The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 30, 1899, Page 23

7 THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, UNDAY 30, 1899. APRIL I NSAY BRI is coming sition, st, g aw planning | much more,” was the lamenting response. | qn. Gn° ordinary week.day erowd. At 5 be applied to the | The Americans who are coming to the | or ¢ g'clock in the afternoon it is often | & isian would must be prepared to pay for simply ravenous ing E h to the|sighs audibly and then expresses an so says | honest conv cape him : have pos- is worse for the exposition wiil 1 in he to i o oChims {As PE 5|.c1N;u|> fcg‘fnev tion programme, but would simply ad- vise him to try it at home first. truth of the matter is that Parls is the | worst place on earth in which to econo- | mize. 'Not only is everything very ex- pensive, but | every turn. To pray ‘lead us not into temptation” and to continue to live in Pa- | ris is ironical. Be your taste for culture, for dress or for dainties of the culsine, you | will find unlimited opportunities to spend your money and your pangs will be great |1f you have not the money to spend. Dur- ing the exposition these temptations will | be many times more frequent, for all the world in this regard is conspiring against ction that a girl who dresses ike that should pay more for her board: She pays your price, doesn't she?" I one of these demon “Yes, but she can afford to give | are expected 1 am curfous to know. With the primitive methods of transportation that exist she is not successful in han- | impossible to find a place In an omnibus even after waiting an hour or more at the station. It is nothing extraordinary to wait that length of time and then be It will be no cheap ex- ady prices of living are on nd there is no telling what | be. Every Frenchman in| compelled to take a carriage to get home. > make a fortune in 1%0. | portunately the flacres are not expen- 15 are possessed ‘nf the | sive, the price being 35 cents a trip. When , "“1”““ in Parls Uving IS | cypended several times a day, however, nothing, but this notion is abso- | 5o’ g absolutely necessary If one's time a delusion and a snare. be valuable, it adds considerable to the expense. The visitor of next yvear will have trials innumerable. and cheated at every turn of the road and A young art student from San Fran- cisco told me that he had expected to pay not more t $25 a month for his room board. “I don’t believe that I could p i ‘x'i:<]“l'ei!>|'-"‘_P“";q_sg"ll-h"“"“ his money will get away from him with LR di‘;!m lv‘" o ““n“l astonishing rapldity. The Frenchman is : T Weil. T have huntod the tome|so small in his cheats that the American A ) o8 R A Ths : room | S Dot on the alert for them. The Amer- ¢ 10 81 DOFGDRIOE ©°°M | jcan watches his dollars and thinks him- - o answere they | o1 the fourth floor With meals that are |y very smart ang secure, wiils: the 3 hejans thing, The | mone too good.” | Frenchman {s contentedly gnawing away i s that we Lo oune man is a :;‘:g:;‘:fi; | at the sou end of the pocketbook. If one i fifif fnz;’?c “‘}fl 50 g | cannot speak the language the difficul- te was it not, to | g st i'L_ o A gon ?hfi | ties will be greater. There will be ample e : t s uttered L) )” ‘:I‘ j ‘3‘1‘ = :“” 'I‘" | need for all one’s reserve stock of pa- fullness of o1 Tod 1 apt 1o runn ines | tlence and amiability. , (There 18 no | (2% ation without any AR This fs a hint of the disagreeable slde n the bosom of | ye fancies that his body will be of no ‘r’:‘]"ffd‘:“;‘f;i‘:}h:;;‘e"";‘s‘°‘:‘-l Ty celight- e s v ch longer to de- centleman tells me that e SR LR s s e S e at o certain | . real pangs of emptiness: | aNce the exposition will be worth it—yes, ra ohen | ot his head swim for want of proper |1 have o doubt of It, a thousand times to the d me a franc and 1 times m th 1 to g d do not find it meric n among the French is not | how In the thing is worth, but made to pay. 0000000 barber, a franc answered. that too shment, and he will find his dreams | reverting from heaven to earth. Loth | though he may be to confess it, the win- dow of a patisserie will become more at- | ctive than any picture in the Louvre apparitions of savory roast beef wil le themselves persistently where all | had been “art for art's sake.” The exposition of next year s going to be a fabulously splendid affair. I am | watching its progress with a great deal | of interest, and am satisfled that it will be worth almost any sacrifice. I would From the top of the Eiffel Tower the exposition looks very unimportant, prob- ably as unimportant as this little ter- restrial globe with its microscopical in- habitants looks to the man in the moon. It seems a study only for the entomolo- gist. . Thousands of animated dots, run- ning confusedly in all directions, crawling up minlature columns, hanging to invis- ible ropes, suggests nothing greater than 80 many insects. One feels that a hand- iss America appears in a | not even discourage the enthusiast who | ful of yellow powder could end instan- gown, the old lady shakes her ncad,1 feels that he could persevere in a starva- | taneously