The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, February 19, 1899, Page 24

HE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 1899 Prominent Men to the Rescue Of the Association. HE council of the Mercantile B brary has been very busy in the past week forming a committee of one hundred members to raise $100,000. It will require that much to pay off the debt of the library and put it on its feet once more. “The committee is formed,” sald George Newhall, president of the Mercantile Association, when asked about xpectations of the gentlemen who have the matter in hand: “The action will shortly be taken which will prove to the world that the citizens of San Fran- cisco are proud of their reference library and will not allow it to become bank- rupt.” *“What will you do to raise $100,0007"* ““Wel one hundred men have agreed each to raise $1000. We will not ask any questions as to where or how or when they v, have only to get it A, get the money. Th and it in. We have made out a list 6f the men we think can and will give from & $1000, and each of the com- mittee hundred will call upon to him. What we cannot we are going to make ary is dear to every started away > birth to the Libr: an. It wi nes which sa; On December was held. Of meeting not Irving M oung mer- “who had ind under very We were a com- fro our homes in nd the death- There was and great There were no places ement where we could no re: country off T the training in plains. luence strewn t it o. theater, called g in the nen was $50,000 meeting wa . but the meeti ok was fixed at Two thousand dol nizht and within a to $5000. In the formal opening of Rooms in the Cali- at every way to f it was not own home cclusively for the lot wa rere the 5 chased ad on I 000, and after coun- 00,000 on the lot and the The cornerstone wz General Barnes, who was wcomer: then, made the oration. It nt. Exclusive of tha e was still §150,000 which ha ¢ seemed anxiou bonds which the asso building now 50,000. They on borrowed ing to be. e Masons. 1 ation had to se They held a fair, but it was not a suc- cess exc Next they tried lec- tures. But it the library more to bring the speakers out from the East than the audie returned at the doors. 206860 POPOOPPVDPPOPPOOPVOOP®OPO®OO ® @ ® VPPV PPOOOOOOOOO060SS Mrs. Annle Yeamans recently celeb: debut on the stage. TRBANNERMAN TREASURER e — TLE BRARY, GEORGE A. NEWHALL. PRESIDENT-. e CHAS.J.KING. SECRETARY. some of the Leading Members of the Committee Now Hard at Work to Save the Pioneer Library of San Francisco. The Loan Society would wait no longer for its interest on the mortgage. There was a young actress singing in the city at that time. Her name was Ca- milla Urso. “Cannot we give a musical festival? 466000 Hardships of an Actress’ Life. By Mrs. Annie Yeamans. R RO OB ORCORORORCRCR: rated the fiftleth anniversary of her This dear, delightful woman is a living refutation of the old belief that the stage destroys one physically and makes old women out of young ones. For, desplte her sixty years, she is buoyant with life and health. She comes of an old theatrical family TAGE life is no harder than any other life, nor any more demoral- {zing if a girl takes care of her- self. It's the dissipation, not the work, that wears one out. Heavy midnight suppers, wine and loss of sléep are the things that, like rocks about her neck, drag a woman down to the low- ést depths, both morally and physically. Tt 1s the never-ceasing pursuit of pleas- use that is destroying the present genera- tion. When I was young we just hadn’t time t6 think of anything but work and travel, studying our parts and rehearsal. My gracious! brandy sodas, cocktails, gin fizzes and highballs—why, We never thought of such things! Those were days of hard work. There was a change of programme every night. One night we would play a rollicking farce, the mext a tragedy, then vaude- ville or one of the pretty old-time roman- tic plays, followed by Shakespeare or grand opera. I've played all sorts of parts—boy, gifl, ingenue, heavy; 4l things at all times. The stock companies in those days didn’t carry understudies, and when a man fell ill or was otherwise incapacitatéd I was frequently called upon to play his part. I have played with nearly all the great actors of my time. ‘What men they were, to be sure! What would happen if David Garrick, Edwin Forrest, Kean and others whose names appear in lurid letters upon the pages of dramatic history were to come back and act in the same