The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 9, 1905, Page 22

SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY APRIL 9, 19 THE SANFRANCISCOCAL Propri JOEN D. COMMUNICATIONS TO +esseesssss. Manager ADDRESS ALL JOHN McNAUGHT. PUBLICATION OFFICE..... ..... __THIRD AND MARKET STREETS, SBAN FRANCISCO .-APRIL 9, 1905 KING FARMER. HE reports of the Agricultural Department bring prominently Tinrward the kingship of the American l_armer. This day of rest we <it in church, in the dim religious light that sprays th_ruugh stained glass window, and to-morrow we go to business in the tile palaces of the city and send our commerce to far lands great ships. But the temples of religion and of trade, and the hat go down to the sea, were all first plowed out of the earth the farm value of the crops of this country was of the corn crop alone would have paid eft a surplus. The value of the food crops mes the capital stock of all the national banks, and“ e of all our foreign trade. When cotton and other ; livestock and the other secondary products of the‘[ he sum of value is so vast that the minds _fails to | es may pinch out, manufactures fail, stock ]beersg fluence to beggary, but king farmer never z}bdlcates,f ever puts his kingdom under a regency, nor fails in his annual| I'he valu d | him towns would not be. With the tonnage supplied | missing no railway could move a wheel.” He is the dictator. | have commercial trusts and labor organizations which limit out- ut, conjure with prices, smite competition and affect grgat power ‘financial and commercial destiny of the world. But they are | es and 1gs compared to what the farmers could do if the;;| t and decided that for one season only they would limit | r own necessities, producing no surplus. At the| at season there would not be left a solvent bank, railrooad, | ing establishment in the whole country. The! community would disappear and it would be in vain ity life to seek the means of sustenance and profit in the st or in the waters under the earth. is known that the farm value of the agricultural products | for the last two years is more than the yield of all | mines of the world since the year 1492, the vast power and ce of the farmers and the farms are brought strikingly before 1. A labor strike on New York Bay cuts off the supply of a week, and there is distress. A teamsters’ Chicago excludes butter, milk and eggs for a few days, and | ver 1t to thei fac: l \' dstuffs for ling. But a farmers’ strike against the production of a s 1s for market would in a month drive employer and employe to | s eir own bootheels and live on the broth. ans kow here and tow there to organizations. They take cond hand from this or that organization. They let in classes and races of immigrants according to the direc- 1gth of the wind that blows ballots. But if the farmers ize and combine their power, where politicians now their knces they would crawl on their bellies. The valuable that States compete for him. In California at t we are not striving to lure more merchants, or bankers, lawyers, doctors or preachers. We are after farm- axing them from the older States of the East. To e exploit our climate, the fertility of our soil, the seduc- scenery 1l co when the farmers come in thousands the mer- hanics. lawyers, doctors and preachers will ring a tourist rate on the railroads to fetch them. without them, but they cannot live without him. be a hayseed and chew plug tobacco, but he is king. His al estate is not below that of the professions. A California is a learned man. He does not grow field crops 1d by hazard. Others may run business by -ule it the farmer.is guided by science in the art of agricul- n entomologist, a soil chemist, and knows the functions r in the productions of his crops. He builds cities with ¢ d pruning hook. In war no battle can be won 1 peace no prosperity unless he wills it and coaxes it e ground armer car this yvear 100,000 more farmers, cut up the land ir needs, and the State will feel an impulse be imparted by the bringing of a hundred millions farmer creates capital. It sprouts with his crops at 1 is gathered into barns at harvest. » live in cities and seldom see the fields will do well to wledge of this, our king. He is a kindly and sometimes care- we appreciate him but little. But if he should turn make a giant’s use of his giant power, we would sup- Peace be upon his farmstead, and plenty upon I'he TEAISM AND TAOISM. EAISM is taken as a text by the exceedingly clever Japanese Okakura-Kakuzo, for one of the