The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 24, 1904, Page 8

NCISCO. CALL THURSDAY OVEMBER 24, 1904 THE SANFRANCISCO CALL FOHN D. SPRECKELS. ..........0-c---ccsssssssssssssessss Propeictes ADDRESS ALL COMMUNICATIONS TO PO P P e W __THIRD AND MARKET STREETS, 8AN FRANCISCO JOHN McNAUGHT. . L o o THANK NOVEMBER 24, 1904 LET US GIVE THANKS., the most ancient times until now men have had set times sons in which to express gratitude and thanks for the nature, which come to them from a source beyond | their control. It is a part of that feeling in all mem- race that there is a power, some say natural and some al, that is greater than man. 7 ect for thought that is opened out by that feeling is vilization. The Chaldean shepherds who watched ght and contemplated the stars above them. were ated to thoughtfulne: They realized something iess of the physical universe, and learned at last to 1e planets, which changed their position, from the fixed nmovable. In the elevation of thought that fol- astronomy had its origin, and civilization took a step forward. it has been whenever man has gained a higher conception ot and of the great manifestations of ROM F seemed ng things ar the whol verse. yan remained a troglodyte, each concerned only in the ave and busied only with the getting of the here would have been no civilization. It was a sense of interdependence that obsoleted indi- ess, and made civilization and liberty possi- men were drawn closer to each other in interest, and finally when the blessings and bene- that were taken by the single man at first nd strong hand, were bestowed with fair mass of humanity the selfish glorification of strength gave way to a common feeling of thank- jon source of every good and perfect gift neces- s existence. ) are united in a brotherhood of thankfulness are one respect to all things that make for the common good, and support of that liberty which man now claims as his t this spirit is necessary to the maintenance of lib- put by President Roosevelt in his introduction of Mr. hington audience on last Tuesday. Speaking of man the President said: “No republic can per- exist when it becomes a republic of classes—when the t the interest of the whole people, but only the interest lar class to which he belongs, or fancies he belongs, prime importance. In antiquity republics failed as they use they tended to become either a republic of the few who many, or a republic of the many who plundered the r case the end of the republic was never in doubt, case as in the other, and no more so in one case than hat hi velopment o class se cach a 100d « yod that will not have classes among men this jed. In that brotherhood it has passed from ado- ywer, ‘and to-day, mighty among the mighty, its people 1 join hearts in thankfulness for all the gifts of the of our vast domain is suffering left without succor t. None need starve, none need perish of cold, nt or concealment dictated by pride, for everywhere, ller centers of population, the spirit »d, expressed by an amazing number of organizations, is the needy and cheer the unhappy. Man, the cave mger gnaws his bone in selfish isolation, unthankfully. family. we may well be thankful for the institutions of lib- commeon schools in which the children of the people get their first lesson in human nature, and learn that which in after life protects them from class appeals and judice. We may be thankful for the abundance of nature’s d for the industry which converts it to the use of man and t with equity. We may be thankful for the good and er of the peaple who compete for control of a free gov- nity and order; and accept the decision of the ma- ut heartburning or grudge. And, above all, we may be hat our industry, wrought upon nature’s store, gives us plus of those things necessary for existence that we hear ar cry of distress from the ends of the earth where men perish ., and answer it out of our abundance. For this and the t of mercy and charity within us, let there be thanks. <. in a sense, the close of the season’s productive work, ¢ when its results are known, its harvests gathered and ifilled. Peace has been with us, and our Government has ties and s gre i mp: 1blic resist in the spirit of brotherhood all attempts to over- verty in the clash of class and faction. BEET SUGAR IN COLUSA. throw HE CALL is glad to learn from the Sacramento Valley that Txim beet sugar project at Colusa is not abandoned as. was re- ported, but will be taken up later. The production of sugar beets and the manufacture of beet sugar are not experiments in Californi Everywhere this industry has been tried it is successful. 