The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, July 17, 1904, Page 5

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. “Watchers of the Trails” ROBERTS is due ',n ¥ c Here we cee e bear, who always seems by peculiar y & comic even his fiercen s a sert of farce; the lithe grace the cat tribe, beautiful in thelr play. passion-suggesting Iin thelr caress, terrible in the crouch that pre- cedes spring, fescinating al- ned ram, bravely guard- lambd from the wolf; the wolf in all his hunger-suggesting xu.:mest the birds of the air soar- ing far above us humans, tolling on earth’s surface; the lordly beasts with red heads, who fill the October weods with romance by thelir love and war, ss wanderings In search of lovemates, thelr love calls and fierce battles to the death for a disputed doe—all these are so well plic- tured for us by the artist Charles Livingston Bull, thet the illustrations help wonderfully the words of the an- thor in bringing closer home to us the lives of the beasts of the far-off for- est Altheugh this beok would be inter- esting to all, it will be especlally pleas- ing te the boys. Even if we older folks can’t care so much for the ani- mals as the keen curiosity of youth does, yet we all can all join in their enjoyment ef the stories and pictures &nd we can hope that this contempla- make them kinder to the If children love te ceonsider of the animals of the wild ts permit them to de so, for it is true, as the poet sings: best who loveth best both great and small, God who loveth us ée and loveth all. r all we are linked, more perhaps than a Darwin strate In sclentific prose, tures of the various and vast creation, e are more good stories in the n we have space to de- ike all good things, when one it makes you want S50 We try to give synop- samples. irst, there is the story of the “Freedom of the Black-faced Ram,” staring out with a picture of the ram on the top of Ringwaak Hill, guard- ing, sentinel-like, his beloved ewe and mb, who lay at his feet content eir protector. Note How that 5 e statement gives imaginative ma- terial for a picture fit to frame. This black-faced, heavily hofned ram comes froi. & white-faced hornless fiock by a freak of nature. He I8 what naturalists know by the name of a “sport”; and before the tale is half-way through you find eut that he 1s also a sport in the dead-game erm as men use it anent r own kind. He is also a f what students of heredity te as atavism, and has-“bred some far-off ancestor who and heavy goat-like e owner of the ram of this reasured him as a novelty till nd spoiling the uniformity of his white fleeced flock by begetting 1 splotched with black. Then he was sold at butcher’s price. He was led by his purchaser through the ess toward a far-off farm. The melt the sweet air of the wild atavism of his black face and was also in his blood and wish that no man had on him, ne fence might con- herder hold him from his wander. Midway aforest, the st, bent over to imbibe from ng spring. Obh, opportunity den great! thought the rope-led captive to himself. The situat as his ramship saw it was that this bent-over man with his k turned temp n-wise was the and perfect r‘var gateway d n«n then wide-open wilder- atavist as he rushed The man it was several and ter before his slower moving bled to the situation that eaded ram was gone where odbine twineth, ale ends comparatively tamely, s from butting to beloving, 1gry to the tender passion, »f pathos and ram- ance to the very last. In the wild- erness of his new-found freedom he finds also a ewe who has wandered far from the fold. He becomes her lover and cherishes her little lamb with all a foster-father’s fondness. Now for the finale comes Fate to play one of her most fantastic tricks. Through the wilderness happens to pass the man; he picks up the helpless little lamb, le the dam follows leating p! ively. The lover is led captive by this chain of events; the unseen rope holds ltke a hawser and the wildest, the most daring ‘“dead- game sport,” the most untamed and ;’F/ Q;//y A7 ff/le 7772 ,wr% = 7 el e _’___/L— ling captive, and all for ten- f that little white-bodied human man e that would not know pigot In a stale and who doe: a story from a empty beer ke The next sa e is much better. is called the “Alien of the Wild,” and this title is apt, attention-catching and fitting to the body of the tale. It is about a bull, and there is a good pic- ture of a bull that goes with it, done by the artist, Charles Livingstone Bull. This bull is born of a cow as she fled affrighted before a forest fire which de- stroyed her home shed-shelter and pro- tected pasture forever, and sent her wandering in the wilderness, where this bull calf, the “Alien of the Wild,” came It forth to the light of day. The wild deni- zens of the forest were superstitious about the bell the mother wore, and the rattle of it drove them off in panic dread whenever they disturbed her browsing. So the bull calf had time to come to the strength of bullhood. The first tragedy of his life was when the Indians shot his mother, and shud- dering at the smell of blood he hid away in the thickets. Long after he would bellow out his pain and loss and loneliness, and call to her in vain for that dear companionship which was nevermore to be the possession of the “Alien of the Wild.” As his strength grew and the stroke of isglation smote him day by day, the thing became what to humans is the iron entering into the soul. Now, his plaintive bel- lowings gradually turned to bitter tone, . 