The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 23, 1903, Page 5

it 1s not likely that she has forgotten her expe- rience iIn a West In- dan cave YWhen Sir Henry was Governor of Ja- maica, & few years ago. Lady Blake was the scer n Jove with beaut island as her husband was She spent most of he ungle, exploring with her perty wonderful caverns with which the colony is quaintly enriche One afternoon her untiess ladyship was lowersd down & nk hol in the recesses of & cave near S When, after wild sigo bauled up her womanship w urbed. At the bottom t Lady Blake bad discovered skelotons, all with their bea tn. When her ladyship recovered he suficiently to make Investiga earthed the story of Early in the eightee: peared, & Scotsman gh‘Efifl § hrut 2 Tn these Zays the Island of Jamalca, Test Indies, was the dumping ground for every scapegrace son and ne’er-do- weel disowned by indignant parents. The home of former pirates was also a harbor of refuge for criminals from the other sidewalks of life. Hutchison escaped to Jamaica, where he bought a tract of land near Pedro, St. Ann. There he built a residence, which in the bitterness of his heart he named Edinburgh Castle. The house had a conning tower with 1ttle windows and was built on the sum- mit of a ridge commanding a view of the country for miles around. Here the mur- er lived with & number of brutal ne- es, all of whom were enslaved to their criminal vows. 1 never worked, never read seldom ate or siept, it is said. is days In the conning. tower, h a powerful telescope scanning the orange ‘and pimento groves that stretched the vista of & man-cursed para- en a traveler hove in sight this us man dispatched a negro slave horseback with a pressing invitation come and dine at “Edinburgh Castle”— Why, spend a v days or so. There was nothing suspicious about this 3 en to this day Jamaica is nous for its hospitality. Not even an utter stranger need feel any hesitation accepting such an invita- n urged if pressed by refusal meant a great deal to the invited It was parallel with the old nur- yme: Wil you walk into my parlor Bald the spider to the fiy. When the fly accepted the spider d1d the rest. For the “rest” Hutchison's mem- ory is justly notorious to-day. The murderer's guests were at first charmed by their host's irreproachable courtesy. His wines were of the finest quality and he was most generous with them, although he personally did not im- bibe over-freely. His slaves came to the table and vanished at a gesture of his hand. Certainly it was a most orderly house in this respect. Strange to say, there was never more than one guest in the castle at a time. To this day it is said, “They were come and gone rapidly.” “They treat me badly,” Hutchison used to say, with a queer smile. “They know I love to have them visit me, and I am al- ways sorry 1 could not keep them longer.” It was the desire of this blood- thirsty tiger to have the pleasure of kill- ing his victims over again. Hutchison would award the finest room in the castle to the passing guest and the household would geemingly retire. But in the night the door leading to the con- ning tower would open and a ray of starlight reveal the demonlacal face of the betrayed girl's brother. “Against all men!” he would mutter and steal into his guest's room. The explosion of a Horse pistol was the sig- nal for several stalwart slaves to drag the victim's body to a cave near the house. In this cave no less than thirty bodles HOME TETHER By A. S. Richardson. er coughed ob- , and Marga- turned to- him impatiently. “Just some fruit and coffee for dessert.” The walter picked up the plate holding an un- HD walt te entree. “Why are we stopping here so long' “Freight train off de track shead, ma'em, but de wreckin' crew's heah, ma’am s Ashton picked up the menu, read dealy and laid it down egaln. er glance traveled back to the pan- spread beyond ine dining car's It wes the residence district of e pretty village, with yellow and white and gray and white cottages placed at a discreet & epart, with well kept g gardens in between. lose to the crossing where the train it abse T oram window. Y imitation col- ored glass windowe. ven at this dip- tance Margaret recognized the material se windows. Th had received es wh she was in the altar gulld Paul's. waiter arrived she selected some whi orate care. When she 1 boy came scampering down h her dessert and grapes with elab- oked up again a the drive which divided two of the cottage homes. He swung a baseball bat in signal to an- other youngster emerging from another yard homes had barns and chicken the rear and the boys wore Bot have had their tea and have dons their