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12 YEARNS FOR HILLS, GIRL RUNS AWAY CHILD DISSATISFIED WITH BB LIFE AT BEACH SEA'S MUSIC DISCORD TO HER Fourteen.Year.Old Goldie Bunce Leaves the Home of Her Grand* father In Redondo — Detect. Ive* Search for Her Ooldle Bunre, granddaughter of J. M. More of 223 Francisco street, Ue dondo, ran nway from homo Friday night nnd detectives have been iiskeil to assist In the search for the young gin. The child's grandfather appeared nt the police station yesterday to report the loss of the little one. "She never did like the bench," snld the old man. "Her mother died some time ngo and Goldie and her sister came to live with my wife and myself. But Ooldle would not live at the bench. She did not like the sound of the waves nor the smell of the brine and complained of the absence of the hills and the meadows. She was raised In Los Angeles. "Friday night she tried on a dress which her grandmother had made for her to wear to school and then shu tried on the longer garments belonging to her sister. This morning when we found that she had left us we looked and found that her new dress was In its proper plnce but her sister's clothes are gone and we think the child may have worn them." Goldie Is 14 years old but looks younger. She Is 4 feet 9 inches tall and weighs about 85 pounds. She has auburn hair and light eyes. ROTHSCHILD'S UNIQUE FARM Englishman's Experiments of Interest to Science One of the unique farms of the world ir. that of the Hon. Walter Rothßchild, brother-in-law of Lord Rosebery, saya the New York Herald. He has a large estat-3 in Hertfordshire, and it is given over to his hobby, zoology, for on this larm he has few domestic animals, but numbers of creatures such as one sees in a zoological garden. He has zebras instead of horses, and drives them with the greatest ease. He even takes a team of his striped beauties to town with him in the season, and astonishes the flaring Londoners when he drives though Hyde Park behind his zebra four-lu-hand. The place Is called Trlng Talk, and there is something suggestive of the prosperity of a French seigneur about it. Trlng Itself Is a well built, nice little country town lying on the sid« of the last slopes of the Chilterns. From its hills one sees over the rich vale of Aylesbury the valley of the River Thume, which runs into the Thames mar Dorchester. Tring Park is In the midst of thi? lovely country, and the houses In the main street fringe the park, and from their upper windows may be seen a stately vista of limes and the brilliant ted and white Palladin house. The bricks are as red and the stones as vhite as possible, and In the green setting of the grass, lime trees and beeches, the effect is charming. From the house the park covers a great arc in the hills which look down upon It and up the sides of which it runs. Along the top are rich hanging woods, the lower slopes and valleys In the park being pastured by the strange liock and herds of the farm: The particular Interest of this farm park to the .naturalist is due to its having been the scene of almost the lnst mortem experiments In acclimati zation. Hern th<o Australian kanga roos and wallabies \v<?re first success fully acclimatized by the Hon. Walter Rothschild about eighteen years ago, and there they are still, feeding like sheep and almost as tamo as domestic animals, the smaller wallabies often allowing the members of the family to fonrlle them. There are large herds of fallow deer running wild over tho park, and hornert sheep, with surprising fleeces. The zebras are in numbers, having been bred from several generations or their kind trained to harness. Mr. Rothschild finds them tougher than horses, and some of the larger ones are worked regularly on the farm plowing, hcylng, carting, etc. Consoling Thought Slowly and softly the porch climber approached the BPcond story window and pried up the lower sash. As he did so an alarm bell Inside the room began to ring, an electric light was turned on, and a graphophone wheezed out: "Hey, there, you! What do you want?" Expedltlously the nocturnal visitor backed away, climbed down from the porch, and (led away In the darkness. "I've always noticed." he muttered, in a tone of deep disgust, "that a feller who goeß to all that trouble to guard his stuff hain't got a blamed thing worth stealin', anyway!"