3 ¥ POPULAR READING OF THE DAY By E. SOMMERS, Manager Emporium Book Department. HESE days there are very few books that win their way entirely through their own merit, for the publishers have discovered that advertising and plenty of it pays, and pays well. Occasionally & book comes out in a plain, unassuming color and in e plain unassuming way, and the striking individuality stands out stronger than all the advertising that can be done. For instance, what could have had a greater sale than “David Harum” or “Mrs.Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch?” Both ran into the hundreds of thousands and are good sellers even at this late day, and that is something to say of & boo book that is ¢ conaldered light fiction, And the books, by the way, that are the most popular and that sell the best are light, summer reading; something that is frothy, scmething that is airy and that requires no deep thinking. Of course there are people who read books that are really worth while, but the average person is the one who asks for a pretty, winsome tale like “When Knighthood Was in Flower.” They want to be amused for the minute in a way which will leave no unpleasant memories. In fact, the demand is for stories that leave a pleasant impres- sion, rather than the old-time tragedy. The three books that are the most popular this year are “The Crossing,” “In the Bishop's Carriage” and “Mem- oirs of & Baby.” The first named sprang Into instant popularity, and there are few books that can boast of a better record. In the six weeks that it has been out we have sold over one hundred thousand copies and the good work is still being kept up, so that it is easy to prophesy that it will run into edition after edition. Now and then a clever bit of work is passed lightly over and 18 soon rele- gated to the back shelf. The public are as fickle as thistledown, blowing here one day and there another, and it is sincerely to be hoped they will veer in the direction of “When Wilderness Was King,” by Randall Parrish. This book is very good and entirely out of the ordinary, but whether it will be a success remains to be told. In speaking of the popularity of books, one thing should be duly con- gidered. It is one thing to rush to the library and take & book out on your membership card and another to walk into a shop and pay one dollar and a half for it. Money speaks louder than words, and it is this which constitutes a dealer’s idea of popularity. A story that may be all the talk on the streets may not be a paying proposition in the shops. The public has always had fads and probably always will have, and this holds good in the literary world as well as in any other. A few years ago everything ran to the colonial veln and nothing was considered quite up to snuff that did not at least suggest the powdered hair and the silks and the satins of picturesque colonial days. Yet this fad has died out to a grreat degree, People are tired of it. They want a change and when they are willing to pay for it, they certainly are entitled to it. Good books of adventure are what the public demand these days. ‘Witty, bright tales of children are tak- ing more or less and they are a splen- did class of books, for they never fait to be swest and wholesome. Soclety leaders have much to do with the popularity of books in their own little clique. At an afternoon gather- ing Mrs. So and So turns the conver- sation upon such and such a book and those who are in ignorance consider themselves entirely out in the cold and straightway go to a store and purchase it in order to post themselves. They want to read something, but really do not care just what, and as lonx as a book has been recommended it will do quite as well as anything else. And this is true of the average person. ‘When a book s dramatized it always leaps into public favor, even if it had been on the ragged edge before. For instance, when “Ben Hur” came to town every one was enthuslastio about the play and as a consequence we sold considerably over two thousand coples of the book. The same was true of “If T Were a King.” and even as short 2 time ago as when “The Little Min- ister” was here we ran out of coples of every size and description and sim- ply could not get them in fast enough for a few days. So when a book is staged its sale is helped a great deal. Books, by the way, are not like they used to be when Dickens, Scott and Thackeray were in their heyday. These authors, of course, remaln the stand- ards and there is never a