brightest bits of hand- the great question of Oriental and Occidental relation- any recent writer has achieved. Out of the inspirations ca drinking the Japanese have formed a cult called teaism, on the adoration of the beautiful. The Taoists claimed this e liquid jade” to be an-important ingredient of the eli tv. Okakura says that teaism is Taoism in disguise. Tea that most strongly binds Orient to Occident, for, so far, rsally has the heart of humanity met in that exhilarating writer, ve There is much of mere play in Okakura’s commending to us to | ties in what he calls the “cup of humanity,” nosway lessens its underlying strength. To get quickly significance of what he is trying to make us understand, e a single sentence: “The beginning of the twentieth cen- 1 have been spared the spectacle of sanguinary warfare if ia had condescended to know Japan better.” It would not be to object here by saying that Russia drinks tea. She mixes too | ch of vodka spirit and of the spirit of vodka with her tea. If we ' 1d fully grasp the true spirit of teaism as this brilliant and playful Japanese idealizes it, the mutual misunderstanding of the New World and the Old.” In-| cidentally it may be mentioned that the ladies should be told, es- pecially the entertainers of diplomats, that Luwuh, the poet who wrote “The Holy Scripture of Tea,” says the color of the cup should be blue, and that after the third boiling a little cold water should be put in the kettle “to restore the youth of the water.” i S s trint ey MAY BE A SEA FIGHT. F the dove of peace have been cooing around the Straits of l Sunda she would better fly away and be at peace elsewhere, and give up her place to the stormy petrel. The Russian fleet of forty-seven ships of all kinds is supposed to be trying to break into | the Chifia Sea by that route, and Admiral Togo is floating around there waiting for it to get within range: It is a singular fact that while the strength of the Russian feet | is fairly well known, none of the naval experts know the strength in ships or guns of the fleet of Togo. There have been reports of the raising. repairing and arming of several of the Russian ships that were sunk around Port Arthur, and of the putting out of commis- sion of some of the Japanese ships, but there is no certain knowl- edge about these things. The great advantage of Togo lies in the experience of his officers and men. They have steamed and fought for a year, and back of that was their experiencz in the Chinese war, when they made rubbish of first-class battleships. though com- manded by German experts. This experience counts for much and will go far to equalize Toga's strength if his flect be inferior to that cf Rojestvencky. But few of the Russian officers and perhaps none - we could comprehend how it would tend to | prevent a continuation of the harm which has been done already “by | L/THE CALL PRINTS MORE NEWS THAN ANY OTHER PAPER IN SAN FRANCISCO N justification of the claim that THE CALL prints more news than any other paper in San Francisco; our readers are, invited to a comparison of | _ the three morning papers, CALL, Chronicle and Examiner, for the week|*— beginning Sunday, April 2, and conciuding with the issue of Saturday, April 8. During this period The Call published 179, the Chronicle 138 and the Examiner 73 foreign news items. The' Call printed 308 Eastern news items, the Chronicle 229 and the Examiner 186.. The Call printed 388 coast- news items, the Chronicle 251 and the Examiner 136. The Call printed 384 inches of marine news, the Chronicle 328 and the Examiner 372. Of real estate news The Call printed 238 inches, the Chronicle 107 and the Examiner 70. Of society news The Call printed 119 inches, Chronicle 113 and Examiner 83. The Call devoted 50 inches of its space to theatrical news, the Chronicle 77 and the Examiner 53. Of labor news The Call printed 27 inches, the Chronicle overlooked this important matter of news entirely, while the Examiner devoted 23 inches to the same class of news. It will be observed from the above figures that The Call leads, with the Chronicle second, while the Examiner publishes least news of ‘any of the three morning papers published in.San Francisco. The reading public of San Fran- cisco are buying and paying for news and The Call lays claim to their patronage on the fact, which cannot be controverted, that it publishes more news than any of its contemporaries, and in a manner which must appeal to the entire community. The Call's make-up s superb, and the news is presented in a| 