— Ch icago Tribune. "Now," said Mr. Huzzard, who was Instructing her in the mysteries of golf, "you know what a 'tee' is. Let me ex plain now the duties of the 'caddie.' You see"— "Of course," she interrupted, "the caddie's wbat you put the tea in. I know what v tea caddie Is."—Phila delphia Press. OstPifd— Pa, what's an Infernal ma chine? Pa— Why, a phonograph after mi<J- Ji.Kht, my con. — Chicago Pally News. PARISIAN SECRET POLICE Strangers In the City Are Constantly Watched About the words, "the secret police," there Is n pretty nlr of mystery. They summon up pictures of clonked figures, of men waiting In dnrk alleyways nnd of Ktenlthy steps behind the curtains of corridors. They nre woven Into nine tenths of popular French fiction. The woman concierge, sunning herself In what Pnrlslan doorway you please, feeds her Imagination on tales of mul tiple disguises. For her the nuent ri> la surete, who entries to Inquire nbotit her lodgers, Is dnrk with mystery: he Is "of the secret police." As a matter of fact this hrnnch of the police, though dretsed In plnln clothes, Is not at nil occult. It hns to do with plnln nnd simple crimes. Most of the Agents of the surete. are old soldiers, honorable men. They nre supplemented, however, by a band of qunsl pollcp, known as In dlcnteurs. These people, who nre per mnnent nuxlllnrles of the service, nre> recruited among the street fakirs nnd masteriess rogues who foregather In Paris, But behlnil these humdrum nßents nnd those gloomy outcasts, their aids, thera Is a mighty and mysterious -secret police," nbout which not one Parlslnn In a hundred has definite knowledge. The real secret police—to day, ns under the empire— ls thnt which Is known ns the brigade dcs feeherches —that Is, the brigade of Investigation. The rtiembers of this force nre recruited In n far higher rnnk of society than the fellows of the surete. Indeed, there Is no class— from the old nobility to the new feudality of finance— which does not contribute this occult system of esplonnsre. It Is not my purpose here to describe In detnll the many rnmlflrn tions of this nnclent nnd potent order of spies. A foreigner in Frnnee, if he associates frequently with people of Importance, comes In time to know them well. They follow him In his comings and going?, report upon his nets and opinions, and sift his life with a care unknown In our careless republic. One of those who was sent out on my trail I enme to know very well. What I was suspected of I know not, though during the troublous days of the Dreyfus case I fraternized with many men — one of whom, the Comte dv Temple, an ex deputy, was an aggressive royalist. Anyway, my spy nnd I came to know each other very well. He played a good game of billiards nnd was a companion able gentleman. A little later Dr. W. J. O'Sullivan, the assistant corporation counsel of New York, visited me In Paris. He was greatly interested in the secret police. I could hardly persuade him that from the moment we met and shook hands in the Gare dv Nord until his departure from the Gare St. Lazare every act of his had been noted. I got the evidence from my friend (my own pet spy) In the brigade dcs recherches. The doc tor's record was singularly complete. He had not spoken with a man, he had not chatted with a woman, he had not dined out or breakfasted In my garden, he had not bought a pair of yellow gloves, unseen by some übiquitous spy. The amazed gentleman, when he learned how close had been the watch upon him, shuddered as If he had walked in peril, and went back to New York wondering. So close are the meshes of this police net that not even a casual visitor slips through. An Immigration Reform What should have been done long ago Is now proposed In the estab lishment of a bureau of government on Kills island to give immigrants full au thentic information as to the opportu nities of settlement and employment in different parts of the country. This is all the more necessary since the con tract labor laws threaten the immi grant with deportation if he secure em ployment in advance of his coming. But between this form of prearrange ment and the proposed policy of the government to advise Immigrants after their arrival as to opportunities and private enticements by offers and promises- of employment there Is, in the opinion of Commissioner Sargent, a very great difference. The commissioner tells the agents of Southern railroad companies that the government will not sanction the ad vertisement by Americans In Kurope of the advantages offered settlers In certain parts of the United States, be cause in his estimation the stream of new comers is quite strong enough without such inducement. There Is a smack of Know-Nothlngism about this, but It Is partially redeemed by the effort to so administer the immi gration laws as to do the least harm. The Immigrant may not secure employ ment before leaving his home, but when he comes blindly the government will help him with advice and infor mation as to the means of earning a living In tho land of his adoption.