time when they are not more or less in demand. but the popular novel of to-day is en- tirely different. In the first place it is written to sell and when it has run through & number of editions nothing more is demanded of it. The book that sells over a hundred thousand coples this year is but little talked of next. and the following year is entirely for- gotten, for m. same author has placed a newer and perhaps a better baok upon the market and the admiring and later to rage. He became a two- year-old. He tackled a big black bear just because he was mad with other things in general, and the bear licked him good for his presumption and left him neck-wounded and heart-sulky for many weeks. Then he fought a big full-grown moose just because he was angry at fate, and the bull moose thrashed him into deeper dudgeon. Then he sulked in the thickets for a whole year, till his neck grew thicker and stiffer and his horns stouter and more dangerous and his temper more terrible. So he emerged the next spring a three-year-old—bullhood was fully comie. But he was lonely and restless: he wanted something he could not find. No lowing responded when he bellowed. He found a female moose alone, await- ing a mate. He wooed her. Frightened at his strangely alien look and terrible angry head, she refused him. Then it dawned upon his dull brute brain that he was indeed the “alien of the wilderness.”” He let his sullen temper loose in rampage and browbeat bullfully everything he could find; tore every bear that crossed his trail; hurled all the hell that resided in his big neck into the hide of every bull moose who ventured on his chosen range. Then he picked out a high hill place which he would go to every morning and evening, and there, with his big black head silhouetted against the sky line, he would bellow forth his rage and deflance. Translated into human words his bellowings there would have re- sounded as the appalling blasphemy of a soul in rebelllon against the whole cosmic order because it was not made to his individual liking. The dust of his raging pawings go down the hill- side to the shadows and he holds his big black head to the light of the set- ting sun and curses and challenges everything in sight. That is the ple- ture the author’s words have conjured up before our imagination, and that is the dramatic moment the artist’s pen- cil has chosen to depict. One day the lordly bull, bellowing an- grily across his range, saw two hunt- ers coming down the river in a boat. He remembers well the look and smell of that breed of creatures; it was men who murdered his mother: their guns had first taught him the scent of blood and made him the allen of the wild. He rushes to the river brink and bellows out a challenge. A rifle rises to a hunter’s shoulder. Is this the end of the author’s art? Not yet. Let him alone, says the other hunter. They did not want bull meat. Down the stream they paddled and the bull followed bellowing at i{ntervals and be- tween times panting with pent-up rage. He was at enmity with all the world. Hating every creature of the wilderness who held aloof from him as an allen: mad with men because they had mur- dered his mother; mad with the femals moose because she had the ufkind folly to refuse him; mad with the wilder- ness for sending nothing out of its depths fit to fight him; feeling strong and mad enough to rip up the bowels of mighty mother earth herself; so he fol- lowed the boat. But in his pursult of the boat he chanced to come upon a feeding herd of cattle, and felt the call of his kind and, content and at peace in their com- pany after his cheerless years so empty of love and companionship, for- sook his grim pursult, and was adjust- throng are eager and impatlent for the latest one. Popular novels, by the way, are sel- dom ever gotten out In cheap editions. really are not worth while. The l!flndlflt pfln is one dollar and a half. but theat nay be lowered to one dollar and . 'ght cents If the dealer so pleases. Hc , he cannot sell it at & lower nguf the first year of ita publication. After that he &ho as he pleases, but as a general g the sale has so greatly diminished that he turns his attention to & better paylng Ilnvest- ment. This is not sowith the standard books. The demand is so great and compveti- tion is so keen that they may be pur- chased at almost any price. Shakes- peare stands first and next to it comes Dickens and either of these works may be had for the immenss.sum of ten cents. At this rate there is really no reason why every library in town should not comprise a complete set. Ten cents, of course, means an ordi- nary paper cover, twenty-flve cents a cloth cover and 8o on until the sum of one hundred dollars may be pald for a handsomely embossed leather set that reads for the world and all like the cheaper one. Just at present Horace Fletcher has been giving the literary world some clever work on The New Thought. Really one would be surprised at the nrumber of books that are sold and the number of magazines as