11 is profitable to the owners of the mills and to the farmers, who get mgore pr out of their lands and diversify their crops, than which there 10 greater blessing for an agricultural community. he mills already in operation in this State are from Alameda southward, clear into Southern California. Because the enterprise lined sonthward from its start at Alvarado, there may kave been generated the idea that it will not flourish in the Sacra- mento Valley. But this is a mistake. That valley has just as good sugar lands as any in the State, and should not be under the ban. It would pay the whole valley to contribute to the Colusa project, for the sake of removing any misapprehension on the subject. Wherever sugar beets are raised land values increase. In Idaho, from Pocatello northeastward, there is a line of beet sugar mills, and land values and rentals have been wonderfully stimulated by their success. If the sugar beet will do that in Idaho, at an altitude of 5000 feet, it should do it in a higher degree in the rich Sacramento Valley. If the Colusa project is suspended through the indisposition of the farmers to contract acreage they should by committees inquire into the effect of beet culture in the places where it is established. If it is a labor problem and farmefs fear they cannot get the kind and quantity of labor they want and when they want it they should say so, make their statement and argument and let the whole State | consider it, if such general consideration be needed to solve what- ever problem is holding back this desirable addition to the indus- County the years to come be as good to us and to all men, and may | tries of a fine valley, that has been too much neglected. THE PRESS OF THE NATION. It is not surprising that the publish- ers of Herr Niemann's movel, “The Conquest of England,” regard the Rus- sian rights of great ¥alue. The first German edition was 25000 copies. If more Russians could read and if the Russian Government did not so thor- oughly drain Ivan's pocket there should be practically no limit to the demand. A book which opens with a vivid de- scription of the loss of India by Great Britain through a defeat at Lahore, foliows with an account of the de- truction of the British fleet off Flush- ing, and closes with the story of the triumphant march of an allied army into London, and then tells us how the British dominions are parceled out among the victors, contains elements |in General Stoessel's determination to die like a rat in that doomed citadel | Now that he has| {at Port Arthur? made all the defense that any brave man could, wouldn’t it be much bet- | ter for him and the heroes about him | to live for the Czar, rather than reck- |lessly die for him?—Cleveland Plain | | Dealer. | General Stoessel's pathetic weekly | |farewells to the Czar, coupled with | the tragic assurance that Port Arthur is his tomb, look at this distance less like the nervy resolve of a sol- ier than they do like tearful sugges- tions that he ought to be told to sur- render the place, at least if he thought it would soon fall anyway. If that is his game it is a losing one. St. Peters- czlculated to give it vogue in Russia.— New York Globe. Is there anything really admirable Lurg willingly credits him with great heroism, but coolly says nothing about surrender.—Chicago Chronicle. BY EPES W .- LOSE the window. I cannot| stand it!” said the girl, | thrusting her hatpin back % C and forth in the velvet with trembling fingers. | The man did as he was told and then turned to her wonderingly. “Can’t stand what?" he asked. * “That noise down in the street! Those gamins tooting horns and beg- ging for pennies. It's so different from | last vear.” i The man did not answer at once, but | he understood. He could see it all, the big dining-room at the farm, the large ! table in the center with its vivid red cloth and green shaded lamp, flanked on one side by plates of apples nnd‘ nuts, and on the other by coples of “The American Farmer” and “The Ransom County Herald.” How they had both stood in the door- | way that last Thanksgiving night for a | final glance at the dear old room! And the next time they had entered it, how everything had changed! Death, des- olation, the village auctioneer and the foreclosure of the mortgage, all these had come to the little farm in less than twelve months. The two years that Janet had spent in the big city deny- ing herself everything, working in an office during the day and in her studio room at night to send home interest money for the mortgage, now repre- sented just so much wasted time. They had both come from Center- ville, she as a typewritist and he as a bookkeeper—both fresh from business | college. The mighty city had de- manded much of their country vitality and energy, so that they