manner as they did when living? They wouldn’t be accepted at the old rates. There is a vast difference between the acting of to-day and that of fifty years ago. To-day it is ratural acting that people want. Then it was all blus- ter and rant and noise. My first appearance on the stage was Half a century ago as a small boy in white duck knee breeches and saflor blouse, dancing on the stage of a small theater in Sydney, Australia. I was An- nie Griffiths on the bill: In the entire cast that night there was no happier or more self-important mem- ber than myself. When I was.d5 my father apprenticed me to a circus. I was taught to ride, to walk a slack wire and to do all sorts of evolutions on the poles and aerial swings. In fact, I did everything from riding in the entree to the character and double acts. Oh, how my small bones used to ache and what terrible falls and accidents I used to have. Still, I liked the life, even traveling as we did from one mining camp to another packed like sardines in springless wagons that bumped the breath out of us every time we struck a stone or rut in the road. One day another circus marched into the little Australian town of Adelaide, where I was playing. With its bright red wagons, its German band and all its other many attractions it fairly staggered the inhabitants of the little village. With the outfit was a New York comedian named Ned Yeamans. Soon afterward we mar- ried. I joined the same circus and trav- eled with it to Java, Singapore, Shanghai and Yokohama. In Shanghai the manager of the company took ill and the company disbanded. My husband and I gathered together a little band of stranded actors end gave plays twice a week in a bunga- low theater which Mr. Yeamans had built. When the cholera broke out we went to Yokohama, where we gave performances that quite delighted the simple Japs. Soon we made enough money in Japan to leave for America In 1868. My first engagement in San Francisco was with old Charles Wheatleigh, so long a member of Daly's company. He and his wife had a theater here and she was en- gaged to dance a highland fling and Irish jig between the acts of a melodrama that was then playing. ———— Women Gamblers. Sald a man of my acquaintance re- cently: “Do you know that I belleve women would be the most desperate gamblers on earth if they dared.” “Nonsense!” was my remark. “It’s not nonsense,” he argued warm- ly. “I've watched them, old and young, pretty and homely, light and dark, and even in the small games that their pocket-books and their consciences al- low them to play their excitement in winning or losing is something terrific.” And he caused me to do a little think- ing on his side, though not for the world would I have admitted it to him, I remembered a game of cards that caused the separation of two of the dearest and sweetest women in the world three years ago. Of course it was poker. Poker seems to be played everywhere, or was at that time, and this diabolical cluster of “fulls,” traights,” “two pairs,” “threes of a kind,” “flushes” and “fours” has caused more misery and made more mischief among the women of this city than will ever be ex- ploited! There were five of them in a fashion- able boarding-house up town, and I, as a caller, made six. Rain had ruined a matinee proposi- tion; there was nothing to read, and dullness descended. “Let's play poke: said Mrs. C. * i“smendmz" ‘was the general ejacula~ tion. Two of the ladies had never played, but they were soon instructed. Then it vas discovered that there were no hips.” But a descent upon the cook produced 300 or 400 white beans, which Mrs. C. took charge of. “I'll be banker,” she sald, as she counted out the beans in lots of 100 each. “We'll play 5-cent limit and you shall have $5 worth.” The two amateurs gurgled with amusement. “How awfully funny,” they said. “Why, we feel like real gamblers.” I declined to join the game, believing that $5 in the pot was worth $20 in the “jackpot.” The game proceeded amid much nervous excitement and many “Ohs!™ and “Ahs!” and “Dear mes!"” and re- marks of that sort. “Why, isn’t that a flush?" “Why, your hand wasn’t as good as mine. I think you're real mean.” Then somebody asked: “What good are four queens?” ‘Whereupon all laid down their hands and the inquisitive one gathered in all there was in sight, with the remark: “I didn’t have fou- queens, but just ‘wondered.” 