The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 10, 1899, Page 22

.rs 2g0 there York wi at was © -r german he has led for It and Mrs. Long Branch and Newport so- its core—was part of the core, How many times we would run éown to the Branch—it was a delight- ful sail. Baratoga I cared little for, but Mewport was charming—charming! “What was one to do?” he continued, “with po meny fair ones to admire and lovo—how oould one choose? The re- #ult—] am unmarried.” A%, but tbat wes a little surfuce $enssniry, benesth lay the @ageiy of be S SNED T A i T T B T man’s eventful lifs, I could see the tnask and read the turmoil yes! Bohemlans, smile that ac- se did not make it a Bohemian hed ok = ns in Bohemia e little aff nd which is ¢ The em per- e all the t deal for 1 and social rreat friends, ake when he kes to his here amie'— derstand—to Josephine Mans- man she was, the most ul woman of ng her picture in the r day recalled it all so vividly Vell, Fisk hecame jealous—vary much so—and he had no cause to grow less so as time passed. Finally he had his opvnortunity for revenge. He had Stokes arrested suddenly one morning when he could get no baif for some sup- posedly dishonest commercial transac- tion. Three of us, I do not g the names, but they are leading lights in commercial and roclal New York to- day, were going Into Delmonico’s that morning, when we were accosted with “Have vou heard the news? The nephew of the great restaurateur, by the wav was the one to ask us. ‘No,'we said, ‘what {8 {t?" ‘Stokes is In jail!’ ome of Fisk's dolngs then,’ we re- plied. “Well, that morning we all went down to commiserate with poor Stokes and when we reached there found Jo- sephins Mansfleld already there. Ehe was,” hs paused and smiled, “Ah, well, I will not say ! T Wall, pardon me, eitting his lap. “Btol ibe remark them even Wi Fiad, 7] R = 2 : M PRIDICE box that was on i W out two ing a re- o as all opportun s will. tokes preceded Fisk to the hotel t him at the head of the stairs was coming up. [ saw him and knew. ‘Don’t shoot,’ EBtokes did not act on his adv but shot with fatal accuracy. Josephine, & very pronounced a magnificent establish- ment, beautiful. I had the—well flege of saving the life of one K ladies &t Long Branch. She went be- yond her depth and was mnot a suffl- clently expert swimmer to battle with the waves. Being near at the time and someth! 1 was able to g her e. k was very grateful and said—but we will let that pa 2 It is simply impossible to give an idea of this man's charming manne versation. The refined language, perfectly turned little French phrases end expressions, and his gracious and deferential air of courtesy showing the polished gentleman in every word and gestufe. And such he was and is. The gon of one of the first families of England he was educated at Wesley, in Sheflield, Yorkshire, and is a fellow of that col- lefa. t was about this time that his father, an extensive steel manufacturer, con- ferred with Besscmer for the purpose of gliving theories for a new and perfected method of manufacturing stee.. It is an absolute but hitherto unknown fact that the process which made Bessemer famous was mnot his own idea, but bought from another and this other the tather of the man now among the poor dependents of a charity holpltfi. ‘Besgemer, my father and severzl noted men were dining together,” te tell it es the "Prince” gave it. “My fother turned to Esssamer with the re- R R * _ RV 7 R 244 something to the perfection of the process. Bessemer pald men in general and inventors in particular the flatter- ing compliment of saying that no one could surpass his knowledge of this subject. To which my father replied t he would like to continue the sub- ect with him later in the evening. After dinner Bessemer and he had a quiet conference, when my father, told emer there was one great fea- @ which he (Bessemer) had over- looked and which would be the perfect- ing point of the process, namely: an increase of temperature by the means which he (my father) only knew. “'And that?" sald Bessemer. ““That requires & quid pro que,’ re- plled my father. “And what might that quid pro quo be? asked Bessemer. “‘That I shall be sole representative of the interest in the States. “To this Bessemer agreed as a fore- gone conclusion—and it was then my father revealed- the process, which has :’nnde steel what it has been and is to- ay." The first steel rails for the New York Central to the amount of a milljon and more dollars’ worth were sold to the Vanderbiits by this man’s father, and such men as the Rothschilds and the first men of England were his aaso- elates and friends. ‘With more money than Jarobnbly was best for him the "Prince™ finished his {lage career and began to “sse life” in fl--mmm—m-— ’ ter of the plot aronnd which the story of his life is woven. It was the usual “woman In the case”—a woman of highest moclal standing and wealth, young, beautiful but—ige wife of an- other—a man of title and limitless wealth, but tottering with age. Time might have righted all things for this woman and her lover and the datter’s story been totally different from what it s, had the “Prince” not had a brother jealous-.of the father’s love for this younger scion of the house. An undercurrent of scandal doubtless stirred London society while it held its breath and awaited developments— but. it was the brother who made it ap- parent to the father that his son had disgraced the family, that it was due their sacred honor to turn him from house and home. : Four hours were glven him to leave— three