had seen very little of each other, considering that they had come from the same town, yet somehow both had felt comforted in the thought that the other was within reach of messenger or telephone. Janet had lived very much to herself and her typewriter table, but Herman had managed to see more of the city and see more of the city’'s ways. That was why he had discovered a desirable restaurant where he could secure their table d’hote dinner for Thanksgiving day at the moderate price of 60 cents each. Now he tried to speak cheerfully and to avoid looking at the hands that trembled and the eyes that would fill | in spite of Janet's strenuous efforts to mairtain her composure. “Hurry up, Janet!” he said; ‘“the Ramona fills up early, you know.” “T would not care if every table was taken,” she replied impulsively. *“Oh, forgive me, Herman, when you are so | kind to think of me to-day, but Thanksgiving dinner in a restaurant— | you know that seems only for the| homelass ones, and it makes me realize | more than ever that I belong to that| class now."” She looked around the room in which she had gathered the few family | heirlooms brought down from the, farm. It did not look homeless to Her- | man, and its possibilities as the scene | of the Thanksgiving dinner were| brought to mind as he caught sight of | the handle of a chafing dish, sticking | out from the cretonne cupboard cu -] tain. | “I say, Janet, we won't go out. We'll | cook dinner right here.” | She sat down very suddenly andi stared at him. | “Start Thanksgiving dinner at 12} o'clock?” she asked half bitterly. “And | will you please tell me how you can | cook a dinner by the aid of one oil! stove, not guaranteed to work, and a! chafing dish built for two?” “Dead easy,” was his reply, as he . SARGENT. buttoned up his overcoat and reached for his hat. “You fill the oil stove and get the chafing dish ready, and set out your table, and I'll do the rest.” Before she could ask any more ques- tions the door closed behind him. Me- chanically she removed her hat and reached for the gingham apron which she used when preparing her break- fasts and luncheons. Her dinners she always took at a nearby restaurant. She lifted the typewriter from its table and hid it in the closet. Then she spread a newspaper over the table. That would do for the culinary depart- ment, she argued. She removed the student lamp from the center table and spread upon it a square piece of plain linen, handed ' down by Grandmother Harris. Then she went to a trunk which she had; never opened since the day it left the farm, and, one by one, she lifted out the treasured pieces of family crock- + il She sat down to watch him unpack the bundles. | There were tears in her eyes| now, and they were not bitter tears. She began to feel strangely content. | The idea that Herman might fail to produce the viands for the feast never | entered her head. Somehow or other | he had always accomplished what he | started to do, ever since the day he| had braved Farmer Green's bull to| steal for her a certain red cheeked ap- ple which she coveted. When she heard Herman's step at the door she was just putting the chrysanthemum he had brought her to wear into a slender vase to grace the center of the table. As she flung open the door she fairly gasped. The-bundie he carried In either arm rose above his shoulder. She sat down weakly on a flat-topped truhk by the “kithen table” to watch him un- pack the bundles. He checked off each package. “One can chicken soup, ery. one bottle ! and that was something to be GIVING FOR TWO | pickled onions, two turkey drumsticks, ditto slices of white meat, stuffing and gravy, one tin pail of cranberry jelly, one wooden dish filled with mashed po- tatoes, one can lima beans, one stalk celery, one mince pie (just see how | thick it is with real raisins), one sack of nuts (have you got a hammer?) and | two apples.” Janet looked at the remarkable com- bination with eyes turned suddenly grave. “‘Herman, that cost you more than a table d'hote dinner would, and now how are we going to cook it?” “Most of it was cgoked at the deli- catessen shop, and haven't we two stoves, or as. good as two stoves?