this Paris exposition, about C00Cc0C0000000000000000C0000000000000000000000000000000 [>) (] 3 L. R d ; : How John L. Roused the S . [ Wrath of the Australians g [ Manager MacMahon Relates the Peculiar Troubles He Experienced While Intro- g ducing the Great Champion to the Antipodeans. - © © 0000000000000 00000000000C00000000000000000000000000000 OR a man MacMahor For ife, veled rot nany fa seve n performers. M pugilist, J L. Sullivan, he Colonfes I 1ght I was good thing when I sect surely x 1est e of Duncan B. sful plays. re in my enterprise. matte He pecis in Aus the continent. “Shows how difficult it is to forecast events in the theatrical world. Bullivan's just turned 40, James |inordinate appetite for food and liquor as had a remarkable | proved his more | fair a heavy loser. ever since he | prize fighter he promised me he would run theaters and | never touch a drop of liquor during the! 11 parts of the world, he | engagement, but unfortunately he did not 14 the globe in the com- | keep his word. nous stars, and has man- | of the largest play- | aking the lead in in- : to that country many brilliant | many thousand dollars. We opened at the lahon who took the famous | were so anxious to see Sullivan that we to Australia, and MacMahon, who is now on a visit to in the States look- | friends, and_when the’ curtain rang up tions to send out to | was nowheré®o be found. After scouring that I first came across John | the city in cabs we at last discovered him, in | but the audience had a long and tiresome | city, speaks somewhat regretfully of occurrence. “It was in 1891,” said the | anager, “when I w; 'g for fresh attr: ed him, at a | walt. to play the blacksmith's part | as a blacksmith, and bang away at an Hearts and Willing Hands,” Harrison’s most suc- So much so that a mana- New York offered me $5000 for a half I consulted the | sparkling in his shirt front, and round his .t impresario, Henry BE. Abbey, about but he advised me to decline. thought so highly of John L.’s pros- ralia that he feared in him a us rival to Sarah Bernhardt, whom he was about to take on a tour through his heavy hammer as if he meant to hurl it at the audience, shouted back, ‘You ducks, I'll put a tall on some of you!’ “The speech was fatal. The Australian audiences, having discovered that Sulli- van could not act, would not pay for the mere pleasure of seeing him on the boards. All they wanted was to see him fight, and of course we could not have a fistic combat every night on the stage. If I had been in the pugilistic business I might have made barrels of money out of Sullivan, but unfortunately I had hold of the wrong end of the stick. “Sullivan’s _appetite, like his strength, was enormous. On one occasion I was having supper with a party of ladies In a Sydney hotel, when the pugilist forced his way into the - >m. ‘Don’t be afraid of me, ladies,’ he said as he seized a whole turkey from the table, tore it apart with his hands, and commenced crunching the bones. Still, Sullivan's appearance was not reassuring, and the ladies all fled. “‘Only once did I receive a blow from Sullivan, and then, though it was but & ruin, and T came out of the af- ‘When I engaged the ““The first words Sullivan uttered on the stage in Australia did the whole business. Tt was a memorable speech, and cost me | Melbourne Opera-house, and the people had a record house and had to turn away money. “Unfortunately, during the afternoon, Sullivan got drinking with some of his The pugilist had to appear dressed ‘nn\‘il with a heavy hammer. In his haste | Sullivan had no time to change, and rushed on the stage attired In evening dress, a thousand-dollar diamond stud weeks, to Australla expressly to meet Sullivan, but the fight could not be arranged. “‘One day when I was sitting alone with the fighter he boastfully declared that he was afraid of no man. I had the impu- dence to retort, John L. just reached out his left, without any apparent effort, tapped me on | waist the rough leather working apron | of a blacksmith. The gallery boys, who | are always demonstrative in Australia, | shouted and yelled themselves hoarse. “Where've you been, Sullivan? they de- visively eried. ‘Where did you get them clothes?" “Instead of going on with the play, Sul- livan turned from his anvil, and swinging The | How Paris will manage the crowds that | He will be imposed upon | mere playful tap, I felt the effects for! You know Slavin offered to come | ne B G EXPOSIFION which all the world is dreaming. On the second landing as one descends the in- sects become well defined midgets, the | houses respectably sized toys, one even e | hears the faint sound of many hammers. there are temptations at | It is only on the first landing from the ground, however, that one appreciates the splender and the magnitude of the enter- prise. One is high enough to escape all obstructions and yet the men are still men. One realizes that the scheme is a human one and wonders if this gray old world has ever looked upon a busier scene. Near a little bend in the Seine the towers and the quaint roofs of “Old | Paris” are already near enough to com- | pletion to be picturesque and interesting. | I fancy that no other feature of the ex- | position will contribute so much to the general effect. It is a real city that they are building there. 