The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 19, 1902, Page 10

THE SUNDAY CALL a peculiar way of prais “Pretty story claimed her as its very own. And then she spoke: “You want to see the tower?"’ she asked. “Yes,” 1 mechanically answered, al- though I wanted to see her more than anything else about the place. ““Well, you must register first, you know. Everybody does does that, and besides, I am awfully curious about my guests” names,” she sald. And away went this little mite of a woman with as spry a step as a girl of 18. In a minute she came tugging an immense book into the room and laid it down on the top of the plano with a satisfled “There you are.” “Now, let’s see who will loss their breath first. You go ahead of me, for I may possibly have to push you along.” The very idea of a woman of nearly 80 pushing me along amused me. Probably I would have to pick her up and carry her under one arm. “But, ye gods! Those stairs start out in & bee line for the pearly gates. They are straight up and everlasting. In a few minutes a hand was slipped under my arm and a quiet voice sald: “I told you 80.”" Oh, the irony of those few words. The last flight i3 made of iron and one might almost as well try to climb a pole. The tinlest hols to crawl through, and then you are in the lighthouse proper. The room is round and in the center stands the cylinder that casts its rays twenty-five miles out to sea. “Don’t touch it! In forty-five years I have never put my hands on the glas: “Have you really lived In this hous that length of time?’ I managed to gasp. ““Why, yes, of course. The best years of my life have been spent right here. I came here in ‘56, when I was not quite thirty- one. In all that time I have stayed away from the house just one night. Now, I will leave it to you. Most people claim that women gad, gad all the time. They never stay at home. Don’t you think that I have broken the record?” T wonder if there is another woman on the face of the globe who can say as much. “And have you tended the lamps all that time?” I meekly asked. “Why, of course, every night in all those years, with the exception of three weeks when my last boy was born. I have three other boys and a daughter, you kndw. When they were babies they couldn't help me, and when they were older I couldn’t trust them. They always forget: so, anyhow I put it, I had to climb the stairs just the same. I always felt more comfortable when I had set them all going myself.” “When you set them goin “and when do you do that?"” “Why, at sundown, and again at mid- night. Twice a night the lamps must be trimmed and filled. It is no trick when one is used to it, although it is rather gpooky at 12. Every night I climb the stairs and the shadows make all kinds of weird lights on the walls. The house is all alone and every noise sounds lqud and peculiar. If I go to bed before the last light goes up, I am very apt to im- agine all kinds of horrid things. Why, my own shadow makes grimaces at me and nods and becks to come faster, and then when I hurry it motions to go slower. Did you ever hear of such fool storfes?” Heavens, if I had to climb those stairs my knees would knock until the echoes would mock me. Just imagine that little, ** I repeated, nO Che cever saw riy to your appeal wher or? Bec house g f the far and fine, the S; is the place comes an ey strikes ta Bar- > ip your yhotlyy Sn dhat THE SANTA BARBARA LIGHT HOUSE: eepy old town has deeds. near Invariably will = as good as Grandma W old lady, 76 years of age, making nightly pilgrimages. Think of being all alone and no neighbor to call upon. Only the ledge of geraniums and the roses to talk to. Wouldn't you see spooks? daily laps at its teet. Mrs. Willlams opened the door in re- sponse to my knock. She is such a little old lady that I immediately thought of all kinds of fairy tales and wondered which s climbed the four flights of winding stairs twice a da nce ’56. Think of it and marv Three hundred and sixty-five days, twice a day for forty- five years. Count up how many steps that makes if you like, but you would better on the very edge of the ocean stands a take a day off when you do it. little white house. It is very much alone; And in that long stretch of time she has in fact, the little old lady who calls it had but one night off for vacation. home is just about all it has to look at Three miles out of Santa Barbara and” excepting the great expanse of water that Williams, or *“grandma,” as she arly known about those parts Though his bark Yet it shall be tempest t And of a truth her bark is ‘“tempest to and has always been, but