'manner unsurpassed, while its illustrations are recognized by all as equal to the The Call is glad to state that its already large circulation is being added to rapidly and its largeiy patronized advertising columns reflect the high esteem in which it is held as an advertising medium by intelligent best in America. advertisers. L of it men have ever bezn in s fight ship and skilled gunnery, coolness and grit count. Considering the number of ships that may engage in this battle it will be the greatest sea fight in history. The Spanish Ar- mada was greater in number of ships and crews, but the storm de- stroyed most of them.” At the Straits of Sunda or soime other gate- way to the China Sea will be fought, in all probability, another of the world’s decisive battles. Secretary Shaw’s Presidential boom is just about banquet size.—Balti- more Sun. ———— Commissioner Garfield finds the Beef Trust octopus is a soft-shell crab.— Houston Chronicle. Russia does not need a new commander-in-chief, but a new govern- ment.—Cleveland Leader. | SUPERSTITION AND SPRING LOVE Before Engagement the Young Maid Is Most Sus- | ceptible to Sentimental Fear. ' - L BY DOROTHY FENIMORE. { — HE girl who puts a four-leafed clover in her shoe does it “just for fun,” of course, but she eyes with interest the first man she; meets thereafter. . She who plucks the petals of a daisy knows there is noth- ing reliable in the response of this modern oracle, yet she blushes if it | answers as she wants to have it, and | is utterly miserable if it doesn’t. | She is mightily pleased if she finds | one fork too many at her place at ta- | ble, or if, acting as bridesmaid, she | catches the bride’'s bouquet. And when she laughingly refuses to take the last piece of bread on the plate she is, in her secret heart, as sincerely afraid of hoodoo as she was in her days of frocks and amber beads, when she would walk for blocks without stepping on a single crack in the sidewalk; wiser than her indiscreet ancestress, Mrs. Eve of Eden park, she does not care to take any unnecessary chances. But, note this, it is before her en- | gagement that she is most suscepti- ble to this kind of sentimental fear, which is in its nature essentially fem- inine. Afterward, when her future is | “settled,” according to the popular es- timate, she enters into 2 new estate of doubt and dread. very like to that in which the masculine lover dwells. She is at the uncertain mercy of the weather. The wind plays an Aeolian tune upon her heartstrings. If she has not seen her fiance since day before yesterday she may shiver like a neurotic child because the sun goes momentar behind a cloud. If the morning is dark and she bas had a quarrel with him the evening be- marking about the misery of absence from the one beloved: What fantastic woes, Rage in eack thought, by restless musing fed, fore, she feeis 'as' woe-begone ~as.| Chill the warm chock, a0 Bast the Hirce ot Tennyson’s Mariana of the Moated life. Grange. If he has neglected to write| ‘For my part, I think that unless a | her while away on a business trip, even the strains of “Sweet Violets,” ground out by a hand organ, will af- | fect her spirits like a coranach. What fond and wayward thoughts will slide | into a lover's head | Observes Wordsworth in a poem which celebrates the superstitious mood of a lover who is sure that the lady he loves has died because he sees the moon drop out of sight behind her | house as he draws near. And Thom- #on, in his “Seasons,” expresses a simi- lar idea in his poem on “Spring,” re- |4 lover deliberately seeks to emulate the small boy who, at one move, cnols off his summer temperature and enjoys a squirm by dropping a pfece of ice down his neck, he had. better trust with simple faith the love which he has received in.exchange for the love which he has given. He. is wise if he laughs at.the folly of foreshadowing ill, if he gives super- stition the mitten, if he joins the cheerful division of that band of prohhets who ‘“make their predictions after the event.” §oe A FREE WITH NEXT SUNDAY’S CALL THE FLOWER GATHERING S. GALKIN, the great Russian artist, is the painter of the I. to be given by The Call to its readers as an art supplement. This picture will doubtless prove to be a very popular one, as all fine pictures of little children are greatly admired. The artist has produced a beautiful picture of a lovely child, whose face is beaming with delight over the wealth of pretty flowers which she has been gathering and with which her arms are filled. The expression