wil- ferocious wild t pathless ne. The ith the of the daily and the cries wouts of the giants Ifred turned a deaf nd requests of the danger made him yreparations to €0 away. a tough yew bow and and tipped the arrows of fishbone. Then he a coat of furs and lined the in- f the coat with pockets to carry )d and drink for the journey; then he ed herbs for medicines. When he 1d made ready he told Claribel that woul scape with her. See- not to be dissuaded, go with him. u get past the d Claribel. morrow you shall see.” Alfred busied himself 1d_the rarest flowers Late into the night castle roared, for fred was making a great feast for The tabl 1y 8T d with » weight of the good things that he nd when wreaths prepared by the dainty fin- ribel, were used to decorate nquet hall, and all the columns yund twith greens and flower > wines sparkled amid the nice be confessed that Al- ribel had provided well to se the glants—for it was the pur- pose of Alfred to admit them to the castle and to make friends of them, if sible. He well knew that there was at risk in this; for the ~iants, never having had any friends, knew nothing about friendship and they were even more ferocious than the wild beasts 1 the wilderness. But plan prepared to repay which roame Alfred had hi treache: of which the giants might be guil When all read he requested e and to place a wreath of flc upon her head, that she might appear as beautiful as pos- sible. Then he caused her to stand at he door of the castle to welcome the Claribel to dre nts when he should let them in. But, beware,” he told Claribel, “do not walk 0ss the marble heart thatis inlaid in the floor of the banquet room. I will act as the servant of the giants and will wait at the table. Sit you only in the chair that is covered with red. Ma no answer to anything that is said: but make it appear, when any question is asked you, that you are dumb.” Be sure, dear love,” answered the beautiful Claribel, “‘that I will do as vou have said, and T pray that the day may not part us forever.” “Tut, tut, no tears,” commanded Al- fred; “men do not like tears and beauty must be at its best to-day. With that he went out and parleyed with the giants, and they promised to let him and Claribel go “-~th freely. (To be concluded next week.) D, B W - TWO CHILDREN. BY ETHEL MAUDE COLSON. un was shining One day when the And the sky a perfect ue, A little maid walked in a valley, Where a sweet wild violet grew. And the little maid, sighing, whispered, “Were I but a blossom wild,” While the violet breathed, with its sweet perfume, “Now if I were a little child!" Then_the Winds laughed softly o'er them, And the fern-fronds, waving, smiled, For the child was a flower of nature And the flower was God's little child! GRS ARG “My sister's takin’ music lessons,” said little Mamie to a neighboring play- mate, aged 4. “My sister's takin’ sum- fin’ on ze piano,” replied the ather, “but I tan’t tell whezzer it's moosic or type- writin’. ;dziLE—FlND THE STONECUTTER'S CHILD. From tho Beitimore American, QUEER STORY OF THE OCEAN By ALMA S. BEMENDERFER. HEN Sam Parker disappear- ed from Clideville the older people said he had run away to see the world. His boy thought him fortunate. But this shows how little they FYeally knew about Sam. The fact s, while out fishing one day he was changed into a fish by a wicked fair and after swimming about in the li pid waters of the Truckee he frozen into the ice, which was later cut into blocks and sent to different places. The one in which Sam was enclosed found its way to a coast steamer, where the fish was cast overboard. From this instant Sam’s adventures began. For when he came to look around he knew he was in the Pacific Ocean. It was a very different place from Truckee River, and the swell was so strong he was forced to swim quite lively. Before he became accustomed friends EDITED .BY DAVID .H- WALKER. , ‘But what happened, Frank?" “O-0-oh, big, big sing with ink fell all over and ink af spilled and I'se sorry, mamma.” ; “But what made you touch the ink when mamma told you not to touch it?” Das a secret, mamma."” “Who knows about it?"” “Sandy Caws and me. “Were you writing a letter to Santa Clau “Des, mamma." “And what did you want him to do?” “Tum down chimmy and bing sing: trane, and lot—big, big lot canny, big big dolly, cart, nice Ittie dum; Kismus tee, big apple, nice new dess, new soos, all sose nice sings” (things). “What do you want Santa Claus to bring you?” “Das a secret, mamma.” “And you will not tell any one what you want except Santa Claus?” “No, mamma.” ‘Well, I guess that you want S Claus to come down the chimney and bring you a train and a lot of candy and a big dolly and a cart and a little nice gift, as you see, and not so queer as you may suppose, for it was eighty years ago that Rebecca got this yarn and enough of it to knit a pair of stock~ ings was a fine present for those times. Perhaps her aunt Rebecca spun the yarn on the great spinning wheel they had in those days. Now, Rebecca knew how to knit, and with this yarn she would knit a pair of stockings to sell, and not for one of the familv to wear. Sale stockings must be knit very strong, and Rebecca knit every stitch herself; even to the heels and the nar- rowing of the toes. When they were done the captain of a packet, who was a friend of theirs, took them and sold them for one dollar. Rebecca was very proud when the captain brought