| Draw out that oil ccntraption of yours.” She sprang to her feet. In a few moments the tea kettle was boiling and the water was ready to pour over the coffee in the little French pot which was then left to drip. ‘The cranberry sauce and the rest of the cold dishes were set forth in brave array .on the china from the farm. While the soup cooked in the chafing dish the potatoes and the gravy were all heated in a big saucepan over the | the soup was| oil stove, and wlen served the beans took its place in the chafing dish. And the two young peo- ple, who had forgotten to 1 homesick and heartslck, either end of a ridiculously Thanksgiving dinner table. At last they sat over their nuts and raisins. Last year they had eaten them in front of a blazing fire. stinctively Janet glanced toward a ra- diator in a distant corner of the room. It did not look cheerful, but the steam was escaping merrily from the valve, ankful for. Then she looked back at Herman; she ought to be thankful for him, too. She gave a little sigh of contentment. He looked up quickly. It sounded like old times. “Do you know,” she said wonder- ingly, “I never supposed this place could be so much like home.” “Home is what people make what two people make it,”” he rected. He had stcpped picking over the nuts now, and his hands were clasped under the table. He did not want her to see that they were shaking. He had made the plunge so suddenly. “I don’t think this room is just what we ought to have, but we can get a small = cor- nice little flat of three or four roomis, | and you would not have to stop your work so long as ypu like it so much, but we could make sure the front room was cheerful and light for you to write in. 1 think it's a sure cure for Lome- sickness for both of us.” She sat staring at him, at first stolid- ly, then gradually the color came into her cheeks, and the expression on her | face changed. “I don't understand,” she said, but Herman knew that she un “erstood him | perfectly. “I am just offering you a prescrip- tion signed H. Blake, M. D., to e taken three times a day, dinner and supper—a husband and a cozy little flat.” Janet was regaining her composure. “With delicatessen cookinz?’ “Well,” he maintaineq stoutly, “it is considerably better than poor restaur- | ant food, and when Scollard & Co. wake up to an appreciation of my real worth you can queen it over a real flat and a real maid.” “T think 1 will try the prescription.” | And that is why Herman Blake has always maintained that while most men win their brides by the aid of the florist or candy maker, Le wooed Janet through a délicatessen shop. (Copyright, 1904, by Geo. W. Sargent.) | JUST SMILES., i | AND SILENCE FELL. | Guest—Here you-—your thumb is in mv soup. | Waiter—Ah! what cher kickin’ about? It ain’t takin’ up much room —if you keep on kickin’, though, I'll | ill the plate up. | 4 | | PAPA IN JAIL. Mrs. Bright—I haven't seen your | parents for a'long time. ! " Dickie—No'm. Mom’s monia and can’t come out. | Mrs. Bright—And what has papa |got? | Dickie—Two years, and he | come out, either. o o3 got pneu- can't Pertinent Points in Panama. Panama, little as it looks upon the map, has the area of Maine and the population of the District of Columbia. Its people are nearly all colored or mestizo; 40,000 of them are Jamaicanrs, | in color black and by allegiance British | subjects. There are 2000 Chinamen. LOVE, IT IS DECLARED, IS NOT — ALL THERE IS OF WOMAN'S LIFE seated themselves at ' In- | breakfast, | | Yesterday's three nuptial ceremonies were strongly contrasted in detail, even { though each was an event of prom- inence. . ! The wedding of Mies Susan PiAtton | and Dr. Le Moyne Wills was surround- ed by simplicity and quietude, for though there were several friends pres- ent no formal invitations were issued. This young couple have a large follow- ing from Southern California. Among those who came to town were Mrs., Hancock Banning, Mrs. T. B. I»;lrm-\n.J Miss Adelaide Brown and George Patton. The bride was unattended, while the | groom was served by Dr. Harry Sher«! man. Rey. David Evans officiated, the | bride's father, Colonel George H. Smith, | giving her away. After a honeymoon in Santa Barbara Dr. and Mrs. Wills will live in Los Angeles. S . A wedding attracting wide attention |and characterized by many brilliant| features was that yesterday of Miss| Gertrude Eells and Lieutenant John| Franklin Babcock in Trinity Church. | The position heid by these young peo- | ple, together with their immense per-| sonal popularity, attracted a great| number of friends to the ceremony, for | genuine interest wmpelled attendance. | The bride, beautifully gowned in bro- | caded white, was attended by her six| bridesmaids, dressed in shaded yellow | chiffon creations. Miss Dorothy Eells, | maid of honor, wore white with yellow embroideries. The groom was served by | John Sheppard Eells as best man. At 3:30 o'clock the wedding march an- nounced the approach of the bridal| party, led by the ushers, Licutenant| Needham Lee Jones, U. S. N.; Lieu-| tenant Harry Howard Rousseau, U. S.! N.; Benjamin Dibble, Wharton Thurs- ton, John Kittle and William D. Page. | Following were the bridesmaids, pre-| ceded by the maid of honor. Then came | the