of delight in the child’s face, the natural pose.as she holds her great bunch of flowers and the beautiful form and coloring of the flowers themselves all go to show that the picture was produced by a master hand. Paste this description on back of picture for reference. next)picture Tn action.ih: handling of a § | earliest times. Jenny, if you'll marry me, 3 { e A GEORGIA PROPOSAL. | My thanks I will express; Ten pounds of snuff I'll give to thee, An’ a spotted caliker dress. A ring that's guaranteed fer gold— That glistens in the sun; A mule that isn't 4-year-old Fer you to ride upon. A house that has a kitchen fine, Where you can bake the bread, An’ a heart as true as yer eyes of blue, ! To love you, till I'm dead! i —Whitsett (Ga.) Courier. | foolishness! AN ANGEL UNAWARES BY KATE M. CLEARY. HE April downpour was at its flercest when the knock came to the kitchen door. It was a timid knock—so timid that Nan stood with knife suspended over the pan of apples she was paring, thinking her im- agination might have played her a trick. It came again—low, entreating. The girl. crossed. to the door and opened it. “Good land!” she cried. “Come in! You poor little soul, whoever you are, come in!” And out of the blinding rain she caught the little black, shrink- ing figure and whirled it into the warmth and spicy scent of the big kitchen. She stood and looked at her unex- pected . visitor, her gaze a curious blending of amazement and compas- sion. . Such a frail, old figure of a woman! bonnet, -all were dripping rain, from the stiff jet spirals ornamenting the bonnet to the hem of the poor skirt. And the face that looked up at Nan, dumb and beseeching, was childishly pathetic in its wistfulness. The woman held a worn bag clutched in one hand. ingly, “I got caught in the rain!" Nan threw back her head and laughed a girlish laugh, crisp and in- fectious, and the shriveled countenance of-the intruder relaxed into a smile. “Pardon me,” cried Nan, controlling herself. “Only it -was so evident you had not been under shelter the last hour that I couldn’t help laughing. Here, sit down in this rocker near the stove!” She deftly unpinned the soak- /ing shawl and removed the pulpy bon- nét. “Dear, dear!” she exclaimed, ‘“‘you've no rubbers on! And your feet are dripping! You're just a bundle of wetness! Whatever will I do with you?" She spoke with the air of solicitude she might have used toward a child. Nan was only 17, but she had many burdens on her shoulders, and she bore them with courage. A year ago then she had graduated from the high school,” the hope that she might go to college was strong within her. But her aunt and cousin had condemned her desire and derided her ambition. There was no money to spare for such There was work to be done at home! The latter fact the girl was given no opportunity to doubt. .The maid of all work had been dismissed the week of her graduation, and Nan had been in- stalled in her place. And silently, but with flerce inward rebellion, she ac- cepted her duties. But her father had been a man of letters, and a professor in a university, and she had inherited his love of learning. Suv 1t was with a heavy heart she saw the days slip- ping by and with them the time she would fain have given to the acquire- TAX ON BACHELORS. Another one of the surprisingly old | projects that has recently cropped out | again is the proposed tax on bachelors, | says the Cleveland News, . The idea is gray with age and as far as effective- ' ness in the correction of evils is con- cerned is about as inefficient as it is old. Bachelors, as candidates or pro- bationers for marriage, have formed ' the subject for legislation from the Penalties have often been imposed on male celibates in va- rious countries. In proportion as the interests of the state were regarded as above those of the individual, the en- sthe liquor. and tried to rise. forcement of marriage was the more | severe. In ancient Sparta it was con- | sidered a punishable crime not to mar- ! Ty or to marry too late in life. In Athens, though not severely punished, celibacy was discouraged in early times. H At Rome marriage was fostered by ' positive penalties imposed on unmar- ried men and sometimes even on wom- en, as well as by discrimination in | favor of heads of familles. In the al- lotment of the Campanian lands by Julius Caesar portions were given only to the fathers of three or more chil- dren. Under Augustus d law was en- | acted prohibiting unmarried persons below the age of 60 in men and 50 in | women from