back the dollar and gave it to her. Then the question arose what she should do with the dol- lar. Should she buy something to wear or something good to eat, or would she put it in the bank to grow? Rebecca thought it over and talked about it. One person would say do this and an- other do that. Her uncle finally suggested a plan, which was that she should buy a lamb and then she would have wool of her own, and after a while a big flock of sheep. Rebecca liked this plan and bought a lamb. The next year she bought another, and in a few years she had a flock of thirty sheep. They were all great pets and very fond of Rebecca. When she went to the field and called them they would come running to her, and even the little l]ambs would crowd around her. Was it not a fine birthday gift from which a flock of thirty sheep could grow? MY UNCLE FRANK. By LAF SMITH, SAN FRANCISCO. NE rainy day Uncle Frank told us a story. “I was on a gun- boat in the Mississippi River during the Civil War,” he said, with Confederates all around us. There was a high levee along the bank, and they got behind that to shpot at us. One day my cousin Archie and I went to burn up one of their houses. We left a boat at the bank and started for the house. “I left Archie behind a tree and crept forward alone. I found that there were about one hundred men in it. Just as I was about to light a match one of the men came out. I shot at him and then ran toward the boat with all the other men following me. I barely es- caped and had tg leave Archie behind. O the Future, stra Doth Life’s river flow; In its stream the goodly bark Of the long ago. Now to me in memory Comes another shore, ‘Where the beat cheerily On a day of 3 L Spirit of a vanished hou Thou art with me yet Faded through each early flower 1 cannot forget! 1 had closed the schoolroom door When my task was done, Feeling, while my work was o’er, It had just begun. As T walked with drooping head Thinking of the day, Two small pupils, running, said, “Let us go and play.” Happy thought! my dreaming fled! Clasping hand in hand Forth we went, with airy tread, To the river’s strand. Skipping, dancing, up and down The merry children flew— Mabel dear, with orbs of brown, Blue-eyed Stella, too. Swift I ran along the sand— The children hurried after; All around that sunny laud Rang the joyous laughter. Roundabout I turn, and send My puplls in a flurry; Yet, before I may descend, Off again they scurry. h! I have you now, at last! No, you are mistaken!” Four small arms are 'round me cast I myself am taken. Down they bore me to the ground, Nor would 1 have risen; It were pleasure to be bound In so fair a prison! Sitting there they prattled long Of th d that grave(?) matter, [C) eter far than an Ng ‘Was that guileless chatter.) But as thus the dear ones spoke In their infant gladness Surging thoughts within me broke Like a wave of sadness. And T sald in careless way, “I go home to-mgrrow. O'er those faces bright and gay Came a cloud of sorrow. | Stella said, “You shall not go!” With her lips a-quiver; Mabel, turning, murmured low To the heedless river, Saving faintly, “If you stay We will tease you never; On the hill, in happy play, We can run forever!” Dearest child! T could not speak, But I gently kissed her, Then I kissed the rosy chéek Of her loving sister. ‘When at last I needs must start, My departure taking, ‘Well T know each tender heart Swelled to almost breaking. And alas! I walk to-day Lone and sorrow laden; *Mid the mountains far away Dwells each little maiden. What to me Ambition’s call! What the sordid gold! Gladly would I give my all For one song of old! Take thy harp, O elf of Timel Sound the chords of yore! Let that dulcet music chime With my heart once more! to this change he happened to swim among some fish who made comments upon his appearance; whereupon his vanity was so touched, he declared he was not a fish, but Sam Parker. This caused the water to ripple and the fish had to laugh. Hearing this a large fish swam up and asked him to desist, saying: “If you ever were Sam Parker, you are only a fish now. $o do not excite ridicule by boasting without founda- tion.” Sam was so pleased with this logic that he determined to make a friend of the fish, and learning he was going to the coast of Brazil, asked permission to accompany him, which was granted. By taking advantage of favorable currents they were able to visit many places of interest. “The way to manage,” explained his friend, “is to take time and be exact about your bearings. Now I have actu- ally known fish who were so careless they would get into currents that car- ried them quite out of their course, and others who swam to such a depth they could not live in any other wa- ters. Then again some fish like shal- low water. There is no accounting for taste.” Sam being of a sclentific turn found much of interest. Taking advantage of a chance to visit Manila, he swam around Dewey’s fleet and also explored some of the narrow channels and la- goons. But hearing firing from the shore, and narrowly escaping being caught by Spanish fishermen, he left for America, where the spell was broken. These adventures being of such an improbable nature. he has not told his friends about them, and when they ask him where he went and what happened to him, he only grins. —_—— THE SECRET FRANK KEPT HERE was a crash that sounded through the house, and mamma ran to see what the matter