well that are published on this subject. The fluffy summer girl, who looks as though she might want a pretty light story, goes her way with a volumne of reasoning and lessons with her and the plainly dressed little woman tucks the latest novel under her arm and walks out in & gullty fashion, 80 you see one can never judge by appearances. Any topioc that is brought forcibly be- fore the people always creates some- what of an impression upon deep think- ers. And this has been especially trus of the Eastern question. People dis- covered how very little they really knew about Russla and Japan and thought by delving into their past his- tory to better understand the problem. But the average man cares very littla for such perplexing questions, and the ‘women—never. They do not want to be troubled with the solid, heavy reading matter of the nations and are perfectly happy with the light fiction of the day. Consldering life’s trials and tribula- tions this is not to be wondered at These popular stories, especially of the Colonial type, seemed to be the ons thing needed with a hammock and a shady nook. Thelr plots are Interesticg though rarely heavy, their conversation is light and breezy, and all told they assist one to pass a thoroughly agree- able and frequently profitable after- noon. Musio and the opera should not be omitted from the list of books that are purchased by literary lovers, for this in {tself has made San Francisco fam- ous among the publishers. All the year round there is a splendid sale in this line of material, and it is difffcult to keep enough volumes on hand during the grand opera season and throughout the fall and winter. Those who love the music for its own sake want to ap- preciate the play for its literary worth, and, as & rule, ®ne will find that nearly every man, woman and child is thor- oughly acquainted with all the operas from A to Z and there are few cities in the Union, let me tell you, that can boast of such a record, ustrations fr ved throug lust came on But a bullet arged her. from a farmer's gun stopped his stilled the wild ragings of his heart forever. There {s also a splendid bear (L. C. Page & Co., Boston, Mass.; $2) i it The Auto Rubaiyat OVE!—Or the devil red who puts to flight Whate'er's befors him, to the left or right, Will toss you high as heaven when he strikes Your peor clay carcass with his mastere might! As the cock crows stand before The starting-point, amid the stream's wild roar, Shake hands, make wills, and duly are confess’'d, Lest, once departed, they return no mere, For whether toward Madrid or Wash- ington, Whether by steam or gasoline they run, Pedestrians keep getting in their way, Chauffeurs are being slaughtered ons by one. the “fends” who A new fool's every minute born, yeu say; Yes, but where speeds the fool of yester- day? Beneath the road he sleeps, the autos roar Close o'er his head, but cannot thrill his clay. Well, let him sleep! to do With him, who this or anything pursue S0 it take swiftness?—Let the children scream, Or constables shout after—heed not you, Oh ye who anti-auto laws would make And still insist upon the silly break, Get in, and try a spin, and then youw'll ses How many fines you will impose—and take! Ah, my beloved, ill the tank that cheers, Nor heed the law's rebuks, the rabhle's tears, Quick! For to-morrow you and I may For what have ye be Ourselves with yesterday's sev'n thou~ sand years. A pair of goggles and a cap, I trow, A stench, a roar, and my machine and thou Beside me, golog ninety miles an hour Oh, turnpike road were paradise enow! Ah, love, could we successfully conspire Against this sorry world for our desire, Would we not shatter it to bits withe out So much of damags as a busted tirel ‘With gasoline my fading life provide, And wash my body in it when I've dled, And lay me, shrouded in my cap and cape, By some nof autoless new speedway's side. Yon that goes pricking o'er the ”ES".n‘"n“.r;Im’ il = )ntuek.uu.twm-!uhvunl And when, like her, O love, you coms to Your n'a‘olranln‘ spin for appetite’s sweet And g"‘" the spot where I lie buried, In _memory of me, fiing wide the break! —Reginald Wright Kauffman, in July Lippincott's. Why Women’s Wages Are Low ATHER an amusing reason Is given by Anna B. Doughten as to why young girls’ wages still remain so much lower than young men’s, when the same work is accomplished and in quite as good a manner. “Seldom,” she says, “does a girl work with any idea of permanency, and often the brighter and more capable she is, the sooner does some young man find that her qualifications are just what he wants in a wife. Indeed, it is a fact,” says this philosopher, “that many employers have found it useless to train good- looking, capable girls in any special lines, for just when they are fitted for the required duties and the accom- panying higher salary, off they go.” Miss Doughten is in a position to dis- cuss the subject, as she is social secre- retary in one of the largest publishing houses in America.—From Social Ser- vioes