taking possession of a | legacy, and this was applied even to | widows, who, in order to secure their part of their deceased husband's es- tates, were forced to marry again with- in a period of two years. There are numerous instances in | Geat Britain of taxes being imposed upon bachelors and widows. with a view of increasing revenue, however, rather than for any other object. In France, where the question .of depopu- lation has been of such serious moment as to threaten the very position of the state among the great powers of Eu- rope, frequent attempts have been mads to impose taxes on bachelors, but with little or no success. TOUCHING GLASSES. Fred Gitz, the Astoria cooper, says: “In the old country we were brought up to the habit of touching glasses with the understanding that to do so is necessary to complete the round of the five senses. For instance, in drink- ing a glass of beer, we can see it, taste it, feel it and smell it, but cannot hear it. Therefore, to reach the other sense, that of hearing, we make the clink."— New York Pres: HIS USUAL STUNT. “Near,” said the melancholy wife, “if you die first you will wait for me there on that far shore, won't you?” “I guess s0,” replied her husband, wearlly. “T've alwaye had to wait for you everywhere 1 go."—Philadelphia Press. ¥ AN OPTINIST, | i ‘“‘Yes, sir,” said the Billville citizen, | ways had as little sense as the law al- | ment of further knowledge. To-day many bidden tasks still remained to be accomplished, and here was this for- lorn. creature on her hands! “I'm sure I'm sorry to be making you trouble, my dear,” piped up the plaintive old voice. “If when after I'm rested a bit you'll be telling me my direction, I'll be moving on.” But suddenly she went ghastly white. She caught her hand sharply to her side, -and her lips turned blue. “Here,” cried Nan, “take this!” She had gone for a stimulant, and was back, holding it pressed to the twitch- ing mouth. The old woman swallowed “'Sit still!” commanded Nan. “You're ill;- you mustn't stir!" Nan stood before her, tall and slen- der in her blue cotton gown, with a big white apron belted in at her waist. The pure pallor of her skin was ac- cented by the blackness of her brows and lashes.. Her gray eyes were wide with perplexity. ““Wait a minute!” she ordered, and went flashing up the back stairs. She reappeared with a load of garments over her arm.. “You're such a mite of a thing the clothes that I've outgrown will fit you,” she said. “Your bag? Here it {s—safe behind you! There!" She worked rapidly as she talked. “Now you're dry and comfortable any- how, if you do look funny.” The old woman smiled up at her gratefully. She did look funny iIn the schoolgirl gown of red. But the color had come into her cheeks, and her chilled feet were growing warm in the dry stockings and slippers. “Now, TI'll make you some tea and toast,” declared Nan, hanging the wet clothes to dry. *“And then I must get The plain black cnhmere; gown, the thin shawl, the close little' 'I,” faltered the stranger deprecat- ( “And that—who is that per- son?” ever were to remember me, I'd—" “Go to college, I presume!" Helena contemptuousl; “Yes, that I would rejoined Nan resolutely. “There’s no hope of that,” she sighed. “Now, try to eat a few mouthfuls of this and drink your tea.” Helena stared from her cousin to the strange guest and back again. “Do you mean to say you've gone out of your head, wasting good food on a tramp?” she shrieked. “Hush!"™ begged Nan, trembling with mortification. “You will hurt her feei- “Feelings, indeed!” She glared at the stranger. “The rain is over now. She can go about har business.” Nan stood before her cousin. “She is sick and cold. She can’t go out of the house to-night. Let her sleep in my bed. I'll make up a shakedown on the cot.” Then, hurriedly, as she saw angry refusal in the other’s eyes, “Don’t make me leave you, if you value my work!"” “What do you mean?” “Only that Mrs. Hunter across the street has offered me $10 a week as housekeeper in her home. I would have no more labor there than here, where I am paid nothing. And I shall accept her offer to-day if you make me turn this poor old creature out!