was. A moment later she reappeared leading by the chubby little right hand the pet of the family, little Frank, aged 3. Tears were running down the face of the curly-headed little prattler, and there was & look in his bright eyes that told that he knew he had been in mischief. His white dress was streaked with ugly black marks, and there were susplcious stains of black upon both of his hands. He was steered without de- lay, as the sailors might say, straight for the washbowl. A little soap and water took the black stains from his hands, but left the dress marked up in memory of his accident and his mis- chief, “What were you doing, asked the fond mamma. “0-0-0-h, ink all spill and baby get all black; dess all dir-r-r-ty.” “But what were you doing with the ink?” persisted mamma. “You love me, don’t'0o, mamma?" “Yes, 1 love you, but tell mamma what you were doing with the ink?” “Won't do so any more, mamma.” “Sure you will leave the ink alone as mamma told you?” “Des, mamma, I'll be dood all the Frankie?"” drum and a Christmas tree, a big apple and a nice Hew dress and a pair of new shoes and some more nice things.” “'Des, mamma.” But all the day long, until the curly head went to his daily nap, he would stop at times and say that his letter to Santa Claus was a ‘“‘secret,” and he would not tell any one, not even mamma, what Santa Claus was going to bring him; no, he wouldn't even tell mamma. AN ODD PRESENT. BY MARGARET BYRNE. N Rebecca’s ninth birthday her aunt Rebecca gave her a present. I think you would never guess what it was, so I will tell you. It was yarn, woolen yarn enough to knit a pair of stockings.” This was a ~ He ran to the house, after they had all gone. He set fire to the building and then went on to the river, and there found two Confederates who were try- ing to take the mail across. He cap- tured the mail and the boat; and that ‘was the last of that adventure.” gl Papa—You saw that big boy whipping the little one, and you didn’t interfere? Suppose you had been that little boy? Bobbie—I did think of.that, an’ was going to part 'em, but then I happened to think s’pose I was that big boy? So I left ’em alone. e “Don’t you think you have a good mamma to spread such nice, large slices of bread with jam for you?” asked little Ethel's grandma. “Oh, I donit know,” replied the little miss. “She’d be a heap sight gooder if she'd let me spread the jam myself.” W W,\, \\‘\ iy A GAY NIGHT AT STOW LAKE. OONLIGHT upon Stow Lake at Golden Gate Park. Moonlight upon the fair surface of the Pa- cific Ocean, which, seen in the distance, {s bright as a great shield of silver thrown down to reflect the star-sprinkled sky. Itis quite late and the last merry-boating party has gene home and the lake is deserted. Deserted? What is that which attracts the attention of Mr. Ohnimus, the keeper of the boats? There is a reach of water on either hand as he stands and gazes over the lake. To the left, as he faces toward the south, there is dimly seen an arched bridge not very far away. From the shadows that Jcluster thickly around the bridge slow- 1y there emerges something white and glimmering, and at the same time the lake boatman hears the measured cadence of oars. Looking about the float that fronts the boathouse, Mr. Ohnimus counts his boats and finds that none are missing. Whose boat, then, is this and how did it ever get upon Stow Lake without his knowledge or consent? A thought flashes over him that the:Park Com- missioners will inquire into this. Be- fore he can have a second thought upon the subject he hears the sweetest music that has ever pleased his ears. Stand- ing and listening he hears gay laughter, What is that queer-looking thing that is coming down out of the sky? Now it is like a speck; speedily it grows larger; now it is clearly made out to be an old woman who is riding a broom through the air. \ “Would have been here ' sooner, my dears,” said the old woman, in a crack- ed voice, “but the fact is that the cob- webs on the sky stick uncommonly tight this season and I could not come until I had the sky spick and span.” Up the hill teiled another old woman, leaning upon a staff. Her face was so full of kindness that at once it was evi- dent that this was no other than Qld Mother Hubbard. She carried her ‘‘poor dog” in her arms and put him down tenderly upon the grass while she went into the boathouse to see if she could not find hirm » “one there. The boats came faster and faster, un= til all the landing, space of the float would surely be needed to give accom= modation to all the unexpected visitors to Stow Lake. There was a brave lit- tle man, whom all the others named with respect, as he was Jack the Giant Killer. Another was a boy, who had a vine planted beside the boathouse in a jiffy. This vine grew straight up- ward, and at such a prodigious rate that Jack of the Bean Stalk, for it was he, was soon out of sight, climbing up e Cut out these five pieces and arrange them in the form of a Maltese cross. which indicates that another boat of mysterious origin is coming from the opposite direction. Another and an- other—and now it is clear to him that at least a score of boats are upon the lake. The first of the number is now near the float, and in another minute the oc- cupants of it are ready to land. They are the queerest people that ever have been seen in the park. First there stepped ashore a little girl who led by a long blue