chores,” thought Miss Ashton, stir- ring her coffee slowly, “and by and by sume ope will call them both in and pull down the shades.” A woman across the back yard of the bouse nesrest the tracks, carrying something under her apron. She disap- peared in the kitchen dooryay of the next house, then reappeared, empty-handed, end ran back to her own home. “She had borrowed somethin no @oubt.” said Miss Ashton to herself, “per- haps she had & little tea this afternoon. We siways borrowed things from the Marsdens when we had teas.” She pushed aside her coffes cup, lald & bill on the silver tray which the walter offered, and left the car. Her chalr was e drawing-room car forward. She herself looking straight into the ard of & trim little cottage. A young n sat on the step of the porch, a tor” thrown over bher shoulders. ve foot of the step ttood another holding & restiess baby in her erms. The two women were so earnestly engaged in conversation that they did not notice how the baby was stripping young buds c orch vine. “Goss * murmured Miss Ashton. £he knew the narrow life only too well. Ehe had run away from it years before. Ehe wanted to go where your next door not count the skirts and where no one r did ehown you a few courtesies you were bound to be engaged to him. She swung her chalr impatiently, and her glance fell once more on the church. The sun was setting and two people were walking up the narrow flagged path. The man pulled out a key, threw open the church door and they both passed in. He @id not look like s minister. He was something of an athlete and had an alért eir. A moment later he was opening the windows. The girl was not in sight, but Margaret was certain that she was put- ting flowers in the vase at the pulpit. “He's & leader in the church, no doubt. A man must giways be at the head of something,” she thought. “And Miss De- mure will be eitting down in the amen corner soon, watching him with adoring eye: because the whole congregation What a narrow set these people In small towns were! Here was a train stalled in their midst, bearing men of millions, wo- men who had traveled at home and abroad, Interests that might affect the world of trade, and they did not stop so much &s to inquire into the trouble. They were so small, so narrow, so self-ab- sorbed! At last the train moved with great, heaving strain on wheels and springs. Margaret gave one more glance at the hurch. The lights were ablaze, and the young man was standing in front of the congregation, & book in his hand. The girl was at the organ, Margaret leaned back and closed her ey She saw another church, another man—and herself. Then she turned her thoughts resolutely into other channels. Ehe glanced down at her bag. She knew the papers in that bag meant insurance policiéd for thousands, all written by her- self. She had stepped In where other agents feared to tread and had secured business. She was going back to New York and the approval of her superiors. Ehe would be glad to shut herseif in her private office and take up her accumu- lated correspondence. She must have a new cabinet ordered for that empty cor- ner of her office. The papers to be flled in her department were Increasing. 1l TN AU RNE S iy Ehe gave her number to the cabman and was whisked off into the glare of Br way's lights. By and by they rned into & qulet side street. She mounted the steps leading to a dim, brownstone apartment house, shook out her keys and hurried to her room. There were no matches and she rang the bell impatiently. The mald apologized end brought in clean towels. ““We weren't expecting you till to-mor- row, Miss Ashton,” she remarked with & furtive flirt of her towel across the dusty table. Margaret lighted every gas jet in the room, and in the dressing-room wdjoining, to say nothing of t.e gas log in the grate, but still the room seemed dark THE. DOWNFALL OF A STURDY OAK Fables For the Foolish—By Nicholas Nemo. - QUARBS felt very sorry tor his wife. S0 did oth- er peopls, but mot for the same reason. They pitied her because she was Mrs. Bquabs. Squabs was sorry for her because she was a woman. There was nothing unusual about that, because it has been the common theory of the male sex from the time of Father Adam down. The fact that lovely woman aforesaid is 2lmost invariably towing some represent- ative’ of the opposite—or contrary—sex around by the nose doesn’t seem to alter the face of the matter, or of the man. From the cradle to the grave man is the slave of circumstance, although the cir- cumstance is often attractively gowned and the chalns diplomatically concealed. The saying of that wise old speclalist in matrimony, J. Solomon, Esq., that