20000 ® The people here are liberal to musicians,” she asked. “We have no talent and it will mean endless labor and more expense. We are afraid of it,” the assoclation answered. Then let me do it myself,” she replied. CRURCRCRCRCRCY 2000000000066 At length there was a battle royal on between Mrs. C. and one of the be- ginner: I happened to sit right behind the lat- ter and saw her hand. It consisted of three aces and a pair of kings. Nothing but “four of a kind” could beat it. Back and forth, back and forth, bet and “raise,” more be ises,” until the holder-of the “full hand exhausted all for more. The banker gave her 100 mcore made a memorandum of ‘t. The betting went on as ficrcely 8~ b+ had her beans and clamored and can Camilla Urso collected all the musical talent, both trained and untrained, and drilled choruses and soloists. She worked long and hard, and turned over $20,600 beans represent money. You owe me you're *alking nonsense.” Mrs. C.'s lips grew very white. “Do you mean to sa: she asked, “that you didn’t understand that we were playing for money? “Of course I didn’t.” Mrs. C. swept the beans into a recep- tacle, dabbed the cards into the table drawer, cast a look of withering scorn upon her late opponent and stalked out of the room. The two women have not spoken to each-other since. Perhaps the most precious sword In ex- istence is that of the Goekwar of Baroda. Its hilt and belt are incrusted with dia- s i and emeralds, and it is 0.000. The Shah of Persia s a sword valued at $50,000. His father wore it on his first visit to Europe. There are some costly swords in India, while both the Czar.and the Sultan pos- sess jeweled sabers of great price. The most valuable sword in:England is the one vresented by ‘he Zgyptians to Lora “Why, ry well, and we will help you all weabove all expenses, after the close of the festival. But $20,000 would not pay the principal of the debt, and it hung like a millstone around the neck of the young associa- tion. Desperate crises call for desperate measures, and desperate measures had to be resorted to. The expedient adopted was a lottery. Bitter disputes were had and bitter fighting engendered. “If we do succeed in raising the money in such a way.” sald some, “it will be a _Commitfcees Hard at Work To Free It From Debt, curse. Besides it is against the law.” “Get the law changed. Everyth shall be perfectly legitimate,” they were answered. Henry Haight was Governor at the time. The Legislature passed a bill a thorizing the association to hold “thr gift concerts at which articles of valy should be distributed, providing the pro- ceeds are devoted to the liquidation of the indebtedness of the association.” Those for and those against the lottery besieged Governor Haight, one side to veto, and the other side to sign the bill. It became a political issfie, and the city was much excited, but at last the Go ernor signed the bill and the lottery was made pessible. General Barnes, President Ralston of the Bank of California and a Mr. Selig- man had charge of the arrangements. The bribes ranged from $85,000 to $5 and chances were sold at $5 each. There were at this time 2000 subscribers to the library and every one, both in and out of the as- sociation, wanted a chance. On the night of the first drawing $400,000 was lying in the bank from the sale of tickets. Financially the lottery was a great suc- cess, for all debts were paid and still a balance of $20,000 was standing to the as- sociation’s credit at the bank. This was in 1870, the time of the library’'s greatest advance. Many of the most valuable works were purchased and the library has many rare volumes, more than the visitor at the library may imag; Bug values of real estate and rates taxes were growing rapidly. The bui in the heart 4f the city was with vear becoming a burden harder to c: Finally the building was sold to the tele- phone company, which occupies it now, and the library was moved then to its present building on Van Ness and Golden Gate avenues. Now the library is in trouble again. No interest has been paid for two years, much less any principal. “We can pay expenses and buy a few books, but the interest is beyond us,” said Mr. Newhall. It is too good a library to have closed, and It is too venerable to be left to want. The other libraries of the city may be more convenient to reach, but not one has the “booky” atmosphere for real study and quiet reading which pervades the Mercantile. H. GREY. —_— ee———— Some time since we saw an account of how Bismarck, at the time when it was thought Germany wanted to get a foot- hold