— rhlladolnhla Record. The duke of Medina's house at Ar gamasllln, In which Cervantes wrote Don Quixote, has boon burned, accord- Ing to a cable dispatch from Madrid. This Is the house pictured by Prof. Georgp Edward Woodhprry, who writes of Cervantes in the April McClure's: "lie tmd married a wife, not a for tune, but she brought him— hon» opens the domestic Interior— beside some vineyards, 'two linen sheets, one good blanket and one worn, tables, chairs, 11 brazier, a grater, several sacred Im ages, one cock, and forty-five pullets.' His house was the general refuge of the women of the family; there, In 1605, were living his wife, his natural duughter, two Bistort) and a niece." When a man and his wife nturt to go anywhere, says v Missouri paper, he tells her to get out his new suit, fix the buttons In bin shirt, get his cuffo, good shoos, tie his necktie, brush his hat, perfume his handkerchief and a few other little Jobs. Then he puts on hln hat and says "Great Scott! Ain't you ready yet?" LOS ANGELES . HERALD! SUNDAY, MORNING, APRIL 16. 1905. ARTISTIC BOOKBINDING IN mediaeval days the Rood monks found relaxation from the monot ony of their lives In Illuminating the mlssnla which we treasure todny. Thai was their dissipation— the making of book*! The gold and crimson, and blue, nnrt cream, filled their starved eyes With color thnt wn« comfort. To day, the busy, nervous, modern wo man joins hands with the monastic dreamer of the Middle Ages; nhr, too, finds her delight and her distraction in ma king hooks. The lnst few yearn have marked a surprising Influx of women Into the rnnks of bookbinders. Jllch women and poor women, energetic women nnd wrury women, have tnken It Up — some times ns n fad, sometimes us a relnxa tlon, sometimes ns a profession. The woman with time hanging heavily on her hnnds finds whole diiyn burned nwiiy by the fascination of making something so intricate and difficult, yet bo satisfactory. The woman who has overworked Is Kind to occupy her tired brain with something fresh nnd Interesting. The henrtslck woman Minis thnt her nerves nre cnlmed by the steady work and unremitting concen tration. The woman with BiiperfloiiH life and energy discovers a valuable channel for her vltnllty. The artistic woman Is In ecstasy over the oppor tunities for fnnclful nnd beautiful work. The woman with a taste for mechanical, manual work finds both her hands and her Ingenuity fully oc cupied. Mr. Adams' Views Ralph Randolph Adams, who Is him self well known as a master In book binding, and who hns taught many women the art, said! "I have had a good deal of experi ence In teaching women to hind books and I do not hesitate to say thnt I con sider It a craft peculiarly adapted to feminine capabilities. 'Women have seldom excelled In the larger,, broader, rougher forms of artistic work, but they have a wonderful grasp of the finer points In designing — the little deli cacies and subtleties which make book binding an art, nnd the lack of which makes it a matter of mechanics. "There are schools, or cults, In book binding, you know, by the bye, and women bookbinders, like the men, be long necessarily to one or another. Probably the most popular school Is that headed by Cobden Saunderson, In England. It Is a school founded upon certain conventional principles of designing, chiefly Persian in origin. Cobden Saunderson and Douglas Cock erell excel in this . conventional dec oration and do ; fine work, Cockerell particularly. , But the style Is one which is rather antagonistic to broad artistic work and rather cramping to individuality, or so it seems to me. It is easy for the students following in the footsteps of Saunderson and Cock erell to fall heir to their limitations while falling to achieve their great ness. The Process of Bookbinding To watch the process of binding a book is distinctly Interesting, but it Is certain to give the casual looker on a very hazy impression