wine, women, horses and the trusts are respon. sible for most of the trouble in the world may be true, but it is equally true that most men sneak off behind some poor lit- tle woman when they get into trouble from any of the other causes. However that may be, Mr. Squabs was every inch & man when it came to pity- ing women. Whenever Mrs. Squabs had a headache or had been beaten out by a nose at the bi-weekly euchre handicap or had been introduced to Mrs. Vander- snobs’ new hat or was suffering from any of the other numerous ills that feminine and dull, Bhe wished that it were morn- ing and she might bury herself in office work. The mald returned with a package which had arrived in Margaret's ab- sence and the latter inquired: “Is Miss Harding in this evening? If she is ] wish you would ask her to come in and have a cup of tea with me.” Miss Harding had the room at the end of the hall. The mald paused in the doorway and looked in in startled fashion. “Why, didn’t you know? Miss Harding dled while you were gone.” “Died!” “Yes, pneumonia—awful sudden, too. None of her folks were here. They live ug State somewhere, and the undertaker shipped the body."” Margaret sat staring at the even flame of the gas log. *“None of her folks were herée. They shipped—" The life had died out of the great city and the clock struck 2 when Margaret Ashton lald down her pen. She bent low to kiss the letter as she sealed it, and again there came to her the vision of the man and the girl, walking up the narrow flagged pathway to the church. o @ e . . 0 Ten days later a man who wore gold glasses and looked at her above them called her into his private office. She had only been in that office twice before, and they had been red-letter events in her business career. “Miss Ashton, we have been going over the results of that last trip you made. They are remarkable for a woman. And we have decided to make you superin- tendent of the Troy offices.” He paused for an expression of sur- prise or appreciation. Miss Ashton was etudying the carpet. The great man coughed. “Your salary, of course—"" “Thank yo! she said, still without looking up, “but I have accepted—another position.” The great man fairly jumped. “But, my dear young .woman, should consider—"" P have considered—and this is for you lite.” This time she looked up, straight into the eyes of the great man BSomething he read thers made him rise and extend his hand cordially. “My dear Miss Ashton, I trust you will be very happy. And I congratulate the young man with all my heart.” flesh is heir to, Mr, Squabs would put on his most superior air, borrowed for the evening from the office boy, and descant & few long-distance descants on the in- nate superiority of men over women in every particular. Mr. Squabs could jump up and do a double reverse descant with both hands tied behind him any time. “My dear,” he would say, and when a man says my dear he is either preaching or apologizing. “My dear, you should be stronger. Control yourself. Do you ever see me yield to little ills or worries, and considety how many of the gas bills and of outrageous fortune I have Mrs. Squabs might have reminded him that he didn't have to bear being married to a man named Squabs, but that would have been impolite as well as unwise. Half the domestic trouble in the worid is due to some rash woman telling her hus- d the truth about himself. The other half is due to women finding out the truth THE SUNDAY CALL were hidden, thelr mutilated skeletons being afterward discovered. This castle of crime continued to flour- ish until the year 1773, when a traveler who was seeking shelter one night saw and heard things which decided him in choosing the sward for a couch and the stars for a coverlet. He communicated his discovery to the Government at Span- ish Town, with the result that an inves. tigation was ordered. One of Hutchison's slaves heard that the soldiers were coming to look at the famous scenery around “Edinburgh Cas- tle” and warned hlf master. The mur- derer thought that the scenery would in no way suffer by his absence and fled to the jungle. When the soldiers arrived they found some interesting relics in the black cave, and sought to thank Mr. Hutchison for his hospitality, But the host at that mo- ment was drifting in an open boat on the Caribbean Sea to the north of the island, Intent upon reaching Cuba and safety. The Jamalcan Government beat the jun- gle for several days, then gave up the chase after a supposed sulclde. Admiral Rodney, who was then cruis- ing In West Indian waters, was return- ing to Port Royal, when from the quar- terdeck of his battleship he espled a speck upon the ocean. It was