The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 25, 1906, Page 8

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL, McClure Com- e streets of a cer- erate-sized in Mis hey have know re’s 3 man and ther is dead. Kansas, but ped here until without Can’t we fin he would help i ends that would re- en errand he in religious he steadily and per- ter years, to go , came home and would get 2 friend of mine anu sing the song for ntered the sick room, he leading Mr. Kent's face at once ather said to him: you this morning 1 song you gsked for, but t, and have come to Then, wav e said: children.’ id, and wher we had finished he and offered a prayer, not for the s recovery, but that he might trust in the Lord and meet death fegr. I have mever been more ig Lis hand gen.y toward pressed nor felt more confident resence of death, for the man i perfect courthouse, S ex- e he pushe forehead be allowed to seology and profound ded in inducing a fee quiet in all of his hea the a restfut stupor, from ‘Which all ag d wholly disappeared. When of the room had been ceased and retired slight commotion in jck woman, lilening, sank into v of denoted that the end neighbors came out, 1, it is all over, Mr. i he ex- great as L “No,” sald the other, “the Lord granted her request.’ %! she wouldn't,” he replied > s always answered he poor, the blind, the insane sufferers of all sorts are objects of keenest sympathies of hes out at the most unexpected mo- d rough exclamations, wever, contal note so ten- suggestive as defy transla- passing the lo ame upon a man be poor idiot with a whip. It was be a woodpile and the demented one w a2 moment Mr. White had b | ped o© of his conveyance, leaped over the ce and confronted the amazed attendant with an uplifted arm. ther lick!” he fairly shouted. you mean by striking an d the attendant, “I m to carry in the wood, and he t his place to bring in the put h for that. He's put here to be taken care of. I'll see about th The man endeavored to expla’ some work must be done by mates, and that this one was refractory. The only way he had of .mak him understand was by whipping him. old man Not another word,” the blustered, overawing the county hire- ling, who knew him well. “I'll see to th * and after scaring the man so badly that whips were thereafter care- fully concealed he proceeded to the county courthouse. Court was not in session, and only the clerk was present when he came tramping down the aisle, and 00d before the latter with his right hand uplifted in the position of one about to make oath. “Swear me.” he said solemnly, and without further explanation. “I want you to take this testimony under oath.” The clerk knew well enough the remark- able characteristics of his guest, whose actions wers only too often inexplicable from the ground point of policy and con- venlion. Without ado he got out Ink and paper and Mr. White began. “I saw,” he sald, “In the yard of the sunty farm a poor, helpless idiot, put in that institution by this county to be cared for, being beaten with a cowhide by Mark Sheffels, who is an attendant there, be- cause he did not understand enough to carry in wood, which the people are hired to do. Think of it,” he went on, quite forgetting he was speaking for dictation, and going off into g most searching ar- railgnment of the entire system in which such brutality could occur. The clerk, realizing his importance in the commu- nity, quietly followed in a deferential way, putting down such sallent features as he had time to write. When he was through he ventured to lift his voice in protest. “You know, Mr. White,” he said, “Shef- fels is a member of our party, and was appointed by us. Of course, now it's too bad that this thing should have happened, nd he ought to be dropped, but if you are going to make a public matter of it in this way it may hurt us in the election next month.” The old patriarch gazed at him almost without comprehension of 80 petty & view. “What!” he exclalmed. “What's that got to do with it? Do you want the Democratic party to starve the poor and beat the insane?” ‘Th. opposition was rather flattened by the reply, and left the old gentleman to storm out. He had purified the political atmosphere, as if by lgbtning, and with- in the month following the offending at- tendant was dropped Politics. however, have long known his influence in a very similar way.. There was a time when he was the chief politi- cal figure in the county, and possessed the gift of oratory beyond all his fellow- citizens. Men came miles to hear him, and he took occasion to voice his views on every important issue. It was his cus- tom to have printed, at his own expense, a few placards announcing his coming, which he himself would carry to the town selected and personally nail up. When the hour came, the crowd was never wanting. Personally 1 