of bookbinding in general. The technicalities of the craft are quite beyond the untutored intelligence, and the wise commentor does not concern himself with them, save Inasmuch as they may strike him as interesting from an outsider's stand point. First, the book to be bound is taken tc. pieces, carefully cleaned and washed, the illustrations protected, and the holes made by the previous binding smoothly patched with a special kind of thin, tough paper. Then the leaves are refolded, divided into sections and pressed into a solid block in the big press. The whole is then put into the sewing frame, where each section is sewn with silk or linen, and all are sewn In turn to the heavy«tords drawn tlpht upon the frame, which later form the raised bands on the back of the book. Then the backs are glued— the boiling of the glue pot fills the studio with steam and a queer odor like noth ing else In life, and while the glue is still soft the back is hammered into the desired curve with a big hammer. Then the book Is backed, the bands are nipped up, so as to stand up firm ly and distinctly, the leaves are cut square with the plough, the boards are laced on with the frayed ends of the heavy cords and the whole volume is fl The June Cover Mi of the ■ I Woman's Home I Companion <l(fs Will Be Painted by M Paul De Longpre s Ik of This City >ak In That Same' June Mumber Will Be Printed m De Longpre's Waltz # "Souvenir de Los Jingeles" M, You Can Get the Woman's Home Companion '" iV: Ay Subscribing for the % Los Angeles Herald , %#g*i# ........... .£/£ "TIIK QUAI^ITY STORM" '■ 1 ■iijiiii— n in 1 ,. 111^ 1 riictiA/nrf ny I lAthim/i *iL I 1 UoiWUI lily V^iUlllliiU l H 'iSL G I" II OW 111 CT S~-Tr-.r-.=:~ /IW^ We tnkc especial pride in our offerings for the Easter season— the great dress-up occasion of spring. Every wanted article of attire for men and boys is here ex- cept shoes. And in men's suits we arc positive that our styles arc fully abreast <^^^^^^^^S^^ the best markets of the Kast, and superior to any other store in Southern Califor- MWo^^^'^o'^^^^._ nia. The reputation of this great store is back of every article — that's why we gSf^^^^^^^E f &^^jppi^ put the "M. & B." label on them. It will pay you to take time to have us show WB J° Ut "sl2, $15, $18, $20, $22 and Up . Huff ""* A very complete line of Juvenile Straw Hendwear. tl Snfn? t Men's Good Clothes for Boys rUrfllSnifl2,S TIlHt '? our reputation and the clothing will certainly substantiate any claim ff£§93Mßi^sW make for them. Special fllH,, Wash Suits even's Ni R ht Robes or JDHh| &«^^^^^^ -- Shirts, in extra quality "^ "' *"" 51.50 TO *V> muslin. With or with- A^M Norfolk Wool SllitS out collar. Also plain \ BUw mm /^vhite twill. All the garments cut \« 9 S& WtStfSSi ™df B Be' c brenSted Rt^^ h^" P*nt S ; home- full sizes and long lengths. Sizes N f /(I % nnd fine fitting s>*J.oU TO $>I.*£ 15 to 20. Half what you usually U f\L f VrMittic' Quite pay for them- Jrl M «H^f * OUlllS OllllS B3y In the same popular styles and materials of the older folkH' clothes; worsteds mj Cs^ nnd cheviots; munly shapes, t^ 43 tl»*~fcrf"V' OOvy and eas y to bu *< at «?o to J^^U Mullen & Bluett Clothing Co. I. linn— ■ .lIIMMMIIIMMI IIIIII.IIMII J FIRST AXl> SPUING STREETS pressed again. When the leather Is on and the head band, which is made of a 'cello string covered with silk, the "forwarding" is over, the book is ready to be finished. The weary woman who has struggled through the long process of forwarding heaves a sigh of relief and gets out her pencil and paper to work out her design — if Indeed she has not prepared It long since. In this connection differ ent methods prevail, but most persons seem to make a rough sketch of what they want, lay It down upon a piece of cardboard the slue of their book and use their "gouges" (or decorating in struments) to verify, modify or .in tensify the design. For Instance, sup pose one wanted a sunflower and had no tool shaped with quite so sharp a curve as would be necessary for the petals, then one would have either to change the design or have a new gouge made. After the lines of the. design have been changed and conventionalized by the aid of the gouges and compasses, the paper is fastened upon the leather book and the tooling begins. First come the hot irons that are pressed into the soft leather through the paper sketch. This is simply the im pression of outline. Sometimes by a combination of extreme heat