The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 25, 1905, Page 6

DECEMBER THE SAN FRANCISCOCALL, . Proprietor JOHN D. SPRECKEILS........ ALL COMMI REETS, SAN FRANCISCO | CATION OFF ND MARKET ST DECEMBER 25, 1903 MONDAY . ittt b i i e THE CHEER OF CHRISTMAS. THER holidays get perverted. The Fourth of July is not O always consecrated to patriotism, nor Decoration day to solemn reflection and ascription to the heroic dead.” Even the weekly Sabbath holiday is grotesquely wrenched from its pur- pose and made the occasion of unseemly indulgence and often riot. But Christmas is the day of cheer. It is still the Merry Christmas of all lands where it is kept. In its bright atmosphere of good cheer and good will the sorrowing forget their woes, the dis- ged their despair, the tired their weariness and the weak their nbling It brings into its illumination all the sentiment that is around thening daj The winter solstice over. The shadow 1as been upon morning and evening is shortening and the i is longer upon the earth. Where the snow lies and locked in frost there is the promise of a resurrection shall be made glad again by the sight of the green and thronghout the physical environment there is yring and summer to come, with their renewal of time and harvest. is proper that this air of cheer and hope shall be associated, reat promises of spiritual renewal that were made zareth, which teach that man is never to despair e without hope. If the shadows are upon him there is a moral olstice that he may pass into a longer day and more in- season no one is outlawed from that cheer which | 1gs to the day. The purse strings of the rich are cut by human | the man is rarely known who can take cheer him- having it heightened by the knowledge that all the cheerful with him. Men find their own pleasures made enjoyable by what they have done to bring pleasure to others, so there is a great companionship that fellowships all classes conditions with each other and makes the day a merry Christ- | as It is a day of peace on earth and good will toward men iericans observe it to-day with especial grace and fervor because country has been instrumental in making peace and stopping most fearful war of all the ages. Wherever the day is observed Iness and spirit the thoughts of men turn to this republic aind see over its name the Christian legend, “Blessed are the peace- rakers.” May we always deserve the ascription to which our Presi- | has given us title. The holiday season finds our land favored vith plenty and peace and in a spirit of good will to all the world. it never break the peace of God among men, but remain the vorld’s peacemaker rather than the world’s peacebreaker. We Californians are far separated from our kin and country- Deserts and mountains divide us from them, and while the den May en. brief but lengthening day is here saluted at its beginning by the f A flow ncense s that bloom unsmitten by winter they are shiver- blast and cold, yet the day’s cheer is upon all. In the abundance of our good feeling we wish that all the vorld were here, or that upon it were the same winterless bloom | garlands our Christmas and the balm that makes even poverty | hter and hardship less and the day’s cheer brighter. May friends f es everywhere greet and hail in the spirit of the day and ter lessons nowhere be forgotten in the material enjoyment | ing in ti POSSIBLE ECONOMY OF INSURANCE. social joys that so become it. ORKINGMEN'S insurance has been adopted as a part of W their business system by seventy American corporations, all of which are highly pleased with the results. Four mdred more are seriously considering putting such a plan in operation. The immense and extravagant expense accounts of our insurance companies, if not promptly reduced, will probably foster the growth of such method of insurance. To what'a large extent retrenching of the cost of this protection is possible is forcibly brought out in a paper written by Frank A. Vanderlip, formerly sistant Secretary of the Treasury under Gage, and now vice esident of the National City Bank of New York. In his article, | which is published in the North American Review, he points out that the expense of administration of workingmen’s insurance in Germany is only g per cent. Z The introduction of the German system into this country is not advocated by Vanderlip, but he believes the study of it would be very useful to us for the purpose of getting suggestions of im- provement of our methods. Perhaps the chief thing for us to con- sider is the astonishingly small cost of German administration. I'hat small