bride with her father, who gave her away, the ceremony being per- | formed by Rev. Dr. Frederick Clam- pett. The home of Mr. and Mrs. Eells | was then thrown open to the large | number of friends, who followed with congratulations for Lieutenant and | Mrs. Babcock. They will reside in San Francisco after a wedding jpurney, for | the young leutenant is stationed In| town. St. Luke's was the scene of a| charming and impressive wedding ves- terday, when, exactly at the nooh hour, | Miss Margaret Simpson became the bride of William James Cuthbert. | The groom, a young divine of Kioto, | :anan, met Miss Simpson during .her | visit to her hister, the wife of Bishop | | Partridge, also living in Kioto. Yesterday's wedding is the outcome ' of their meeting and acquaintance. The bride, gowned in white, em- broidered with the Japanese wistaria, was attended by her sister, Miss Amalia Simpsom, and Miss Helen Part- | ridge. Rev. Ceecil Montague Marracks served the groom, F. W. Dixon and Dr. | yHOWB!‘d Hill being the ushers. | Bishop Partridge, assisted by Rev. ! | Burr Weeden, performed the cere- mony. The church was decorated in white chrysanthemums, used in great quan- tity; altar and chancel also bearing a | profusion of these same flowers. A reception at the Simpson home | fcllowed the ceremony. To this nearly | 200 guests were bidden. The bride’s table, rich with dressing of white flowers, was extremely attrac- | I | 1 { | | X2 BY DOROTHY FENIMORE. N love, a girl's fancy needs the curb I more often than it needs the spur. It is high-strung, impatient, aquiv- er with Pagnrne!s‘ for the open road. It does not have either real enough, or the right kind of fodder to make it reliable. But usually it gets the spur.’ So reck- lessly do women ride, so careless are they of consequences. Most of them are such poor horsewomen, in fact, that they do not even realize that if they were better riders they would take no unnecessary chances. There is a great deal of foolishness in a girl's or even a woman's attitude toward love. Both give it an undue im- portance in their lives. They are hypo- chrondriacs so far as this one malady Is concerned. = They have been told so often, and feel that they are not living up to their privileges unless they are enjoying its pleasing pangs every min- ute, whether they can well spare the time for it or not. I do not put much faith in “the whole | existence” theory. Spiritually, love is a beautiful inspiration; practically, it is the best working hypothesis in the world for a woman’s endeavors; es- thetically, it is her crown of beauty. But it is not all that there is of life by any means. Of course, 'tis true fundamentally that a woman's sex is her book of fate. Her greatest happiness and her noblest career is in marriage and motherhood and in helping to bring up her grand- children. And love is the means to all this. But no girl is going to be a matri- monial success unless she cultivates her head and hands as well as her heart. She will need the full powers of all three after she is married if she pulls fair in the domestic harness. Love never yet ran a household capably un- assisted. And even if it could, what would be the sense of overworking one’s heart when one’s head and hands work | i stood ready either to take turms or to share home burdens? gument for the so-called higher edu- cation of women, or for special train- ing in domestic science. I still stand on the ground of love. trying to call attention in my own way to that truth which Emerson ex- presses when he says that the atmos- to mirages. One of the greatest things that a girl faces when she enters young womanhood is her liability to fancy herself in love. She knows that fall- ing in love is one of the feats expect- ed of her. And everything that she has ever heard or read about the ex- perfence leads her to believe in its de- sirability. Every influence upon her tends to make her overemotional and oversentimental. This may either make her unwise in her choice of a husband or it may work another evil. which, to my thinking, is less to be deplored. When a girl feels at 16 or 17 that hergheart is broken—and many a one does feel so, alas!—has nobody any responsibility in the matter except herself and the man who hurt her? Doesn’t the mother come in for some share of 1t? I think she does. She has permitted her daughter to grow up in an atmosphere of false sentiment. Too much sentiment is falsé® in itself, for it is not true to life as we really live it. And she has let her learn what love is without first learning what life is. She has not kept before her child’'s eves a fine ideal of womanhood—a womanhood that loves and thinks and works with the same breath, the same hope, the | same joy and the same sorrow. She has not treasured the girlish confi- | dence which nature gave into her keeping as a holy trust. Her head, as much as her unhappy child’s heart, has allowed itself to be led astray. BEST OF BREAKFAST FOODS.