™ “Well, I declare!” ejaculated Miss Burnet. But aware that Nan was quite capable of doing what she threatened she made a tempestuous exit from the kitchen. Overcoming her apologetic objections, Nan assisted the old wo- man up the stairs. On the second floor they paesed a bright room, hung with rosy chintzes, with a jolly fire rollick- ing in the grate. “L wish T might take you in there ™ she whispered. ‘“‘But that is intended for Mrs. Franklyn, wao is coming to stay here. You shall have her chicken broth, though,” said the girl determin- edly. “‘She can’t need it any more than you do. And when she had tucked the feeble body into her own narrow bed she brought the chicken broth. But that nighit when the dishes were washed the girl climbed to her room. She found her protege very ill. She was feverish and the pain in her side was worse. Occasionally she lapsed into delirium. Nan was frightened, and, as the wo- man grew worse, she sped down the stairs and across the street for Dr. Meeker. “Pneumonia,” he said. “Exposure, eh? I thought so. Practically hope- less. What's that, eh?” You want a lawyer?” He bent to listen. “Poor =oul, what have you to will?" “John Meeker,” she panted, you know me?” “I'm young Dr. Meeker. John Meeker is my father. I'm trying to be as good a man. If I can build up his practice that had fallen off I hope to make a home for this little girl here.” The old woman smiled and nodded. “You'll get me a lawyer, maybe, if you know that I am Ellen Franklyn. ended “don't back to—good gracious, my cake is burning!” She was on her knees in a. minute! and had snatched the oven door wide open. A smoking, blackened mound confronted her. And, as ill luck would have it, at that very moment Helena Burnet, her cousin, and mistress of the house owing to the invalidism of Mrs. Burnet, came sailing into the kitchen. “What's this?” she cried sharply. She was in street attire. but had been well protected from the storm. “Your cake ruined! And that—who is that per- son"" Her cheeks scarlet from embarrass- ment and the heat of the oven, Nan was hastily removing the cake. H “She’s an old lady who got caught in the shower,” the girl explained ner- ! vously. “Did Aunt Ellen come, Hel- ena?”’ ““No, she didn't!” snapped Helena. “I've waited in that draughty depot| until T am nearly sick. I suppose youl made that chicken broth the way mother says she used to like it?" i “‘Yes, and the little honey hearts, too.” “You've got the spare room all ready. I dare say?” “Yes. It's clean, and I lit the fire half an hour ago.” “Such a lot of trouble and expense to go to for a foolish old woman,” grum- bled Miss Burnet. “‘Mother says she al- “the hurricane blowed his house down, | Jows. But that doesn't alter the fmf but the weather was mighty cold, and | that she is coming to spend her few re. Providence was good to him after all.” | maining vears with us and that she “How do you figure that out?" “Well, his house was split to kindlin' | land here to-morrow, and we'll have ‘wood, all ready to burn, an’ he made a big fire an’ shouted ‘Halleluia!’ "—At- lanta Constitution. : King Frederick Augustus of Sax- ony. on his ascension to the throne, has $60,000 to leave. T suppose she will this bother all over again. Well, I'll spend a hundred dollars on mourning for her when I inherit it!" “She will never leave me 2% any .Mu.” averred ‘Nanay r win. “My . did not to her, and Aunt proclaimed an amnesty for all minor | e s offenses except that of cruelty to an- | Ellen never 've her. But—" brisk- imals. | 1y but some fresh toast—“if she No! Don’t call the others. Helena is like her mother—cold and selfish. 1 heard her for myself to-day.” The physician did what he could and hastened away. His experienced eye told him she had been ill several days and that the exposure of the afterncon was hastening the climax. The lawyer returned with him, and the household was aroused. The old woman chuckled, exhausted, but tri- umphant as she fell back after signing the will. “I've left Helena $100 to buy that mourning she was so set on!” she whispered. “You ean &et your learn- ing whilst he's making the home for you. 'Twas the fine fellow his father was, I mind well!™ And not all the wrath or lamenta- tions of Helena Burnet and her mother availed to impeach the validity of the will, which left the property of Ellen Frankiyn to Naney Goodwin. “T shan't hold you to your promise now, dear,” Charlie Meeker said, when he came to see the girl off to the uni- versity. “You are an heiress now. { Everything is difterent.” “That isn’t different!” she replied with emphasis. stop loving me now that I am going to fit myself to be a wife of whom you may be proud.” He smiled down at her. “My dear, my dear,” he said, prince might be proud of you! the train!™ (Copyright, 1905, by Kate M. Cleary.) ———————— Townsend's Cala. Glace Fruits, in ar- tistic fire-etched boxes. 10 Kearny st. * —————— “a Here's