never knew how towering his figure had stood in the past uptil I drifted In upon a lone bachelor, who oc- cupied a hut some fifteen miles from the patriarch’s present home, and who s rather noted in the community for his love of seclusion and indifference to cur- rent events. He hed not visited the near- est neighboring village in something like five years, and had not been to the mod- erate-sized county seat in ten. Naturally he treasured memories of his younger days and more varied activity. “I don’t know,” he sald to me one day in discussing modern statesmen and poli- tical fame; “getting up in politics is a queer game. I can't understand it. Men that you'd think ought to get up don’t seem to. It doesn't seem to real great- ness that helps 'em along. ‘“What makes you say that?’ I asked. ‘““Well, there used to be a man over here at Danville that I always thought would get up, and yet he ¢idn't. He was the finest orator I ever heard.” “Who was he?” I asked. “Arch White,” he sald quietly. “He was really a great man. He was a good man. Why, many’s the time I've driven fifteen miles to hear him, I used to llke to go into Danville just for that reason. He used to be around there, and sometimes he’d talk a little. He could stir a fellow up” “Oratory alone won't make a states- man,” I ventured, more to draw him out than to object. “Oh, I know,” he answered. “But he was & good man. The plainest spoken fellow I ever heard. He seemed to be able to tell us just what was the matter with us. I've seen 2000 people up at High Hill hollerin’ over what he was saying until you could hear them for miles.” ‘“Why didn’t he get up, do you sup- o7’ “I dunno,” he answered. ‘‘Guess he was too honest. He was a mighty deterthined man, and one that would talk out in con- vention. Whenever they got to twisting TTFPOURS FCRITH SULH A VoLOPE or TACT ARD ARGUMERNRT things and doing what wasn’t just honest I suppose he'd kick out. Anyhow he didn’t get up and I've always wondered at it In Danville one hears other stories wholly bearing out this latter opinion, Thus a long, enduring political quarrel was once generated by an incident more important for what it revealed of the patriarch than for its natural detalls. A certain young man, well kiown to him, came to Danville one dsy and either drank up or gambled away a certain sum of money intrusted to him by his aunt for disposition in an entirely different man- ner. He was not too drunk when the day was all over to realize that he was in a rather serious predicament, and so rid- ing out of town, traveled a Ilittle way and then returned, complaining that he had been set upon by the wayside, beaten aad finally robbed. His clothes were in a 9 staje of dllapidation, and even his Sy bove marks which amply seconded his protestation. It was in the slush and raia of the dark village street that he was picked up by the County Treasurer, who, knowing the generosity of White and the fact that hiy door was always open to those in distress, even as for his own ohil- dren, took the young man by the arm, and accompanying him, led him to the patri- arch’s door, where he personally applied. In a few moments it was opened by this shaggy citizen in person, who held a lamp over his head and peered outward into the darkness. “Mr. White,” said the Treasurer, “it's me. I've got young Squiers here, who needs your aid and attention. He's been beaten and robbed out here on the road.” “Who?” asked the patriarch, stepping out and holding the lamp down so as to get a good look into the newcomer’s face. “Billy Squiers,” explained the Treasurer, “Can you give him ghelter?”’ “No, Morton,” he ex in his in- variably strong declamatory style, ‘Tl. not take this man into my house. I know him. He's a drunkard and & liar, No one has robbed him. This is all a pretense, a and I want you to take him away from here. Put him in the hotel. I'll pay his expenses for the night, but he can’t come in here.’ The Treasurer fell back amazed at this onslaught, but recovered sufficiently to declare that his friend was no Christian, and that true religion commanded other- e, “Don’t you quote Scripture to me,” he declaimed deflantly, at the same flourishing the lighted lamp in an oratori- “I know my Bible. There’ nothing In it requiring me to shield liars and drunkards.’ Nevertheless, the youth was housed and fed at his and the penalty of op- ition gen by this argument was e in silence for many a year. The crowning qualities of his mercles are their humor, HEven he is not una- ‘ware in retrospect of the flgure he made in some instances, and will tell under provocation of his peculiar attitude. Par- tially from himself, from those who saw it and the Judge presiding, was the fol- lowing characteristic anecdote gathered. In the community with him lived a cer- tain man by the name of Moore, who in his day had been an expert tobacco pick- er, but had come by an injury to his hand and so turned cobbler. Mr. White had known him from boyhood up, and had been a witness to his change of fortunes. At the time under consideration this for- mer tobacco picker had degenerated into Uncle Bobby Moore, and had picked up a few charitably inclined friends, with whom he spent the more pleasant portion of the year from spring to fall. It was his custom to begin his annual pligrimage with a visit of ten days to Mr. White, where he would sit and cobble shoes for all the members of the household. From there he would go to another acquaint- ance some ten miles farther on, when he would enjoy the early fruit which was ripening in delicious quantity. He would then visit a friendly farmer whose home was upon the Missourl River, where he did his annual fishing, and so on by slow stages; until at last he would reach a neighborhood rich in cider presses, where he would wind up the fall and end his travel for the winter. As he grew older, however, Uncle Bobby reached the place where even by this method he could not make enough to sus- tain him in comfort during the winter sea- son and he finally applied to the patri- arch. “I come to you, Mr. White,” he sald, *Decsuse I don’t think I can de for any lomger. My Band burts me deal. I wanf to know It y won't me fo get Into the county fargs"™ He went further and expla only wanted shelter during the incleme months, and that fn summer he prefefred to be out, so that he might visit his friends and enjoy his declining years. “Come right down here,” sald the old gentleman, seizing bim by the arm and leading off toward the courthouse, whe: the Judge governing such cases was then sitting. A trial was holding when he arrived there, but no matter. Down the alisle he led his charge, calling as he came: 1t d “Your Honor, I want you to hear this cas ‘Agape, the spectators Daused to listen, The Judgs, an old and appreciative friend, turned a grave and tender ey upon this Iatest eccentricity. v “What is i, Mr. White?" he inquired. “Your Homon,” he returned in his moet earnest and oratorical mannes, “this man here is an old and honorable eftisen of this county. He Ras been here nearly all the days of his life, and every day of that time he earned an honest B‘u Mayhew,” he interrupted himself to to a spectator on one of the benches know whether thiy man always an honmest lving. Speak up. Tell the court, did he?” Yes, Mr. White,” said Mayhew guiekly, he ald” > The court interfered. Y “We know, Mr. Whits, he @ honest man. Now, what would you have us do?” “Your Honer,” resumed the speaker, differently following his own mfi-& bent, “this man has always honest living until Be injured his here in some way, and since then has deen ‘cobbling for a living. However, he is ut ting old now and he can’t earn as.muc) he used to, and so I bro him here to have flg%:;.ryml .dt. - -2 :: county in: . 1 want you > an order admitting him to that institws i so that I can take it and there fio&hmuAthhh-&uW an pla 3 “All right, Mr. White,” replieth. the Judge, surveying the two figures in mid- alsle, “I will so order.” “But, your Honor,” he weat. on, “ther an exception I want made In this case. Mr. Moore has & few friends that he Illkes to visit in the summe: and who like to have him visit them. want him to have the privilege of com- ing out in the summer to see thess peo- ple, and to see me.” “All right, Mr. White.” replled the Judge, “he shall have that privilege.” Satisfled in these particulars, the aged citizen led his charge away and went with him to the infirmary, where he explained the order of the court and then left him. Everything went peacefully number of years until finally le Bobby, growing rather feeble with age, came to Mr. White and asked his old friend to promise him one thing. “What is {t?" sald Mr. White. By way of reply he descrived ‘an old oak tree which grew in the yard of a Baptist church some miles from Dan- ville, and said: “I want you to promise that when I am dead you will ses that I am buried under that tree.” 3 The old fellow used great secrecy In his request and begged to be assured that, wherever he happened to be when he died, Mr. White would come and get his body and carry it to the old oak. The patriarch promised, and a few years went by, and then suddenly one day he learmed that Uncle Eobby was Gead. “Where is his body?” he asked, “Why, @hey burled it under the old white oak,” was the answer, “at Mount Horeb Church.”™ “What! he exclaimed, them to bury him there?” : “Why, he did,” said the friend. The patriarch was too astounded, however, to think of anything save his lost privilege of merecy. “The confounded villain,” he exclaim- ed pathctically. “He led me to belleve that I was the only one he told. I was to have looked after his burial alone.”™ for a “whe told