+é We often read of the wondrous good ‘Wrought by the brands of breakfast food; How age unlimbers his stiffened legs By a dally dfet of Pura Pegs, And buoyant life and vigor mingles In a generous jar of Shredded Shingles. We're told how health waits on the man ‘Who gormandizes on Brawny Bran; What smiles awaken on rosy lips O'er a steaming bowl of Cero-Chips, And what gain in weight and strength and sa: vings, Fating Eviscerated Shavings. But better than these of which tales are told, As trade now stands there is not enough gold out of the earth, if it were day. 2 Though never found where such things are sold, This article is not meant for an ar-| I am merely | phere of the affections is always liable | — | { { | MIRROR OF DAME FASHION. »THE SMART SET= BY SALLY SHARP. tive and held the following guests: Rev. and Mrs. Cithbert, Miss Amalia Simpson, Miss Helen Partridge, Miss Eschen, Miss Haines, Rev. C. M. Mar- racks, F. W. Dixon, Dr. Harold Hill, George Hind After a brief wedding trip Rev. Mr. and Mrs. Cuthbert will spend the holi- days with Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, leav- ing in January for their Kioto home. VBl 2 The Sequoia Club on Tuesday even- ing gave one of the most delightful venings since its organization. A friendly, cordial and congenial atmosphere pervaded. Several visitors were present, among them Miss Helen Robeson of Bruasels, e | who was a very attractive personage by reason of her attainments and pres- tige. She has lived in Brussels many years, has been presented at court and is an accomplished linguist. Miss Robeson will spend the winter in San Francisco. . . To-day Mrs. W. J. Gunn and Miss Mabel start for the East. They will remain in New York visiting with rei- atives until the holidays, when they will embark for Porto Rico. Here, under tropic skies, will the maid plight her troth to Dr. Thayer. With much regret the younger set are parting with a most interesting maiden. ’'Tis sald, however, that Dr. Thayer will bring his bride back to her native heath. . James D. Phelan entertained at the Bohemian Club last evening, giving a dinner to Miss Anita Harvey and sev- eral other guests, some of whom were the following: The Misses Ada, Miss Alice Sullivan, Mr. and Mrs. J. Downey Harvey, Miss Margaret "and Miss Gertrude Hyde-Smith, Mr. and Mrs. Frank Sullivan. . . . Mrs. Horatio Stebbins and Miss Lucy Stebbins were given a recep- tion last evening at the Unitarian Church that drew out a large number of friends in cordial reunion and who passed a delightful evening convers- ing with the guests. The Channing Auxiliary, of which | Mrs. W. R. Wheeler is president, lent the receiving party ev. Bradford Frank Symmes, its hospitality, composed of: Leavitt, Mr. and Mr: Mr. and Mrs. J. Curtis, Mr. and Mrs. E. W. Stadtmuller. Mr. and Mrs. E. 8. Simpson, Mr. and Mrs. W. S. Dun- combe, Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Mills, Mr. and M Charles Osgood, Mr. and Mrs. William Hardy, Mr. and Mrs. George Hooker, Mr. and Mrs. Alexan- der Eells, Mr. and Mrs. E. C. Burr, | Mr. and Mrs. Frank Sumner, Mr. and Mr. and Mrs. and Mrs. Charles Mrs. Milton Andros, James Denman, Mr Stetson Wheeler, Mr. and Mrs. John F. Merrill, Mrs, Lloyd Baldwin, Miss Mabel Symmes, Miss Ethel Par- ker, Miss Grace Baldwin, Miss Ruth Campbell, Miss Laura Kimber, Miss Edith ‘Buckingham, Mr. and Mrs. Fairfax Wheelan, Mr. and Mrs. James Margo, Mr. and Mrs. Julius Weber, Wwilllam Wood and John F. Perry Jr. . . . Miss Nellie E. Turner, daughter of Mr. d Mrs. Willlam T. Turner of Stockton, was married yesterday to Thomas B. Foster of San Franecisco. The ceremony took place at 5:30 in the afternoon at the home of the bride’s parents, Edward L. McClellan officiating. i | N —p "1 A Pretty House Gown of Gray Taffeta Silk, Trimmed With Fancy Hand Stitching 4bout the Bodice. Dark Red Silk Thread Being Used. A W hite Lace Chemisette and White Lace ai the Eibows Add a Daintiness. 4 Red Silk Girdle Confines the Waist. | p— — all coined, to transact the business of al Are the morning kisses you like to steal From loving lips that bless the meal. Oh, no, there is nothing “Just as good” s the Cupid Brand of Breakfast Food! Special information supplied daily to | business houses and public men by the | Press Clipping Bureau (Allen's), 30 Cali- | ! fornia street. Telephone Main 1042. ¢ | Townsend's California Glace fruits in artistic fire-etched boxes. 715 Market st —————— Empty hours make aching hearts.