expense is not only astonishing when considered by itself, but it makes appear absurdly unreasonable the comparativ'e extravagance of the expense accounts of American insurance. It will be remembered that recent investigation showed that in one of our big companies, making a specialty of industrial insurance, the expense of administration actually exceeded the amount of benefits returned to the people. Surely the American figures, when confronted with the German evidence of what is honestly practi- | cable, give proof of one or two alternatives—either a most greedy selfishness on the part of the controllers, or an unpardonable lack of financial ability to manage affairs of such great importance to the laboring people’s welfare. A slight difference might be tole- rated, but the enormity of the extent of an expense of over 100 per cent when g per cent has been proved a possibility of economic administration is enough to justify the struggling American work- ers to make an outcry for a better showing of returns for the hard earned savings they invest in insurance. In making his study Vanderlip held a very extensive cor- respondence with firms and corporations both in Germany and in this country. The Germans, while pleased with their own system, did not advise it for America, as they thought we were®naturally too individualistic to be suited by their method of semi-govern- mental insurance. The American correspondence showed that the corporations which had adopted some plan of insuring their em- ployes found it desirable, not merely from philanthropic considera- tions, but as an enlightened business policy, inducing permanency of employes, raising the standard of work and workmen, and pre- venting the waste of energy and savings in side speculations by which the workmen otherwise seek to provide for old age or iliness. THE PRESS OF THE NATION. A magazine article by Mr. Zimmerman, giving full particulars of the little scheme by which he put J. Pierpont Morgan $6,000,000 to the bad, would be sure of ready acceptance at his own price.—Chicago Tribune. PR T Ve Among the tremendous possibilities of future wars is that there is likely to be a regiment of rough riders composed exclusively of name- sakes of Colonel Theodore Roosevelt.—Chicago Tribune. —_—_— One of the best purifiers is whitewash. It is good for anything from 2 damp cellar to 2 tainted politician or an inlsurance grafter.—New York Press. —_— By abolishing free transportation the railroads will' sidetrack some politicians who are deadheads in more than one sense.—Baltimore Sun. . ; A stranger might imagine that the red flag was the national standard of Russia just now.—New York Evening Sun. PR BT o It is easier to be rich than to be happy: but nobody ever got any satis- faction out of that thought.—New York Press. OUR TRIUMPH OVER OLGA 'A, Little Story of the Christmas Spirit BY WILLIAM HAMILTON OSBORNE. i ref-F-Fuse em® she onssented B - %+ l POISED my pencil above our Christ- mas lst. “Well,” T queried. “what shall we give to Olga?” i The young and beautiful and be- witching partner of my poverty clicked her teeth together and thought about it. A “Well” she said slowly, “it seems to me that we might give her handker- chiefs.” I wrote it down. “Handkerchiefs;” T repeated genially, as if it were a settled thing. “What do you thing about it?’ con- tinued the missus, trying to involve me | in an argument. “] think handkerchiefs,” I answered. “And,” concluded she, “a box of writ- ing paper.” “The very thing," I joyfully assented. And I scribbled it down at once. “You can give her the-writing pa- ' announced the head of the house . “and I shall give her the hand- erchiefs.” “The best possible arrange could be made,” I murmured. ment that This was some four Christmases ago. Olga, | our proposed donee, was worthy of our gifts. We had run across her the summer before in Hungary. There she was doing the work of four girls | for the princely price of two dollars and a half per month. We brought her to America and paid her ten. Prior to that, out of our limited income, we had been paying twenty. But now the arrangement was highly satisfactory. Olga was richer and so were We: We| i i.ke of last year, so we just brought saved ten dollars every month and our Mercedes did not seem quite so far away, after all. Olga was grateful and very satisfactory. And if our faces beamed with .the Christmas spirit when I gave her the writing pa- per and Molly gave her the handker- chiefs I am quite sure that hers beamed also; she must have felt that it was, indeed, more blessed to receive than to