The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 4, 1899, Page 17

THANK ( HIS Is only a ¢ SHE-1S 1N SON QUENTIN | SAID THE EX-CONVieT ! tter from a sther whose undying ite and hour of this t till spared to us. ha ieved y were dead he would some find your whi daisies that ou true. that God t bring®ig my *‘bat 1 ever thank God enough t ed him, even tho r ther would find you i come to ¢ YOUR LOVING mother to mi love outlived the m came I was WiE s very afrald to day owr rted little past. 1 do ure—that and wrongs r, for having minutes gate 1-t n Quentin to where May God MOTHER. guided girl: from disappointments vears she waited, hoped and prayed for the Then the mother heard that she was dead the history of a mother’s love, that did not fal of the San Quentin prison, Where she discovered her ol -.Wfl || (! tl "‘r ' \| I } I}: 1‘““ prodigal's ter at daughter was confined but glorified itse forzive Tt v Just a mother's changeless love. She co t San Quentir but she did ail she wrote the abov o her impris- oned wayward And that letter has been folded, crumpled and tear-stained, as if with frequent readings; but what it mear ceived it is told to her pillow sed the to the beneath which it rests penitent bosom under voman who re- night, and t's stripes, ovingly a cor into which it is tucked by day This letter is 1 and prayed over every r ind forms the last 1 n the chain of tangled lives to unite the great generous heart of a mother to her wayward daughter A Tale of Mother’s Love. It is a story of love ¢ de—ambition, despair, neglect, wrong, imprisonment, discovery, forgiveness, repentance and a second love. It is as true as truth and the last scene of this drama in real life is set within the walls of San Quentin, where two souls, who traveled the bewildering by-ways of th at last entered the gates to pay the penalty of the It is a tale of lost love prison walls. A story of how “Cupid” triumphed over bolts and bars under the survefllance of turnkey and guard. And of how, even in this eriminal quarantine, where love's shut out and strife’s shut in, a billet dousx, wrapped in tinfoil and tossed over the prison wall, changed the whole prospect of four lives. prison anc ve that was found within the In the woman's ward at San Quentin a happy prisoner is count- ing time by the minutes to her day of freedom, just a few weeks hence; the day that will see her united to her mother and child, who have mourned her as dead all these twelve silent years. Her name is Mrs. Jennie Hastings, and she has nearly finished her term of two and a half years for grand larceny. And her prison lover, who has been discharged and is impatiently waiting to marry her? He was known in San Quentin merely by his number, 14,604; but his name is S Cook, and his sentence of twelve years for robbery terminated only two months since. And thereby hangs this tale. It is a genuine romance of the wild West kind and began nearly seventeen years ago on a ranch near Santa Monica. It began at the altar, when Jennie, the rancher's only daughter, plighted her vows with the man whose name she still bears. The happy bride was as talented as she was pretty, and .two years of city life had added much to her charm of manner: but, alas, two vears had done even more, for it filled her home with admirers, Who predicted for her a wonderful stage career. But in two years Hastings had deserted her and she was left with a wee, helpless baby girl, who instead of a blessing proved only a burden to the now thoroughly ambitious woman, who from the stage had determined to win the plaudits of the world. So she carried the child back to the old ranch home that she had left but two short years before. She remained with her mother until Baby Frances was one year old and then she returned to San Franciscq, filled with the hope of an earnest heart and unsophisticated ways. But where were the friends who had encouraged her, the memory of whose words still rang sweetly upon her ear? She found them now strangely silent. They had only praised her while she entertained them. This also she remembered. The Path to the Penitentiary. One day she awoke to the fact that her purse was empty and that her ‘promise of a theatrical engagement, like the rainbow’s pot of g0ld, was ever just shead. The first thing her friends did was 2y o2 - i) FOR TWELVE YEARS THE WOMAN WAS GIVEN UP FOR DEAD EY HER FAMILY, WAS COURTED BY A PRISONER WHO THREW LOVE LETTERS OVER THE PRISON WALL, AND THEN WAS RESTORED TO HER FAMILY LY A CHAIN OF CHANCES RIVALING ANYTHING OF ITS KIND IN THE WORLD OF FICT.ON. to adv not one, of all she had known, even cared that her heart was break- ing for a word of comfort Her spirit was crushed, 80 back to the old folk the place that she was mother, but the y they ceased word came t The tidings were s Jennie was dead, but the other da sorrowing mother, and oh, how jeal proteeting love What s the.true st Over this broad land tions and troubles. Youth v her pride arose. She would never d fought and fought bravely for She continued to write home to s grew wider and wider apart. ks and months passed by and 1s dead 1t from a hospital in a far-off Eastern town. - was at heme to cheer the Iy she was guarded with her but until she I of the supposed d led daughter? f the world crowded her at to devic she stood alone with her ne the Quentin. She stood alone, would ne her mother with her life of s knew who v was; she simply bore a number and was convicted of a crime for which she was paying the penalty. e 6 the woman's artmen ward a me; This me. One convict g day there « T nto b from the ¢ Trusty Cook. Jennie H s They simply stood ste till It was a case of love at first si it was the only spark of divine hope that had ever come into her troubled life. There was never much chance for conversation because Prisoner yned by the watchful