'When completed it will be the history of Paris with all the movement and charm of life. The designers have not been too archaeo- logical in their ideas, I am told, but have chosen to reconstruct the most curious and the most historically important of the old Parisian edifices. The visitor will enter “Old Paris” by the Porte Saint Michel, which will be gayly decorated with flags, banners and escutcheons, the supposed occasion being the expected entree of a princely party. | From the galleries erected for the event | music will sound in honor of the ap- proaching party, while near the door the | sheriffs of the city will harangue. | The musicians of “o0ld” Paris will an- nounce every morning that the city is awake, while at night the chimes will peal the retreat for visitors. Imposing sentinels and guards clad in the military | costumes of the times will parade at all | hours to keep In order the students, the vagrants and the players or to lead the | gullty ones to the plllory. Near the Porte Saint Michel one will see the ‘‘Mai- son aux Piliers,” famous as the house of the Hanseatic League and the cradle of Parisian commerce. Here commences the street of the old schools, which will be fllled with little shops and merchants in picturesque costumes, The most at- tractive of all the shops will perhaps be that of the tapissier Poquelin, where the corner post is resplendent with carved monkeys gathering fruits. From this little shop went forth one day In the arms of his godmother a tiny son of the tapissier to be baptized in the neighbor- ing church. This petit Poquelin was af- terward known to the world as Moliere. Near by is the house of Nicholas Flamel, who 1s supposed to have discov- ered the philosopher’s stone and who after the popular belief of the times possessed vast treasures buried In the cellars of his house. After the death of M. Flamel and his family the poor were 0000C00000000000000 the shoulder. Over I went, chair and all, into the middle of the room. Good thing for me he didn't hit out serlously, wasn't 1t?” built man, and Sullivan could have crush- ed him as easily as he would a fly. Mac- Mahon had a narrow escape, and has rea- son to be thankful that the pugilistic giant did not hit straight from the shoul- der. “To wind up my experiences with Sullivan,” continued the manager, “I must tell you his concise comment on the country. I asked him wnat he thought of Australia. He replied, ‘I like the place | and the people well enough, but I don't | ilke their dramatic crickets.’” MacMahon’s first dramatic experience | was gained as manager for Mrs. Scott Siddons, the famous tiagedienne, whom | he piloted for several years on an extend- | ed tour through the States. | *“We first opened in San Francisco in | 1878 at the Grand Opera-house,” he said, “and made a tremendous success. I con- | sider Mrs. Siddons’ Rosalind in “As You ;lee It” was unequaled In her time; in | fact, she was a fitting successor to the | great Helen Faucett. She was® most earnest in her pursuit after realistic ef- fect, and when she was studying for Ophelia actually spent weeks in a luna- tic asylum in order to get the true note | of the unforunate Leroine's msdne;p. —————————— An Irish principal in a recent impromp- | tu mill, realizing that he was being bad- | ly worsted, vigorously protested to the | bystanders against the methods of his adversary. “Sure, an’ wasn't it to be a fair stand- up fight?” he excitedly exclaimed. “It certainly was,” returned an on- looker, who had been a witness of the preliminary arrangements. “An’ how, thin,” retorted the defeated candidate, ‘‘can he be ixpictin’ me to ‘What about Slavin? | shtand up and foight “im fairly if he do and | be knockin' me down all the toime?’— Richmond Dispatch, | MacMahon is & very diminutive, slightly | allowed to live In the house free charge, only on conditlon of praying for the souls of the deceased. Over the door will be seen this inscription: ““We men and women, laborers llving in this house, which was built in the year of grace 1407, are each held to say every day a Pater- noster and an Ave Maria and to pray the Grace of God for all poor sinners. Amen.” In this street also is the house that might be called the cradle of the press of France. It was occupied by Theophraste Renoudat; doctor and journalist and the founder of the French Gazette, the first newspaper in the country. In this quarter lived all the celebrated printers and en- gravers of the time. During the exposi- the primitive fashion. In another street bordered on one side by houses and on the other by shops will be the “Grenier aux poetes,” an establish- ment such as Francois Villon might ha conducted, where ballads and choru both joyous and satirical, will be recited glasses. The convent of the Jacobins, awa whence will issue Here those who wish to contribute to the vividness of the scene may deride the poor individuals