a drifting boat. In it Redney found a man dying LOVE’S of thirst. The castaway was picked wp and restored to consciousness. It was Hutchison. When the murderer learned that he ‘was aboard of a British battleship bound for Port Royal he wanted to jump over- board. Rodney's saflors restrained him. however, feeling some pity for the man, not knowing the real reason for his oft attempted suicide. They belisved his suf- ferings had rendered him Insane. In the meantime the Jamalican Govern- ment had gathered such evidence that, when Hutchison arrived at the capital, Spanish Town, he was promptly tried and sentenced to be hanged. On_the night before his execution the murderer wrote his last will and testa- ment npon the wall of his prison cell He left freedom and wealth to his slaves (none of whom waited for freedom when the soldlers came) reserving only £100 for the erection of a tombstone over his own head. The following lines are en- graved on the stone, in accordance with the desire expressed in his will: LEWIS HUTCHISON, ‘Hanged in Spanish Town, Jamalca, On the 16th Morning of March, in the Year of His Lord, 1773, Aged 40 Years. Thelr sentence, pride and malice T defy, Despise their power, and like a Roman dfe. After writing these lines he cursed all men anu ..ed. POTION By Blair Eton. Copyright, 1803, by T. C. McClure, F course, it is very ob- vious that higfirst name was “Shorty,” but, what is not so obvious, his last name was not Ma- han. The name the rec- tor pronounced when he with the wriggling infant in his arms was Jefferson Douglass Jerrold. They were a fine old family, the Jerrolds, with an abundance of heirloom silver, faded an- cestral portraits—one of them a Copley— and enough family pride to sink a ship. When Jefferson Douglass had grown into a short, thickset youth, with sandy red halr and & mobile face, which effectu- ally concealed his thoughts and emotlons, the family council set about to choose a career for him which would do credit to the silver, the portraits and the family pride. E The exact moment when he decided what that career should be was that Octo- ber afternoon when Michael Ryan, ath- letic trainer and ex-middle-weight, rose grogglly from the floor of the gymnasium and rubbed the point of his jaw in a dazed fashion. Before him, unlacing the boxing gloves which encased his hands, stood a short, thickset young man with sandy red halr and an impassive face. Ryan pulled off his own gloves and ex- tended his hand, which the other shook gravely. “If T could hit like that,” sald Ryan, “I wouldn’t be here. Man, I could make & wonder of you in a year's time.” 3 That was why Jefferson Douglass cut short his course at college, where, to tell the truth, he was not succeeding tremen- dously along prescribed lines, and, in a stormy interview at home, announced his intention to seek his fortune In the world in his own way and by his own efforts. How those efforts were to be directed fe neglected to state, but when the identity of Shorty Mahan, the newly arrived stel- lar attraction in the lightweight class, was finally forced upon his unwilling fam- and not telling it. If the pernicious habit of truthfulness ever becomes chronio among women, divorces will be as plen- tiful as negro nurses of the late G. ‘Washington or bolos at a Filipino peace conference. ‘When Mrs, Squabs’ parent on her father's side departed this vale of tears d golf tournaments, not to mention the important trials of life, leaving Mrs. Bquabs disconsolate and $150,000 in cold cash—cold for lack of exercise—Squabs called her attention to the fortitude with which he bore up under the heavy bur- den of grief and simoleons. It was the same way when Mrs. Squabs’ mother's two months' visit in the Squabs domin- clle came to an end. The equanimity and fortitude with which Bquabs bore all of Mrs. Squabs’ troubles would have gained him a life membership in any philos- ophers’ union in the country, But there came & time when all his philosophy was knocked into the sem- stood before the font {ly, and their suspicious fear became bit- ter truth, his father swore roundly and wept. Just two weeks after this announcement Shorty Mahan, with his trainers, his sparring partner, his rubbers and his bull- terrier, took up his abode in a little cot- tage on the shore of Freshwater Lake, prepared for the monotonous three months of training which was to fit him for the fight of his life. The trouble began one May evening just at sunset, as Mahan and Jim Delaney. his sparring partner, were returning from a ten-mile run along the country roads. They had reached the village and were Jogging easily along the elm-lined streets when Mahan noticed