in Holland, was entertaining the Dutch Embassador with a review of the German army. As one fine body of men marched by, Bismarck said to the Dutch Embassador, “What do you think of these men?” » “Fine soldiers,” said the Embassador, “but not tall enough.” After another body marched by the same inquiry was put and the same re- ply made. Then came the regiment of grenadiers, between six and seven feet tall. “What do you think of those?” asked Bismarck. “Fine soldiers, but ‘was the reply. ‘“What does your said Bismarck. “‘I mean that we can flood Holland eight feet deep,” replied the Embassador ling not tall enough,” Excellency’ mean?” —————— He—I want you to understand no woman ever made a fool of me! She—Indeed! Who did it, then?— 6>@@@®®®<~)@@@@0@@@@@@@@00‘00@@@6600900000900000@0000@@@0@00000 3 S S Spacial L'T’\':\I{Dfi ]’(’IPLING has apo- parently settled down in the lit- to The Sunday Call. x village of Rotting- four miles to the of Brighton. The place is doubtless dear to him for old associjations’ sake. It was here that he spent his holidays during the period of his career at Westward Ho! School. All the old villagers remember him: when, as the nephew of Burne-Jones. he was known throughout the parish as “+he little Indian.” The Kipling hov<e tle Suss dean, some eastward Kipling’s Home at Rottingdean,; England. fore. I felt like giving the ‘‘full hand” lady a hint that she was betting her hand too high, but of course could not do so. At last the banker ‘“called” threw her hand on the table. “Four sixes!” “Dear me,” sighed the loser. e § thought I'd surely win. What a lot I bet! Lucky it wasn’t real money!"” Mrs. C. stared at her. “What do you mean?” “Why, it'’s lucky they were only beans.” “You must be crazy, Mrs. B. The and Wolseley. The hilt is set with brilllants and is valued at $10,000. In payment of a football bet a Boston actor rode through some of the main streets of the Hub recently in an open carriage dressed as a Spanish troubadour and waving a Spanish flag. A curious crowd followed the unfortunate actor and he was treated to some expressions of what the sidewalk contingent thought of a man who had the audacity to wave a Spanish flag on Washington street. The expected shower of missiles, for which the actor had prepared himself, did not materialize, however, and he pald his bet. A is an old-fashioned place, surrounded by a high brick wall, and looking out on the tiny village green. It is called the Elms. Rottingdean is a delightful survival from the last century—a watering place unmarred by railway facilities, and only connected with the outside world by a coach which runs to Brighton. A greater contrast could scarcely be im- agined than that which exists between the great, florid city last mentioned. and its out of the* way, Dpictur- Rudyard Kipling's Home in England. 1 06600000000 00000000000000000000000000606006000000000 esque little neighbor. A very ancient village is the chosen home of the laureate of imperialism. The Dooms- day Book mentions it. In the reign of Richard II the Frencn effected a landing here, and attempted to march across the downs, capture Lewes, and avenge the Black Prince’s victory at Crecy. They were opposed by a mere handful of yeomen; but lost heart and returned to their ships. = The secret of this mysterious retreat will soon be made apparent to any one who tries to cross the downs to Lewes. The cross- ing of those wild chalk hills and deso- late valleys might well daunt a for- eigner. But if nature has given you a stout heart, vigorous lungs, and the ability to climb ridge after ridze un- complainingly, the very best way to enter Rottingdean is by those self- same downs from Lewes. The village lies at the extremity of a “combe’—a narrow valley stretching tar inland. Up this combe, from the very edge of the great chalk cliffs, winds the single street, to where the gray old English church stands sentinel over the green. In the little churchyard only a few weeks ago William Black, the novelist, was laid to rest, and the flowers are still banked upon his grave. In the middle of the green lies the horsepond; and all around are houses, each of which possesses an interesting history of its own. There is the vicarage, for instance, looking across the green to Mr. Kipling’s window. TUnder its high roof many famous men received their early education, among the number being Bulwer Lytton, the great Duke of Wellington and Cardinal Manning. For the old Rottingdean vicars also eked out a