guard, but a nod and ufficient and served to strengthen the bond of sym- the rs closer day by day. But they to commun without being detected, as ingenious found means s will prisoner Sccret Correspondence in the Prison. ritten previously, and exchanged while letters, s turnec the guard's t High noon was the unusual hour chosen by them for their court- ship. At that hour the matron went to lunch. On either side of the high separating prison wall they wrote their letters, then wrapping them in tinfoil they tossed them over; to be caught, unwrapped and read by the lover on either side. This was the way they courted each day until they were dis- covered. It s a wooing whe S estive of martial times; the bombardment was real and the surrender mutual. Meanwhile they had become engaged and the wedding day was set for the early fall, In a few wee Jennie Hastings will be free. Two months ago Convict 's term of twelve years expired. He passed from the prison’s hateful shadow with far less joy than he had measured would be his, years before, because he was leaving his sweetheart behind. Cook's & iy e Now comes the strangest and most dramatic part of the whole story, and it all came through the discharged convict trying to get work and prepare a home for his bride against the day when she also would be discharged from San Quentin. The people whom Cook had known at the time of his.arrest no longer trusted him. Who would employ a convict? There was but one thing to do; he would go to some place where he was unknown and begin fife all over again. After repeated efforts to obtain work and failing utterly he mounted his wheel and started for Southern California. He had something to live for now. He would work and save and make a home for his promised wife. He stopped at every ranch on his way to inquire for work and he applied at every town through which he passed. At every turn he was informed that ranchers were laying oft their men and merchants were discharging their clerks. Then Fate, with irresistible purpose, guided his steps aright. She led him straight to the hearth of Jennfe Hastings’ home. Straight to the mother who believed her daughter was d He had no idea it was the home of his promised bride, and they, of course, had no suspicion that he was an ex-convict and had met the supposed dead daughter. Strange Caper of Fate. With them the ex-convict found rest from his travels, employ- ment and most of all—a blessing denied him for many years—a home. It was a home of peace, and to the man who had rested uneasily from the jutemill labor, it was like a glimpse of Paradise. The saint-like face of the grandmother and the innocent prattle of Frances, the girl, hallowed the hours after work and slowly but surely softened his nature. He had been in this home but two weeks, when one night, after the chores were done, Frances whispered in her grandmother’s ear: “Let us ask the new man into the parlor; he looks so hungry for sympathy. Perhaps he would like to hear me play and sing.” “Yes, yes,” sanctioned the grandmother. “Who knows what his ot in life has been? Ask him in, my child.”™ ‘When the stranger entered the parlor that evening his roving eyes lighted on a portrait on the wall. Under his breath he said: “Jennie! What is she to them?"” The brother noted his look of recognition and said: met my sister! Where?” It was a question of man to man. “Yes, where?” echoed the anxious, white-haired mother. “You have se her to get a place as nurse, or else take plain sewing, and VHEIR THETHOD oF FoieatRPARARNCE “Then you do not know?” was all that he could say, in his-per. plexity; for he didn’'t know how much they were acquainted with her life; didn’t know how much the convict daughter might want to keep from them; didn't even know that they believed her to be dead. “One moment,” dead? Is she livin Slowly the an fn San Quentin! there, too!" All of the motherhood in the gray-haired woman spoke and she sank to her knees and sobbed: “Great God, I thank thee for sparing her. life . e ox pleaded the mother. 11 me, I am prepared for the worst.” as if drawn against his will: “She s samé breath he added: "I have been fsn’t she really Very early the next morning Jennie Hastings’' brother started for San Quentin; there might be some mistake after all, the family thought, and he would be able to learn the truth. The Telegram Told the Truth. On the following day the,telegraph wire ticked out the glad tidings to the anxious mother: “It is our Jennie; we have found her at last.” | That night, when all had gone to sleep, Frances crept from her bed and wrote a letter to the mother who had abandoned her so long ago, and it read: My Datling Mamma: We are so happy that you will be with us soon. The house seems like a prayer meeting all day long, and grand- ma’s face is beautiful to see. ‘) Now, do be good, dear mamma, and maybe the Warden will let you out before your time. I wondersif he would if 1 would write and k him to let you come? If you think it wili mak difference I will write and tell him that you int. he will 1 go. 1 will tell him w t he will do most anythi ; not big enough to remember what my you went ‘aw: little mother looked like at all. We are all going to love you so much. Poor Mr. Cook wipes his eyes whenever he 100ks at grandma’s radiant face, and she says we must love him for telling us of you, and that we can belp to make him good by our prayers and kindness. Do write to me at onée, mamma, and tell me if you think I had better write to the Wardgn. Your loving daughter, =~ FRANCES. H . . The woman of the first romance within the walls of San Quentin {s counting the minutes to the day of her freedom. And the man who has had a respite of‘two short months from his tragedy of years looks forward to that day in September when he will be united to the woman he loves. ANNABEL LEE,