give. “Jah,” she cried; “but I should write so many letters! I should wipe mine nose so many times! Jah, soch a moch to geef me!” Molly’'s mother and father came around and my father and mother came around, and my aunts and Molly’s aunts, and Molly's friends and my friends, and to all of them Olga glee- fully exhibited her Christmas favors. “Zee,” she cried, “I should blow mine nose like dees!” And she suited the action to the word. “Olga’s very noisy with her toys, said Molly's father after this perform. ance. OLGA’S FIRST GIFTS. ‘Well, that was our first Christmas with Olga and the handkerchiefs and paper and our gifts were the only gifts that she received on that occa- sion, but as time went on Olga en- deared herself to all our relatives. “Such = good girl!” they would cry, while Molly and I dwelt upon her merits. Virtue is not always its sole reward. The following Christmas we Kept up the cus- tom of making presents to our Hungarian honey, as we called her. This time we arranged Olga’s gifts after this fashion: Molly presented writing paper. I presented handkerchiefs. “It is very nice,” Olga sald soberly when we handed out the goods. She paused a bit uncertainly. “Some day,” she said, brightening up, “maybe for Chreestmas some one geef me dollar. So—" She was interrupted by the advent of Molly’s parents. They were loaded down with presents. The first thing (they did was to charge down upon Olga. “Olga,” said Molly's mother, *‘you were so delighted last year at what you got that I have brought you this.” She passed over a box, Molly’'s father, with the em- barrassment under which man labors when he gives away presents that his wife has bought, produced another box. He thrust it hastily into Olga’s hands. “M’ry Christmas,” he- mumbled, and backed out. I heard Olga breathe softly to herself. ““Maybe it should be a dollar,” she was whispering. But she was mistaken. Mol- 1y's father had brought her a fine box of writing paper—more box than paper, by the way; and Molly’s mother had shed some handkerchiefs upon her like a Christmas benediction. Olga accepted these blessings silently. Just as it was all over my father and mother turned up. Olga, thinking that she saw dollars in their beaming faces, turned expectant- ly to them. But they had come empty handed so far as Olga was concerned. And so had my aunts, it seemed. “Next Christmas, "’ they told us, “we will give Olga something, too.” But Christmas and the Christmas holl- days were not yet over, and Olga was determined to instill into us a ‘few card- inal precepts. g “That girl nex' »'" she advised us at dinner, “she all of feefty cent. Yoost tink."” 5 OLGA TALKS OF MONEY. We thought. Olga did the talking &irl, “‘An’;"" she continued, gently, “odder . ity dees side, get seefnty-fife, jah.” This was but the beginning. Olga was no short sport. All through the year she pleaded with us for our conversion, as a far off missionary might with a refractory Hot- tentot. And finally the third Christmas came around. “We'll have to give her money” I whis- | pered to my better haif. “Nothing of the sort’ bridled she; “it will only spoil hér. What we give her is plenty good enough.” “What is it to be this time?’ I asked. “The same,” said Molly. “No,” I cried, “‘we’d better not. Some ;one else will be doing the same thing. Remember last year.” “It is last year that I'm remembering,” she answered, “and that's just the rea- son why. The others remember, too. Ang this time nobody will give her paper and handkerchiefs. And we're going to. They are nice presents, and Olga uses them. She writes a good deal.” “That's true,” 1 assented, ‘“and she blows a jot, teo. Well, let it go.” It went. But on this third Christmas, in order not to evoke any unusual. discussion with Olga as to the propriety of financial offerings, we agreed that we would wait until Molly's parents and mine and my aunts should all get in, and then that all the presents should be handed to Olga at once, in bewildering array. We waited. We put ours on a chair and arranged that the others should go on top of them. It was to be Olga’s little Christmas pile. “Well, said Molly’s mother, coming in, “I just knew that no one would be giving Olga handkerchiefs and paper after our them along this time again, so that poor Olga would not miss the gifts she likes so much,” They laid their presents on the chair. Then my mother and father ar- rived. “After the double-up that occurred last Christmas,” they announced, “we thought—" They laid handkerchiefs and paper ‘on the chair. Ny aunts came in. “Did you bring handkerchiefs and paper for Olga?’ I genially inquired. “Yes,” they answered doubtfully, “did anybody else?"’ “Thank heaven!"” cried Mollie and myself, throwing our youthful figures into ecstasy of delight; “Olga will have at least one box of paper and one box of handkerchiefs. We were so afraid,” we added, “that she wouldn't.” ANGER SEIZES OLGA. Olga was brought in. She set to work upon her little pile. May be dol- lars,” I heard her whisper. For she had labored with us for so long. At the end of three minutes I saw her, out of the corner of my eye, turn swiftly and walk stifiy back into the Kitchen, empty handed. I could hear her, through closed doors, slowly, but de- terminedly, tearing the furniture apart. Back in the room where we were pan- demonium reigned for a short space of time. Our guests glanced upon the chair. “Why, did you give her—" ventured one. . “Why—why—" gasped another. “Why—" teebly said a third. “There are enough letter sheets here,” sald my father, “for fifty breach of promise cases.” “There are enough handkerchiefs,” sald Molly’s parent, going him one bet- ter, “‘for one good cold in the head.” Well, we left them on the chair, There ‘was nothing else to do. “Olga will come and get them after a while,” Molly ex- plained. i But Olga did not come and get them. She left them there all that day, all that week. Finally Molly took the initiative and carried them, chair and all, into Olga’s bedroom while Olga ,was down stairs in the kitchen. This broke Olga’s inactivity into little bits of pieces. One evening I came home and tried to open my bureau drawer to get a necktle. It would not open. “What's the matter with this drawer?” 1 cried. Just then it came open with a rush. Inside T found my tie, yes, and other things besides. What? Well, for instance, four boxes of variegated writ- ing paper; yes, and four boxes of new handkerchiefs. “Molly,” I called weakly. Molly came. She rushed to Olga. ““Olga,” she asked, “why did you do this?” ! TIRES OF THE MEASLY PAPER. Olga sniffed, I was informed. ““I don't want no measly paper,” she replied, in- troducing an Americanism into her speech, “I don’'t want no two-fer hand- kerchiefs,” another bit of colloquialism. She smashed the table with her Hunga- rian hand. “I should have only dollars for my Chreestmas, you zee!” Her argument was unanswerable. I think Molly was actually impressed. For Molly came back to me with doubt shin- ing in her eyes. “‘Really,” her money next year. I'm sure she talks about us to the neighbors now. I don't | nee what else we m do m year.” 5 1 took Molly by I said, ‘‘heretofore you've had your say about Christmas presents, haven't you? Well, now, I'll tell you something. I'll dictate the terms of peace. Next Christ- mas I'm going to arrange our presents to Olga, the presents of your parents to Olga, the presents of my parents to Olga, the presents of my aunts to Olga. You watch and see.” . It was fortunate for us that Olga was not popular with the surrounding ser-| vants. Most of them were Irish. If Olga | could have really mixed in she would have been spoiled for us as a servant. But they said little to her and she said little to them, and her information as to Christmas presents was gathered from their Christmas shouts across the lawns. | Olga was a good servant to us, and I be- i lieve that she was attached jo us, for her | only grumbling time was Christmas time. I made up my mind, however, that she had grumbled once too often. ‘When I issued my ultimatum referred to 'aboyve Molly smiled. “What are we all to give Olga next year?" she queried. 1lit a cigar. ‘“Handkerchiefs,” I snort- ed; “writing paper—that’s what. You wait and see.” And the fourth Christmas came in time. And, under my leadership, my attacking | forces gathered in our little drawing- room. Each was provided with ammuni- tion adequate for all purposes. “Call Olga,” I commanded, much as an- | other man might say, “Shoulder—humph.” | Olga was called with military precision. We advanced upon her in double quick | time. “Olga,” we shouted deliriously, hold- ing out before us our wrapped up boxes that we carried, “here, merry Christ- | mas! Happy New Year! Hooray.” Olga looked. She turned up her nose in disdain. *“You meannesses,” she cried, “to treat a poor girl like this. 1| will not take none of them presents. | Hendkchefs,” she exploded, “writin’ pepper. Bah.” 1 stepped up ahead of the ranks. “Do I understand, Olga,” I said coldly, “that you refuse these presents that we of- fer you?” SPURNS THE PRESENTS. “I ref-f-f-f-use 'em,” she assented. “1 sp-p-pit upon 'em.” “Very well,” 1 answered. I turned to Molly's father. “Mr. Kriss