who will submit during certain hours to put their heads through the hole of the pillory. The church that is being erected in “old Paris” will be one of its greatest attrac- tions. It is a reconstruction of Saint Julien des Menetriers, the church of the Jjugglers and wandering musicians con structed by their brotherhood in the thir- teenth century. Until the Revolution this church was the property of these strolling players. Before it they crowned their king, held their court and conducted all manner of revelry. During the exposition all of these characters will be resurrected. Minstrels, dancers, jugglers, players of all musical instruments, will there be con- gregated. It would take much time and space to describe all the attractions of *‘old Par Suffice it to say that every phase of life as it existed through several certuries will there be represented. The old palace of Saint Louis, of Philip le Bel, of Charles VI, of Louls XII, is being reconstructed. Those who are ambitious may mingle in court soclety, for lords and ladies will be numerous in all théir splendor. it S Across the river a turreted rampart, bordered by a deep moat, is conspicuous. Here, after passing through a gate with medieval towers and a drawbridge, the visitor will find himself on the famous ‘“place de la coeur des Miracles.” An ele- gant tribune will be erected, from which CO00000000 ‘William Tell, who shot an from the head of his son with a bow and arrow, and of the wonderful feats of Robin Hood, who roamed the green woods of “Merrie England” and could bring down a wild goose on the wing or split an opponent's arrow with his own. . There are many other curious feats of archery, however, that are not so well known. There was the famous William of Cloudesley, who could split a hazel wand with his shaft from' a distance of 20‘(’33;:;drsr.1uch further back, it is said that some marvelous deeds were performed by the Persians, who boasted descent from the famous hero archer, Perses, and the Scythians, descendants of the great archer, Scythes. It is related that the Persians could dr’ -e one arrow out of the EVERYBODY has heard the story of range, and repeat the feat wfth several successive arrows at their sand butts. They also skot from horseback, hitting a mark while galloping at full speed. One archer would gallop past a butt and send two arrows through one hole in doing so. Homer tells how Penelope promised her many suitors that he only should be favored “tht-, flr‘;t Ulysses' wondrous bow should en And through twelve ringlets the fleet arrow send,” apple | hole it made with another, at 1685 a long |}, 5 o0 ) ' some wild beast was set free | | | | | | tween knights glittering in armor from naturally to the music of the clinking of | bordered with little stalls—wine shops, famous during the Revolution, Is not far | 8ars. religious | bered b ders processions exactly as in the olden days, | | NOtre Dame de Paris.” Here the moun-; At the end of this street, by the side of | tebanks, the charlatans and the trouncres | | the cloister, the pillory will be erected. | Will hold undisputed sway. Famous Archers Who With Flying Arrows Could Rival the Rifle~-Shooting Feats of Buffalo Bill and Dr. Carver. 0000000000000000000000CC0CO0000000000C020000000000200CO tion these industries will be conducted in | | the vast possibilities of his favorite sub- | kill the wild beast that he shot at with | gt i he will enjoy brilllant tournaments be- | permitting the visitor to look down on fantastic fish and antedeluvian monsters. head to foot. Here again he may mingle | A great falry tale t} palace will be. with lords and ladies and gay cavallers . - clothed with scrupulous exactitude in the costumes of the fifteenth century. On the church which is being erected the old mystery plays will be given ex- actly as in 1400. In this inclosure the street des filles dieu will be reproduced, There will be no Midway Plaisance at the Paris Exposition. But one may take a trip around the world and see the rep- resentatives of every nation in all their characteristic attitudes. There will per- haps be nothing more popular at the E position than this tour of the world. The butlding, of enormous proportions, is al- ready nearly completed. It is called a panorama, but deserves a better name to distinguish it from the stereotyped pano- ramas of which we are all so weary. The trip commences with a departure from the port of Marseilles. The light- house, the Chateau d'If, the entire spec- tacle exactly as it exists, pass before the | traveler. He will have every sensation of being on a ship, let us hope minus the seasickness. After several ports he ar- rives at Athens, where he may look to his heart’s content upon the Acropolis, with the Parthenon and other monuments of and attention to the study of glass there- | past glory. With this view there will be in, producing unimaginable results. For | no animated scenes. Why, ° do not know, him glass possesses every possible qual- | unless to suggest the mournful fact that ity. It is as transparent as air or as|the Athens in which we are really in- opaque as