and mois ture the decorator gets a darker im pression, which is called "blind tool ing," and Is left as it is, as part of the design, without adding any gold. But the prettiest part of 'it all to watch and the most fascinating to do or so the ,outslder thinks — Is the gold tooling. The design which is already on the leather is covered by a "glare" made of the white of egg and vinegar, which Is allowed to dry. Then the decorator takes a tiny bit of cotton moistened with grease— cocoa butter, almond oil, vaseline or palm oil — and carefully applies the gold leaf. The leaf is cut into tiny strips and is laid on the leather in double layers to be tooled. The brass gouges are heated In the fire, tempered quickly on the bi? wet sponge in a bowl— it hisses and slenms when the scorching tools touch it — and the binder presses the hot metal end strongly and steadily into the gold leaf. When it has or should have adhered the gouge Is put aside and the supeiiluous gold leaf which has not been pressed Into the design is rubbed off with a lump of crude rub ber—which, by the bye, becomes an odd soft bronze color through its con stant contact with gold dust. The straight lines on the book are done with the tooling wheel or roll, which is an imposing weapon, and looks much too large and murderous for its ono use to be to mark out a thread of gold. When the last bit of gold is 011 and the bookbinder leans back to rest, she may not be satisfied with the result — If she is inherently an artist she will not be — but at least she has the con sciousness of a long, hard task com pleted, the remembrance of hours of patient work, of weeks and probably months of careful thought and appli cation. And that Is something of which even so superior a woman as a bookbinder may justly be proud. >. "We call this place of ours the 'sanitarium,' " smilingly declared Miss Foote, the head of the Evelyn Noni hoff School of Bindery, the other day. She is acknowledged to be one of th? best women binders working today, and she knows whereof she speaks. "Why the sanitarium? Because it does so much for sick and nervous women. They come up here In a wretched stato sometimes, and the work seems to do wonders for them. After all, if you con keep a woman's hands and head both occupied and add to that a stim ulus and Incentive for the Imagination you are doing a greut deal, are you not? And the very woman who starts In without a shadow of an idea about exactness or concentration finds! herself so Interested In what she I 3 doing that she gains both qualities without knowing It. "Oh, yep, I think It in a magnificent profession for women. It develops the gifts that they have and cultivates those that they have not. Woman's love for detail and her Imagination are two of her most dominant traits, and no profession In the world de mands more of both attributes. And nlie Icarus — oh, she learns bo much more than merely bookbinding!" "Butterfly Bookbinder" Mu.iy fashionable women huve taken up bookbinding as a fad, and It in only truthful to admit that the professionals do not take them too seriously. These nume professionals argue— not Illoglcally— that, as they work eight and ten hours a day uud then full fur Bhort of what they should uohleve, it Is hardly probable that a society woman who takes a leeson or two a week and. amuses herself In her work room during her odd hours could ac complish anything in the least worth while. Yet the "butterfly bookbinders," as I have heard them styled, have done some very creditable work now and then, and can afford to feel as indif ferent as they do to the comments of their more industrious sisters. Women like Miss Kernochan, Mrs. lilpley, Mrs. "Seymour Cromwell and Mrs. Chatfleld-Taylor are already well known for their "addiction to book binding." So fashionable women con tinue to pursue the art, in valiant un concern, despite the derision of their friends on the one side and their col leagues on the other. But It Is in the workroom of a pro fessional and an artist in one that you see the true love for any knowledge of this beautiful craft. Such a workroom is that of Miss Mary Chatfield, whose work is winning for her an enviable place among those who can appreciate skill and intelligence. She consented to show the reporter her artistic para phernalia and her ways of working, and in her picturesque studio, littered with queer tools and bits of warrn hued leather, with half-finished books and penciled