Kingle,” I cried to him, “‘unlimber; open up that box.” He opened it. In it there was noth- ing; that is, nothing much. Only a dol- lar bill; that's all. [ seized it. “I accept the gift that Olga spurns,” | I said. I made a signal with my hand and suddenly all the boxes opened. Alas, they were all innocent of paper and handkerchiefs. Three of them con- tained cheap, common, ordinary one- dollar bills, as had the first one. Two of them contained marked down two- dollar silver certificates. Then I opened mine. Mine was the limit. It | contained one of the most disreputable five-dollar notes that I have ever seen. I think probably a dozen people had been carrying it about in their pockets for weeks and month. I looked at Olga. For minutes she was paralyzed. Then she snivelled and held out her hand. “I'll take the presents,” she remarked. 1 waved my hand. “Not one cent of indemnity,” I an- swered, “and we won't even buy a half of Saghalian, Olga,” I thundered: “‘go and prepare our holiday feast. We've got our Christmas appetites on and are hungry as the deuce.” Two days later Olga told Molly titat she was sorry; that she had been a naughty girl, and that next Christmas she would be glad to take anything, even though it were solled writing pa- per and handkerchiefs to correspond. But it is the victor's privilege to be merciful. Next Christmas we're going to give her money, just because she hasn’t asked for it, and doesn’t expect it, and because she's good. And T'I _‘________———————’——“fi OCCIDENTAL ACCIDENTALS BY A. J. WATERHOUSE. i SRR R CHRISTMAS IN CALIFORNIA. HE Christmas love, the Christmas cheer, The smile on Christmas faces— Sweet efiurtl of the dying year S 11 its graces InTgn‘enurat:: 3ay whgern all shall stand On heights of peace together— And, best of, all, in our good land, The golden Christmas weather! So gleam the mistletoe on high, And see it not, ye maidens shy— A kiss is but a feather. To kisses, blisses, all the rest, Dame Nature here adds special zest— Our rgolden Christmas weather! Back yonder frost doth Santa nip What time his deer are flying, And, “Faith!” he cries, “this Christmas trip Is most exceeding trying”; . But here In bowers blossom-lined He stays, his steeds to tether; And, “Ah,” he vows, “nowhere I find Such golden Christmas weather!” So trip it lightly, trip it long, And let this one day be a song Our hearts do sing together; Ay, this one day for bliss lo_plot— And know ye well elsewhere is not Such golden Christmas weather. \The roses bud, the roses bloom— Let every heart be singing! A fig for care, with face of gloom, When all our world is ringing To songs of birds that come and go O’er sunshine-jeweled heather, Half mad to tell the bliss they~know In golden Christmas weather. So let the Christmas holly gleam, For love is all, and care’s a dream, And know ye joy together; And thank the God of peace and cheer For this, the gift he brings us here, Our golden Christmas weather! Now, then, children, sit down and don’t say anything unless you have something | to say—as so many of us grown people do—and we will have a nice little talk. It is almost Christmas day; and who is it who comes then? That's it; you are right; it is Santa Claus. It is funny how you guessed my conundrum the very first thing, isn’t it? Yes, of course. And what iIs it that Santa Claus brings to y6u? That's it—presents. You hit it right again; you are great guessers. That | is, he brings presents, except to thel poor little waifs and strays to whom no- body brings anything; and may the Lord help them, for none of the rest of us do— very much. And to whom does Santa bring the most presents? To the best little girls and| boys? I thought you would say that.| Did you say so because your papas and | mammas told you so? I thought that you | would say that you did—so you see that | I am a great guesser, too. | Now, I do not wish to say a word that| will cause you to think that your papas and mammas are mistaken, for, of course, they know more than anybody; but, just the same, I am going to tell you about tne | queer case of a little boy I once knew; and perhaps you can understand it, but| 1 do not. ‘This little boy was almost the homeliest little boy that ever happened, and, of course, he was not to biame for that. But I do claim that he was very| much to blame for exhibiting more kinds| financfally and otherwise injured and pained because his American father-in- law has allowed him but $220,000, or scarce- ly $500 a week, in the nine years he has been married.” “Yes, I noticed that in the papers. Poor devil; T am sorry for him." ‘I