The San Francisco call. [volume], May 05, 1895, Page 17, Image 17

About The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913

Image provided by: University of California, Riverside; Riverside, CA

                
THE WONDERFUL CLOCK
OF
TOULON
W.C MORROW
A month had passed since the murder of
the rich, miserly and feeble old widow in
her lonely cottage near the Park, and
Develle. the pale and scholarly young man
who had killed her for her money, began
to grow easier in mind as the efforts of the
police to find the criminal relaxed, and
then came altogether to an end. So in
genious had been the plan of the murder,
and so accurate its execution, that only an
accident could have revealed him as its
author. There was but one point upon
which his mind held any uncertainty—
whether or not he had even been sus
pected. The unrelaxing watchfulness
•which he kept upon his circumstances had
revealed what he feared was a veiled police
observation of his movements, beginning
about a week after the tragedy; but he
reasoned that, making allowance for his
anxiety over the frightful dangers which
encompassed him, he had really no great
cause for fear, and could not do better than
be open and free in his conduct.
It is not supposable that such a man as
he. youns, finely organized and well edu
cated, could be in a normal condition of
mind after the commission of so atrocious
a deed, nor, therefore, that his bearing
could be perfectly of the kind usual with
him. He himself knew this, and that
made his effort to appear normal all the
more strenuous, and hence the result all
the more artificial. It was then that he
made a disheartening discovery — that the
finer the organization of a man who com
mits a crime the more difficult it is for him
to conceal it under an assumed carelessness
of demeanor; that the advantage which a
hisrhiy constituted mind enjoys in the plan
ning and execution of a crime is offset by
the subsequent strain which does not
afflict criminals of a low order; and that in
comparison with the fear of discovery and
punishment, the prickings of conscience
and dread of divine chastisement have an
exceedingly insignificant value. It is only
after one has committed a crime that one
realizes how dreadful and overshadowing
is the law.
He was pondering these matters one
evening with all the dangerous shrewdness
of his kind, when he discovered sitting
opposite him at the restaurant table a tine,
scholarly looking old man, who had a dis
trait manner. The stranger was thin, bent
and bloodless, so that he shivered. His
air was gentle and patient, and he bore his
discomfiture without grumbling.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he remarked
to Develle, "but are you a resident of San
Francisco, and if so can you tell me if the
summer evenings are always so cool as
this?"
"Yes," answered Develle, "I live here,
and the summer evenings are generally
cool."
"Then you are accustomed to the climate
and enjoy it?"
"Yes, and you also shall like it when it
bas made you stronger."
Thus they fell into an acquaintanceship,
which, it may be guessed, was most wel
come to the young man. The stranger
talked very freely and simply about his af
fairs, saying that he had worn himself out as
a private tutor in Xew York, and that hav
ing saved a little money he had decided
to end his days in peace and comfort in
the pleasant climate of California; "but
this is my first day here, and, coming as I
do from so hot a summer, this cool air
makes me shiver."
They met often at the restaurant, and
under the influence of the stranger's
gentle, half-timid, but thoroughly whole
some influence, the young man advanced
steadily in the task of self-mastery.
One evening, when the stranger (whose |
name was Enderlin) was calling on him, {
they fell into a discussion df strange and
occult things, and both became deeply in
terested, as sensitive persons generally do
in talking over matters of that kind. Pres
ently Develle told the following story :
"There is a legend in my family (which
on my father's side is French) that runs
to this effect: Along time ago a certain
Develle, from whom I am descended, was
a clockmaker ;n Toulon. In his leisure
moments he worked upon a clock that was
to be his own and that should be handed
down to his descendants. It required
twenty years of patient labor and contriv
ing at odd times to produce this master
piece, for a wonderful mechanism it is
said to have been.
"Here is the strange part of the story:
Not long after he had finished it and found
that it had fulfilled all his hopes in prov
ing to be the noblest and most accurate
timepiece that had ever been constructed,
he was so filled with pride that he called
together all the members of the family of
Develle to see the clock and celebrate it
with a feast. In the speech which he made
he recounted the infinite pains and labor
which he had employed to produce it, and
with great solemnity announced that it
was to perpetuate the name of Develle, the
clockmaker of Toulon, and as it was made
so as to be practically indestructible it
should be handed down from father to son
and kept in the possession of the Develles
as long as the name should persist on the
earth. 'For,' he explained, 'my soul shall