livelihood by keeping a school. You may read in the Earl of Lytton's 'life of his father how the great novelist became “cock of the school” by thrashing a bigger boy named Moreton. This was under Dr. T. R. Hooker in 1817. Long before then Wellington had frisked about the green, and learned how to construe in the vicarage. To the left of the old school, with its back to a great chalk hill, is the house which the late Sir Edward Burne-Jones built for himself; and wherein he died. Sir Wemyss Reid ‘(another uncle of Mr. Kipling) also lives near by; and a new member of the literary colony here is L. Cope Cornford, the novelist. Mr. Kipling's garden wall stretches across the upper part of the green. The house, as will be seen from the accom- panying picture, is two-storied with an attic. The front gate (by which a keen eye can just discern two of the Kipling children at play) is rarely opened. The entrance is by the smaller wicket, fur-' ther down the street, and directly fac- ing the church. The house was orig- inally built by Thomas d'Oyley, ser- geant-at-law, in the last century. Mr. Kipling's working room at present is that represented by the second floor bow window on the left. Hence he can see the downs, the long range of cliffs, and the English Channel. On clear days Beachey Head is distinctly visible; and the Dieppe steamers may be seen beating into New Haven. stm.lgh; opposite Mr. Kipling's house, *® ® ° L4 L4 on the other side of the green, is a quaint old inn—the Plough, kept by one Bleyber, who knew the author of ‘“Recessional” when he was a swarthy youngster just home from India. Bley- ber and Mr. Kipling are fast friends; although they differ widely in politics. Not long since ‘Bleyber fell ill, and Mr. Kipling, by way of cheering him up, was wont to drop in of an evening to argue imperialism versus little England policy. The discussion invariably waxed hot; so that when Mr. Kipling left, the innkeeper’s pulse had quickened abnor- mally, and he was feverish to a degree which puzzled the local physician. At length, however, the medical man heard of these visits. Going to Mr. Kipling’s house, he absolutely forbade him to pay any more visits to Bleyber “unless he wanted to murder the man with argument.” The incident excited much amusement in Rottingdean; but nobody laughs more heartily over it thyn Mr. Kipling himself, unless, per- haps, it be the now recovered inn- keeper. The walk to Brighton from Rotting- dean lies along the summit of the cliffs, which present an almost uniform height of 200 feet all the way. On almost any fine day one may meet the knickerbockered Kipling striding along the chalky road, or lounging about the beach. —————— “KRicking” Worth While. ‘Well,” said the little woman, “if a woman is going to make a success in life she must do a queer lot of ‘hustling.’ I know that is slang, but it seems to be really the only .word which fits the case. The way & woman has to keep on the go all the time to make a success of any business she undertakes puts me in mind of a little story I c..ce heard about two frogs. “A farmer carrying his milk to market one morning stopped at a brook to water his milk as usual. In dipping up the water he scooped up two ‘frogs, and into tne milk they went. “One frog said to the other, ‘T am go- ing to drown. I cannot keep myself aliv ‘Well, I am not,” replied his companion. ‘I am going to kick tor all T am worth.” ““When the farmer reached his destina- tion and the can was opened one poor froggie was lying dead at the bottom, but the other had kicked to such advantage that he was quietly sitting on a fair-sized lump of butter. And that is what I am going to do. I am not going to give up now and allow myself to drown, but I am going to kick for all I am worth. —_———— The Novosti of St. Petersburg gives a description of roses that are jet black in color, and which are the result of ten years’ toil and thought by a florist named Fetisoff, in Woronesch, Russia. This man has produced some remark- able effects in the garden world. His latest success with the black roses has stirred up quite a sensation among the lovers of flowers in Russia, Some specimens were sent to the Czar by Fetisoff, and a beautiful collection of them has been sent to London to be e:mbned at the coming annual flower show. Sheere R ) Wife—What would you do if you had no wife to look after your mendi £ Hl;; ‘?7 kfio%? ? Why, in th: e usband—Do? y, In that case I could afford to buy new clothes,—] - Selphta Times. = R