ribbon a snowy lamb, which bleats with evident joy, now that its voyage is over. “Let it go, Mary,” says a gentle volce, and before the boatman can in- terfere the lamb is nipping the well kept turf about the margin of the lake. ‘‘Ha, ha, ha,” sounds a faint little voice. The next instant the air vibrates to the sound’of a silvery horn. * At this the lamb looks up a little bit alarmed, but when it notices that the owner of the horn is a very small and sleepy lad, who is dressed in blue, it goes to eating once more. “Wake up, wake up, Little Boy Blue!"” calls out a later arrival, who wears a hood of red, and who is known at once as Red Riding Hood. She looks cau- tiously about to make sure that there are no wolves in the park; then she gives her attention to a dainty little lady who is just alighting from a beau- tiful little carriage that has come un- noticed along the carriage drive to the edge of the boathouse. As she steps to the ground, being assisted by a brave little prince, whose raiment is glisten- ing with diamonds and other rare gems, a moonbeam touches her dainty slip- pers, and behold, they are of glass! Cinderella stands there truly. it. Little Boy Blue had to be awakened to blow his horn three times before Jack would come down to join the others in their merrymaking. One old woman—the one who used to live in a shoe. and had so many chil- dren that she didn’t know what to do —came in a boat that nearly sank while crossing the lake, her crowd of chil- dren filling it so full that it was very hard work for the old woman to find room to move the oars enough to row. Prety soon the entire queer party surrounded the boatman and clasping hands, danced around him and sang all about “Lonlon bridge is falling down,” and followed this up with ‘Ring a- round a-ro pocket full of posy” and when they came to the part where “all fall down,” down they. plumped, so cunning and so charming that the boatman could not but shout “brave” in sign of approval That was the very worst thing that he could do. The whole throng van- ished like magic and he saw them no more. But this was not the end of the mat- ter. Several days later, still puzzled over what he had seen and not guite sure but that he had been dreaming, Mr. Ohnimus walked to the top of Strawberry Hill. Something that glis- tened in the grass beside the path caught his watchful eyes. He bent over and picked it up; and what do you think it wa:? Why. it was a plece ;of glass, shaped just like the toe of fthe smallest and daintiest slipper Imagin- able. Now if that was not a piece of the glass slipper of Cinderella, dropped during -her flight from the lake, what was {t? That is a question which the children must answer, for I confess that it is too hard for me. . THE TALK OF THE GARDEN. OME trees and plants were one day having a little talk together, and telling their experiences. The chestnut tree, which was the larg- est and oldest, said: “Little did I think I should live to grow so large and wave my branches over the heads of boys and girls as they gathered my fruit in the autumn, for while I was still a green chestnut in my prickly burr squirrels tried to pry into. my house; but the prickles were so sharp they gave up in despair. Soon Jack Frost came and I rattled onto the ground. Then I expected to be picked up and roasted, but winter found me still lying there. The snow kept me warm until spring; then it began to rain, and I swelled up so my outer coat burst and my little stem appeared. It looked like a tail. I had kept it hidden in my shell during the cold weather. How glad I was when some boys picked me up and planted me. The.soil was just what I needed to make me grow, and here I am, a great big tree.” The cherry tree standing near said: “I was afraid I never should live to grow into a ripe cherry. At first I was as green and unpalatable as you can imagine. The robins and cedar birds flew into my tree every day, they were so impatient for me to ripen. The robin pecked at me, but I was so green and bitter that he flew away and stayed until I was red and julcy. Then I did_not care if he did have a good meal of me, for I knew I could grow \/‘7;,/7 Just as well if he did. He could not pry open my hard stone, and you know my stem and leaves were hidden in there. One of the boys carried me to the orchard just as I was sprouting and planted me beside you.” Just then a tomato plant called over the fence: “I never expected to grow up either, for while I was still in a green tomato a chicken came along and began picking at the tomato. She ate up some of my mates, but there were 80 many of us she did not-get to me. The tomato ripened just the same and was carried into the house, but was so badly pecked that it would not do for the table. The kind lady took us seeds out and laid us away until spring. It was _fortunate that we were not left on.the ground as you were, wasn't 1t? for we had no strong covering like you to protect us from the birds and the weather.” THE YOUNG JOKERS. After the Correction: Papa—Now, Johnny, I have whipped you only for your own good. I believe I have only done my duty. Tell me truly, what do you think yourself? Johnny—If I should tell you what I think you'd give me another whipping. Mamma—Johnny, see that you give Ethel the lion’s share of that orange. Johnny—Yes, ma. Ethel—Mamma, he hasn't given me any. Johnny—Well, that's all right. don’t eat oranges.—Tit-Bits. Lions