don’t see why vou should be sorry.” < “Don’t, hey? Well, don't you suppose it must be worth more than $00 a week to live with one who would trade her birti fof, right of title > American womanhobd NO CHRISTMAS GIFTS AT A My darling had more Christmas gifts Than I could pause to name— The Christmas toys of divers kinds Might put a store to shame— Books, dolls and balls, a score of gifts Whose names I scarce recall— The little waif upon the streets, He had no gifts at all! I'm very glad that love did plan My darling’'s happiness: Her chattered gladness in each gif# Doth still my spirit bless. In her rejoicing [ rejoic Nor is my pleasure small— Bat, oh, I'm sorry for the waif ‘Who had neo gifts at all. “I notice that in the recent siaughtes of, the Jews at Odessa Christians some- times fought side by side with the He- brews in their defense. That sort of thing of cussedness than any thirteen little | makes one proud of the Christians.” boys ought to possess if they expect to 80| “It need not. A genuine Christian to heaven, as all little boys should. His! could and would do nothing eise. life was one long, shocking fight with al- s most all the other little boys in town, and | SHE WAITED. in the few odd times when he was NOt| gne said “T wait for days of bliss fighting he generally was engaged in do-| yhen I shall know my true love's kiss, ing something else that you would blush | just to hear mentioned. Oh, he was a| ringed, streaked and striped convict from | Badboyville, this bad little boy was. Did Santa Claus bring this dreadful lit-| o¢ Jyring maids till eyes grow dim, tle boy any presents when CRristmas| porover I will wait for him'— came? That's right; all speak up at once And so shé waited. and say that, of course, he did not. It is natural that you should think so after what your papas and mammas have told | vou, but all the same, it is a surpris-| ing fact that you are mistaken. He was the worst boy in his school, and he got| the most Christmas presents! Now, how fi';ddhe ‘::“s::::x :";;‘."L'.‘a‘,’,; ‘;’:»uwn b you ¢ 2 s dauntless soul shal 3 ;m;xld you account for that? It knoecks; R N T i e You ask if this is a true story? You And so she waited. bet it is! How do I know? Well, it pains| At thirty-two she had a chance me to confess it, dear children. but I—| At something garbed In coat and pants And he must be a knight more leal Than songs of olden times reveal. No craven he, but stout of heart, | Yet well versed in the gentle art She waited. Weary years crept by, ‘And still no knight came strolling bys No hero to her side did roam— Somehow, the heroes stayed at home. But still she said: “For him I wait, * wager that when she gets it she’ll go out Christmas week and buy handkerchlefs and writing paper, too. And—whisper. We've just been down to pay the first installment on our big automobile. i DOC MENDENHALL'S JOKE. Doc Mendenhall had a load of sweet- ness to take out to Buxton on the stage last Friday. It was two married couples —Walter Hammond and May Scofield, L. E. Crawford and Amelia Genzer. The sunlight dazzled Doc's sight that day and he is sald to have struck every stump, run on to every side hill and into every chuckhole from here to Buxton. But he got them there, though he may lose the job of driving on their next wedding trip.—Forest Grove (Ore.) Times, Townsend's California glace frults cest candles in fire- well, one might as well be honest, and— that is—the fact is, I was that little boy. I should not have told you this story, dear children, if I had thought that you would ask me how I knew; but it is true, and 1 never have understood it, and I do not understand it, and I suppose that I never will. It makes me wonder and won- der about Santa Claus. Does it affect you in the same way? And, if not, how would you account for such a case? “I notice that a German Baron feels 3 & A LITTLE LEARNING. Father—I hope you learned some- _ thing at school to-day. Wil ure! I learned that the teacher Is (wice as strong as you. A FEW HOLIDAY SMILES It was no knight or hero bold: It had bow legs, a chromic cold: Tts talk was of the kind called “ga | But, oh, you should have seen her grad | To catch the thing ere it could flee, For she, as vou, of course, must see, Was tired of waiting! “His mother said that she intended t® make a saver of souls of him.” “Did she succeed?” “To a certain extent, yes. He became a shoemaker.” FREE ADVICE. Grafton—Doctor, what do you take for a cold?” Doctor—My fee. Nellie—How did you get into that horrible habit of picking your teeth, John? * John—Through having something to eat, prineipally.