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: B THE SUNDAY CALL. Some Weird Tales the [Mep Have to Tell. ¥ “hoodoos.” Su- s w p skirts and e bonne ngs to the past We of ex- te clat- sir, though an Buperstition is skeleton In man's men- tal closet, tha ock The r ds jumped the track on the Alameda narTow gauge tres- tes. BEngineer George F s and Fire- man J. L. H er mw lously escaped with only & scalding. Their names werse abded the 1t e 1's victims, which reads May 22, 188K John Hickey, fire- Iman Maimed: PAward L. Baldwin, enm- igineer. Jenvary 3, I8 lled: Henry Jonmas, mngineer; Bdward Colson, fireman May 1. 190—Scalded: George F. Sykes, mogineer: J. L. Hoover, fireman Is 13 & “hoodoo” e There are five ot Mister engines of N these engines can be =1l well-behaved engines that have never ®iven the slightest tro are akin detall to No. k a flaw in the con- Btruction of Thoroughly competent engineers and Biremen were handling her each time she Sumped the ralls. It would be impossible Bo atta est blame to the men. ~ the employes e track was in r engines choo- st before 18 went e 15 jumped the track en- N t on their think. n excuse for her. They >Sing, scalding tor- ‘to per name, She was so badly shattered ana i their homes, only to t tw ght the engine would find doo a dishonored grave in the § up the raliroad ¢ 000 was spent repairing the “Hoo- ' confess any fear of the H00d00. However, pinioneq, Keeping nim & Writmmg priSoner ne ever gave a tho there were false notes in their asserted in the hissing caldron. “For God's sake, he kept it quiet. Or 1k pile. But Twice she had jumped the track for no fearlessness of Hoodoo engine 19. The old man, get me cut,” he whispered to ordered to take an ex moany decreed otherwise. apparent cause. but the men would not railroad company is not given to consult- Sykes. Sykes bent over him and clasped set Park I ing an employe's preferences, and the his hand. The hot flesh peeled off to the Drumm, a rs men who were detailed to the “Hoodoo” bone and the sickening odor of burnt carrying a bei did their duty without complaint. It Is flesh made him reel. Only for a second rode in the not written In the history of the “Ho0odoo™ he hesitated, and then bent his huge frame was to be mas gned to sk of extricating Colson. Sud- “We happen a pair of hands p him asid ma w gauge depot, Sykes train 8o it was that George Sykes took charge (' ine healer,” of her last month. There were pecple sajd the man, ands Wil take ; s who shook thei | heads when they heard away his pains There were rea- L rly avoid hands,"” 1t to get his leg out kes. *T When “Hoodoo' 4 > Svkes w th "¢ su I Colson. Svkes w i il y reached them throt /] blocked the way - extricated than N families of t ad men nd Colson we very popul * that had caused timely death was roundly cursed had left a scanty sum to keep the from his household door, Colson stood between her b vation, Alameda put its pocket ready to help Mrs. C was too proud to accept the from our burr the e t our “Mrs. Colson always said I'd bs the next man for the ‘Hoodoo,” but I guess the old ‘H n't do her blamed There's enough of to have an- other only for st subscription. She has earned a herself and child iren by bending over the e early and late. Mrs. Colson is one of the few who con- ed that she believes Engine 19 is hoo- dooed. ‘“‘George Sykes will be the next vie- tim of the Hoodoo,” Mrs. Colson has always said. And she insisted on it, " though the months winged by and ern Alameda Sykes was doing duty on another en- Pe reall b gine. When Sykes was put on Hoodoo 19, If TRAGIC LIFE OF MUNKAQSY. THE QELESRATED PAINTER. LIVED TO DIE IN A MADHOUSE. 17 T was nearly all fight from the very kacs was whers he was born. So he But ho‘ izt ymm‘xd aind "ehr.v lnRX- : e : 3 bge g se perienced, and the world is such a bf is over mow. Poor i lis unde, Andbecause lace. He went hers and thore dol r s | ¥ moved z to make a living of it and harely suc- o little but tragedy in and because the aunt ceojed. He worked as servant for a while T fe of his. He was hun- ial he moved back to and proudly claimed that he was a good o S Sl So between denfals and one. But When one’s heart keeps crying 5 sl he spent some long, sorry Out to make pictures, pictures, pictures— end £ he happ! P coop g vod longest _ The gloom of the world crept into his re-“for Mitle boy yee work and was so dark that _the sun could > sorry. He was appren- ¢ ghine in it. “The Last Day of a Gons andy he cherished gemned Prisoner” is all tragedy, cruel left from planks and such as only a master could have ne to make sketches on. €d. The pure white ray of light It in life if they the ticed to & carpen smooth bits of He will be bu- ree years since he asylum. He was the comfort that 1 been achieved at w years in which to me roke of pa- rush to be lald boded day after » gave way. hed middle age. ped in. Then came a few years in the studios which he has to see, then the rknees. Perhaps it was all because of that sad little boy life of his. He was not quite ears old when he was left an orphan, ¥hat was back in Hungary—near e celebrated painter, dled carried them He always liked best to make people, and ed the stern uncle and appish aunt and vented some of his i in that way. But likely enough did not make bitter caricatures of them, after all, for he was big of heart, 2d éven when he was so young he may ve known that they meant well enough but were simply some of the blundering people of this world who %o not under- stand. B Gny rate, he chose to get away from them as soon as he oould. From accounts one would judge that she was the kind of aunt who had wood to be chopped the instant Michael slipped away to his dim little room for a few minutes' gloat over some colored print that he had saved pen- nies to buy. Her high-pitched voice shrills through our imagination in its cry of “Michael! Michael Lieb! Are you wasting time again? When there's water to be carried and the cow to be fed! Mi- chael, you little trouble!” We can guess that she said this and wp can guess why he started out with just five florins Jing- ling in his trousers pocket. Any adven- ture was better than to live with the wood and the water and the cow shriek- ing through his ears. fe he ondering little child casts upon ure serves only to deepen the »f the doomed ‘man. Munkacsy was consistently a realist. There had been no chance for much out- side of so-called realism in his life, and he painted what he knew. The bright side gf realism is just as true, but he did not nd it. There was one phase of the man that his friends knew when he was a student at Dusseldorf. It might have passed for merriment or joy even to the casual ob- server. But if was a mad, defiant kind of joy; it led him to spend money in a reckless way and to be crazily gay at stu. dent gatherings in a manner which said 'l have been cheated out of happiness ail these vears, and now I will get even withs life at last.” But somehow life seemed always to have the upgar hand. The years of prosperity granted made the end more fear ul by contrast. It 100ks as if she meant it. As if she let him taste hagplne!!. then snatched it away and laughed amd sald, “I let you feel all the joy of palnting sc f;o“ might suffer the more when your and lost its power.” ‘Whether it paid—he knew. MILTON —4——*’—————“ M) N o)== ) B —