a young woman standing beneath a cherry tree ‘and call- ing In tones of coaxing anxiety to an Angora kitten, which sulked among the branches at the top of the tree. He stopped short and turned into the yard. “If you'll permit me,” he sald, doffing his cap, “I'll get the kitten for you."” “Oh, if you would be so good,” said the girl, flushing becomingly. In another moment Shorty Mahan's red head was among the topmost branches, and then, with the kitten in his arms, he slid deftly to the ground. “Gee,” sald Delaney, joined him outside the fence, nifty, wasn't she?” Shorty wheeled on him suddenly. “Jim,” he said shortly, “that was a lady. Remember it, if you pleass.” And then he cut out a pace for the tralning quarters which landed Delaney there per- spiring and well-nigh blown. Delaney remembered afterward that it was dlirectly after the kitten affair that Mahan began to behave rather strangely. He insisted on taking his dally run quite alone. He found—or invented—numerous errands which took him to the village, and he went there alone also. Every Sunday night precisely at seven he slipped off for a quiet walk by himself— 80 he sald. . The weeks went past and the time of the fight approached. Instead of In- when Shorty “‘pretty creasing interest in his training Shorty’s ging. Delaney begged and the geal showed unmistakable signs of flag- trainers blance of a four-dollar Panama after & hard rain. He came home one evening with a look of nuine, deep-seated, broad-chested woe on his face that would h done credit to professional hu- morist. He was dying, that was all he knew. Already he could hear the great waves breaking on the further shore. Mrs. Squabs assured him that the near- est thing to & ive that he could hear ‘was leaky pipe in the kitchen sink, but he wouldn't have it that way. He could feel his feet getting cold already; he didn’t pause to reflect that if cold feet were & oertain indication of im- pending dissolution, the attractive but slippery poker chip would be a close second to the ravenous automoblile as an eliminator of foolishness from the of the earth. He called his family around him, bade them a long farewell between gasps, and expressed his regret to Mrs. Squabs that he hadn't been a better husband to her. THE SUNDAY CALL'’S Two Full Pages of the Latest Fascinating Craze in Literature HALF-HOUR STORIETTES I He @1dn’t regret it half as much &s she aid, but she was kind enough to let thal pass. Incidentally he filled Mrs. Squabs’ hand in beautiful fashion by confessing to various and sundry small sins that she hadn't been able to get next to, thereby giving her a lead over him that he will never be able to overcome. Mrs. Squabs didn't waste any time shedding the bitter tear of sorrow, but got busy with a hot water bottls and a mustard plaster. For an hour Squabs lingered on the brink of what he insisted was the cold and silent grave; then he concluded to ante up and take cards again. When the doctor arrived—Mrs. Squabs had sent for him more as an dence of good faith than because she thought he was likely to be needed—he found BSquabs sitting up and taking notics, supplemen: by a large bowl of soup. The doctor's was that a lunch of deviled lobster pius a quarter section of green cucumber equals a tem- porary regret for a wasted life. In fact, it's the only way some men can feel sorry for thelr sins. The doctor also re- marked that Mrs. Squabs had hustled around pretty lively for a woman who had had two teeth pulled that day and was looking forward to securing & de- cree of absolute divorce frem one more would get tired of growing and go out of business before thelr leaves were haif laney was waiting for him. “Now, about this prayer-meeting busi- ness, Shorty,” Dawson began. Shorty’s eyes flashed fire. - “If you fellows have been shadowing there's likely to be a rough house here.” he sald. He stood glaring about him for s moment, then turned on his heel and went to bed. There have been many vague theories sl Shorty last moment; others affirm he was Iiberal sum to forfeit the fight to The real reason, set forth In & leétter Shorty himself, is in the possession of Jim Delaney. It came the morning of the fight. “Lear Jim"” (so the letter ran), “it's all off. You know I have often sald that if 1 was ever defeated I'd never fight Well, I lost this fight befors it began. Clean knockout—by a woman, too. We were married last night beneath the tree where I caught the kitten. I'm out of it for good, Jim."” And that is why Shorty Mahan faded from the eyes of an admiring publie, and o also why Jefferson Douglass ™ custodian of the family pride, the and the ancestral portraits—one of 1s & Copley: .