sketches, she talked en thusiastically and well about the art she loves. Her small fox terrier curled up at her feet as she talked, opening a suspicious eye to bark at the re porter now and then, and Miss Chat field Interrupted herself occasionally to order the little animal to "be polite." A Worker in Her Studio "There is nothing like It— nothing!" she declared. "I love it better than anything in the world, and nothing would make me give It up. I work nt It ten hours a day and sometimes more than that, yet I have never gotten the least bit tired of it. What else could one say that of, I wonder? Hut it takes patience; oh, what patience. See this book." She took from a cabinet a copy of "The Knight Errant," with a dull green design formed of shields, "I worked more than ten hours a day for three months on that, but It Is worth It. You can't turn back, you can never leave it. If you once feel the spell mid fascination of It you never want to do anything else. Style? Oh, yes. I have a. style of my own, aft'^r a fashion. It would be a poor worker who could not put some Individuality, some personality, Into what she til<l. And yet — and yet" — nhe hesitated its she sorted the big tools and looked out of the window. "1 do think It has Its limitations, you know. That is the hard part of it. One loves It and keeps forever trying to put something more Into it than Ih possible. I do not thlnl: It Is a very eusy channel for the ex pression of — one's Belf." The fox terrier became Impertinent Juat then and thus switched the con versation off Into less gerlouß lluea. "See," said Miss Chatfield, a few min utes Inter, opening a. little flat brown parcel, "I mn going to »hoyv you Boim>. thing which has just beeti sent to mo from the other Bide of the world to use In my work." The dull wintry light quite slowed and sparkled an . It touched what lay In her hand. "It -la Syrian gold," she explained. "In leaf form, of course. And here is some leather from Syria." She held up 11 splendid piece of dusky crimson. I'l'rn going to use this leather and this gold. ' she declared, "to bind something won — derful and Oriental!" "OURS" NOT "MINE" Change of Possession Might Lessen Divorce Evil "I tell you, you are mistaken; It i!i Divorce court. . . Which is a terse way of putting th<? sad history of many a marriage dis agreement over the things mine and thine and the domestic misery that follows. The way to settle such a disagree ment Is for both parties to say, "It Is ours!" Because of the struggle for mine and thine the records of history are rolled In blood, nations have fallen, barriers of hatred have been raised, brother has fought brother. Envy, dissension atid division have come because men have contended for that which is not theirs, but "ours." Organized selfishness in our day has manifested Itself in the great corpora tion spiders that have spread their webs far and wide, controlling the ave nues of approach, watching for victims ■ with their many-faceted eyes, gather ing to themselves what is not thelrs, Vi but "ours." The world Is "ours." Sky and carth — ours. Sunshine and shade — ours. Flowers and birds— ours, / ; Fruits and fertile fields— ours. And the Master of us all taught us to pray, "Our father." Ladles and gentlemen: Everywhere Is needed this doctrine of "ours" — In th« family, city, state, nation, world. The solution of all earth's problem is wrapped up In the one saying- - "Everything is ours." * Not Graham Gema In a schoolroom tho first prlrfißr> grade was listening to the . teacher reading a description of Columbus' first voyage to America. The, history was written in words of one syllable. ; . ■,' -V, The teacher reads: "Queen Isabella sold her gems to help Columbus." . ', "Now, children," Bhe said, "who can toll me what gemß are?" Instantly Hobert sprang, to his feet, his hands waving frantically and his eyes flashing. "Well, Hobert," she salt]. "Biscuits!" yelled Kobert.— Boston Herald. Kliuv & Krlanger have secured the American, rlghtß to "The Spring Chicken," which Is soon to be produced at tin- 1 Oulety theater, Liondon, It U udapted from the Krench piece, "Le Co* quin do I'rintempß." Henry Arthur Jones la . writing a play fur Virginia llarned. It. will, be ready next Beuiton. MF?I At lh« ruiiiTHl In Cincinnati or Mn. ju hunii* lllck«y, tli* rare «i>eot«cl» was afforded of h»r nv* »mi«, ail prletti. officiating «( the ■ hun'h mvlcti. four »una bor* tli* catUt to tl.. h.ar ... •