of the four were spent with his “chere amie” and plans successn{’lly made for a meeting in the States—but not successfully carried out. The usual discovery acene and seven days' ex- citement—then it all died out and the hero of the tale—well, life hag & varied assortment of gides and some must see them all. ‘With & generous income from the home estate, hia reward of merit for kn:g]in‘ away, and an easy as well as highly remunerative position with one of the largest houses in the city, he be- '.il to taste )x‘wfl:ork 1fe. ndsome, ating, polis of Ptus bioed and large income udh:alhu- aplos of history t2 maka the whole im- o il teresting, he hadn't the slightest trou- ble in stepping into the innermost se- clusion of New York's extra-extra. Bohem!an, soclety .leader, good fel- low, there was nothing New York had to offer that he did not enjoy. It was he who, when the real Prince of Wales visited this country, intro- duced the New York society belles to him at the great ball given in his honor at the Academy of Music. Or to give it as Mr. Congreve told it in his grace- fully reminiscent way—and Mr. Con- greve lingers over his reminiscences with an alr of gentle tenderness and in- terested absorption that {8 very pleas- ant to watch: “It was at this magnificent reception and ball—for it was truly magnificent, the greatest beauty and wealth of New York were there—I chanced to be sur- younded by a gay company of debu- tantes and fair ones—you will pardon the seeming egotism—I said to them, ‘Come, we will be introduced to mon Prince.’ So together we made our way to where the Prince was standing. Pre- senting myself first to the Duke of Newcastle, whom I knew and who was traveling with the Prince, really his chaperon, the Prince being very young at the time—I gaid to him by way of compliment, ‘I wish to present to you some of ‘“e falr buda that grow on American sofl. _*‘Ah/’ the Duke said, including them all in his admiring glance and bow, “Such konor !a not for me; a greater s @ue vuch beauty and loveliness—we will pracend them o the Prinoa’ » A SR #Anq turning to the Prince he sal “r. Congreve W d prove to yo what just % has to be ths most envied of nations.” “Ah, but the were as beautiful women &s one could find the world r the Prince said to me with him for a few mo- e evening that he had harm and loveliness— seen g th of travel,” Judge Eme mett—yeu of him?—and {ed a german of & hurdred couples at the scean House, Newport, when ger- mans firat came in vogue. “Many a german I led for Mrs. Van- derbilt—but she 1 as a good friend—she always -alled me by mv tian name, Walter, and I came and went freely at her home. “It was at Mrs. Vanderbilt's I first et and admired Elizabeth Clark, ,fibblo Clark as she was more familiar- v known. She was beautiful, beauti- ful! Many and many gay times Miss Clark and I had together—germans, balis, dinners. I became an intimate et her home and we—sweethearts. Bug her nwother grew ill and finally died. Afterward I noticed her sadness, that pecmed something more than her moth- er's death. Finally I questioned her end asked that I might end her troubles by sharing them—that we should marry. “She threw herself into my arms sob- ding—how well I remember that day— every detall, the room, she so beautiful and . lovable— Walter,” she said, ‘I promised mother on her deathbed I would marry Mr. Bradford and I can- not break my promise—and she did not!” he pause that followed was un- broken—it was like standing by a grave where words are useless, uncalled for, for whatever Mr. Congreve's life may have had of wrong, there at least bhe worshiped s at a shrine. “Mr. Bradford? he was also a great {end of the family—old enocugh to be er father. Ehe was unhappy, poor frl. Either Mr. Bradford knew of her promise to her mother and realized the real cause of her unhappiness, or he comprehended nothing, for many times after their marriage I was Libbie's es- cort to balls until once hs himself ssked me to escort his wife to a ger- man. “+« Bradford,’ T said, ‘T will lead the erman with your wife, will dance with ger, but don’t you think you had better take her yourself now? “Ie took the hint, I cared enough te —but that is en passant. TLong Branch was gay, Newport de- lghtful, but it at Staten Island that perhaps ¥ had the mest truly pleasant time. You have heard of Mme. ESonntag, the famous sin Countesse &l Rosi? friend. And sing! ah, but she eing! She- had a cottage at Staten I d. It was a colony of talent—Ma- reski, the leader of grand opera, and others had cottages there only a short distance frem Commodore Vanderbilt's place.” The father and son often met and were reconciled and the father's love and advice often kept him from foily, but as he himself worded it: “I needed & mother's love—a mother's gentle in- fluence—if 1 had had that I might not have been the Bohemian and wanderer I have been.” But the end of gay New York came at last. “I was in the cricket field one day, to- gether with Lester Wallack, the actor— you know the name,—Lord F— and oth- ers, when a message came to me to come at once to England, my father was dying. I boarded the first steamar and reached home just in father was paralyzed, unable but he seemed struggling to say some- thing to me—but he pever did.” The father dead, the older son.im g:wcr, the annulty cut off, California ckoned invitingly as & new and un- tried field—but little by little com- menced the beginning of the end. With loss of hope, loss of ambition and self- respect the curtain will ring down scine day and this iittle pl'u-yau over, 4