it will prove strong enough for her as long as she will have need of it. When she was a girl her home was in bleak Massachusetts. Hearing only the best and sunnlest things of California, she and her husband made the trip out here and left all that was dear to them. One thing after another went wrong, un- til her husband tried to forget all his sorrows in drink. In forgetting them, he also forgot his wife and baby. Then the energetic little lady showed what she was made of. The lighthouse position came their way and she at it as a drowning person would at & straw. And all these years it has proved her salvation. Every night excepting three weeks she has dragged herself up those winding stalrs. When sickness, sorrow or dis- tress presented itself she pushed it aside and went blindly on. While she toiled nightly to win the daily bread, her hus- band traveled dally to spend it. Then came a time when she found her- self all alone. The children married and her husband dfed. But desert the light- house? Never. Or, at least, not as long she could reach the lamp. ..“Don‘t you think It about time for the Government to pension you?" I asked. “Indeed, no. Why on earth should the Government pension me? It has pald me well all these years and there cer- tainly no obligation on its s that I can see. Why, I am plenty strong enough to earn my own living for many a day to come. Don’t look like it? Ane now, young lady, I'll tell you a secret. 1 do not know what medicine is. I hlv.' been too busy all my life long to make its acquaintance, and, really, I am not sorry, for now I am healthy and I prob- ably should not have been.” No nervous prostration for her. No change of climate to the dry mountain alr. Plenty of work and fresh air are what she advocates. I wonder if mor people tried her remedy how the doctors would fare? I rather fancy their familles would not visit Europe in such flocks. “See all the steps I have to keep clean. That takes up several hours every day. And I do not sweep them either. Each and every one has to be wiped with a cloth to keep the dust from golng near the lamp.” Steps, steps, steps. I tried my mother's favorite scheme of running my finger along the articles dusted. It mever failed with her, and I fancied it wouldn't fail with me. But it did. Try as hard as I could, no dust rewarded my labor. Every- thing in that nouse was immaculate. “Will you pardon me if I go and see about my dinner? The men who are tending to my barley eat here, as it takes too long to go home. 1 will not be away long. Will you amuse yourself?” my hos- tess asked. 1 folowed her into the kitchen. The potatoes were bolling as though bent on doing _their best for her and the roast turned its brown face toward her wtih the best intention possibie. With the deftness of a girl, and a capable one at that, she whisked dishes, knives and forks out and the table was set in no time. “You see, living by myself, I know just is. 1 where eve find thing in t well as [ can now. advantages, has it not ingly. T couldn’t dispute her. In wouldn’t dare even think when she wa about. Any woman who has had a much experience and who knows life as thoroughly as she does ought to have all the hats fu the country off to her. ““There really isn’t very much more to see,” she sald as she gave the biscuits a last pat. Nothing but my garden, and it does not look its best now on account of the frost. But see that little hill over there. In all the years I have been on the coast we have had only one accident that_amounted to anything. The Pride of the Sea came ashore one perfectly clear night. She was lost. The people around here are kind enough to say it is because this light shines so far out to sea that all has gone so well. And now it is almost dinner time. Won't you stay and dine with me?” she asked as she gathered a handful of flowers to brightea solitude has its * she asked smil- I e. Oh, yves. the camera. Yo picture, do you? ~Fpo n Well, please get way down in that corner. Pletures look betrn at o distance at my time of life." As rled away toward t direction. One f. W remarked, e, but I'm hungry and th 2 fellow answered, “So am I, but ‘ufi I(:::)wr that grandma will have lots to eat and something mighty good at that.” So Mrs. Williams is noted lighthouse tender, a marvel of ‘the oldest and endurance and a chef. El‘\.:ws(ancy people on the verge of % can sho’;agi proud a record? How many people can be held up as a bright and shini ample of all that is good and noble? - Hasw many of us can show as proud. a record g8 _that little Santa Barbara lighthouse Probably not one of us. MADGE MOORM.