metal; it is as delicate as lace | terested there are to-day no living repre- or as substantial as iron. In the lumi- | Sentatives. From Greece the traveler nous palace he has undertaken to show | crosses the Dardanelles and the Bosphor- us to Constantinople, where he mingles with real Turks. From there to Egypt and India, enjoy- ing in the meantime the life of the Suez Canal and the characteristic dances of the | countries. At Ceylon he will witness the | power of thc snake charmers over live cobras, and-in Hindostan the marvelous | feats of jugglery for which the natives are famous. In China and Japan he will | drink tea at the teahouses, promenade | through rice fields and invoke Buddha if the resorts of the vagrants and the beg- This street will be well remen- all readers of Victor Hugo's ATEI e, Vear the Biffel Tower preparations are being made for the construction of a queer palace which will be built from the summit to the ground. The laying of the | foundation will be its finishing touch. | This is the luminous palace Ponsin which will be made entirely of glass. M. Pon- n is an artist who has given much time | stance. It will be constructed of white glass, ornamented with huge jewels fine- ly cut in various colors. Inside there will be divans, exquisite carpets and even beautiful pictures, all made of glass. With these appointments the glassmakers at Venice are now busily occupied. The palace will be crowned by a colossal statue of Hlectricity, which, mounted on colorless glass, will appear to be standing in air without a support. | { ; v v | he ik in the temples. Little Mme. AtnignGebuliantly lghtedisbys dlec | o nthemes in flesh and blood will tricity, one may imagine how bewilder- nt I and R ingly beautiful will be the effect. To in- | Geeanica, Africa_and America he passes tensify it, the palace will be situated on a | hefore reaching Europe again. Arrived in lake, where cleetric fountains will play | Spain he will hear the chink of castanets i V] V] V] and see scores of pretty dal N amd I e i oim Siass fieh and | Clll even witness a real bullfight. g aquatic birds, all\luminous a¢ night with | "Wy, iy e very. wonderful this _trip electricity. Under the palace will be a|around the world, and quite as instruc- wonderful grotto, hung with glass stalac- | tive, say the crifics, as three vears of tites, where the floor will be transparent,l(rnvel. GENEVIEVE GREEN. OQoco000 »ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooonoooooooog Wonderful Hits Made by Men With the Long Bow Q00000000 well knowing that only her husband could | Philip a deadly shaft,” and hit the King display such power, in proof of which, | with it in the eye. when they failed, he re-won his wife, for, | Toximus mentions an archer, bending his elbow: | Menalus, who could discharge t “The whizzing arrow vanished from the | rows at once and hit each of three ob- string, jects he aimed at. He fell at last by the Sung on direct and threaded every ring.” | hands of a general named Romulus, in The Romans were very skillful bowmen, | the army of Magentius, whom he had pre- although they discarded the weapon in | Viously shot and wounded. ) warfare, trusting to the charge and to| The Persian archers, according to Char- hand-to-hand fighting. Many of the Ro- | dian, practiced at a mark placed on top man Emperors were famous archers. It|of a mast tweniy-si® fh&‘flq from 1dhe is said that Domitian would place boys ground. Toward lhlflg £ Dopseian yode, in the circus at a considerable distance | with bent bojh. at ful ',ptej.b. an. 1n£ s from him, and as they held up their | IN§ the mark turned and < ot at d: Dback- hands, with their fingers outspread, he | ¥2rd, 5°m”"m‘e’;tm_‘;n rig] ”L-:n >o¥:~ would ‘send his arrows between them with | times to the left, et bl e Ul such nicety and accuracy of aim that he | Persian bow required a pull of 500 pounds. never inflicted a wound. | " The wicked Emperor Commodus boasted ';:’dh::_mi: a phantom party, papa? Vi as] . that he never missed his aim or failed to | asked Willle. =~ s in | boy,” was the reply. e O e e I ™ When I am marricd?” persisted Willie. i the circus to devour a living criminal | ‘Precisely, my boy,” answered his condemned to die. Just when the furious | father. ‘“When you are married and come animal was springing on his prey the Em- | home late from the club you will occa- peror would strike it dead at the man’s | sionally find something in the nature of a feet. Sometimes one hundred lions were | phantom sitting up—" A let loose at once, in order that he, wit This was the point at which Willie's one hundred arrows, might kill them all. | mother hastily carried him away to bed, With arrows, the heads of which were | declaring that she should not permit him semi-circular, he would sever the necks | to listen to such outrageous exhibitions of of ostriches while at full flight. masculine humor.—Chicago Post. An archer named Aster, seeing Philip R et e AR of Macedon among his troops, is said to | Elephants are fond of gin, but will not have written on an arrow: ‘Aster sends | touch champagne. a single arrow.