go into this clock when I die, and the heri
tage which I leave shall stand guard over
the integrity of my name. Let every man
of the name of Develle who shall come
after me regard this timepiece as his friend
and mentor, and cherish it as a possession
which heaven has yielded up for his good.'
Upon concluding these words the old
clockmaker fell dead."
Mr. Enderlin listened to this story with
the sharpest interest, and his eyes were
wide and bright, like those of a child hear
ing about ghosts.
"W T ell, is that all?" he asked, betraying
disappointment.
"No; there are other things to come.
It is related that at the moment when he
died the wonderful clock gave evidence of
violent perturbation; the wheels whirred
ominously and the hands flew wildly round
the dial; then the mechanism settled,
the hands stopped at the proper place and
the clock proceeded steadily and soberly to
observe its function."
At this juncture the young man, who
had become much excited over his own
narration, suddenly ceased; then essayed
a word, stammered, turned i,ale and broke
down miserably.
"Well?" almost gasped hia listener, see
ing easily that some terrible disclosure was
being withheld, and therefore all the more
eager to hear it. "There is something else
—I know— l know there is ! Tell me !"
Develle was undergoing a fearful strug
gle, which, we can readily imagine, was a
bwift analysis of his own position and a
contemplation of pq^ible dangers which
he was inviting. Yet, if he should stop
now, when it was clear that he had more
to teil, what might the stranger imagine?
It had been his policy thus far to wear a
bold and open manner, to the end of dis
couraging any suspicion thai he might
have something to conceal. He had been
wholly truthful in detailing the fantastic
legend which had been handed down to
him, and lie quickly realized that as the
story was probably known to all the mem
bers of the great family to which he be
longed, any hesitation on his part now
might induce an inquiry which would dis
corer what he had withheld, and that in
turn might cause suspicion to glance his
way. So. after a merry laugh and a re
mark that he had never yet failed to stop
at that particular place in telling the story,
aiid had never been disappointed in his
expectation that the listener's curiosity
would be intensely whetted by the pause
he proceeded :
"Well, of course it was agreed that
Providence, appreciating the nobility of
my ancestor's purpose, forwarded it by
transferring the clockmaker's soul, there
in the presence of witnesses, from his worn
out body to the wonderful clock, which
"WELL, IF A MURDER, THEN THE CLOCK WOULD RUN BACKWARD.
would outlast many generations of men.
And the soul, being thus more permanently
and efficiently housed, must possess subtler
perceptions than before. Hence its pur
lK>se as a guide and mentor for the family
of Develle would be better served.
"It is related that ever afterward this
clock, while ordinarily performing its
humbler duty of time-keeping with in
fallible regularity, would go awry in its ac
counting if any member of the family did
an evil thing, and that the degree of its
irregularity would be governed by the
magnitude of the wrong; a condition being
that the malefactor should be brougnt into
its presence. Thus, if a lie was told the
clock would lose time ; if a theft was com
mitted it would stop, hut start again of its
own accord if restitution was made; if a
robbery, it would stop and then whirr
ominously ; if a "
'Well, if a murder," eagerly suggested
"MR. ENDERLIN OBSERVED THE TERRIBLE STRUGGLE PROCEED
ING BEFORE HIM."
the elderly man when Develle paused and
choked.
"Well, if a murder," pursued Develle,
very white, but with a sudden dash of
spirit and indifference, "if a murder, then
the clock would run backward."
"Wonderful !" exclaimed Mr. Enderlin ;
"and all the more interesting to me, for—
please do not laugh when I confess it— my
one great passion in life is the collection of
curious clocks."
The younger man smiled faintly and
was about to turn the talk into some other
channel, when his companion, with a sud
den and alarming eagerness, while his
eyes blazed with a strange light that was
almost fierce and menacing, clutched his
arm and demanded :
"What became of that clock? Where
is it?"
Develle threw back his head and laughed
with all the assumed merriment possible
to his condition. But this in nowise dis
concerted or discouraged his inquisitor,
who seemed quite suddenly, under the
pressure of liis peculiar bejit, to h*X£ been
THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL. SUNDAY, MAY 5, 1895.
transformed from a gentle, timid char
acter into a man of a remarkably hard
will. Develle regarded him with wonder,
and perhaps a faint alarm.
"I don't know," he answered, in a man
ner intended to be free and linal.
"But you do know or have heard. Tell
me!"
Develle laughed again, but by no means
mirthfully.
"If you will have it," he said, "the story
goes thus: One of the Develles to whom
the clock had descended was afflicted with
a brood of vicious sons who indulged in all
manner of crimes. The authorities knew
the legend of the clock, and were employ
ing its testimony so effectively in convict
ing the sons by terrifying them into a con-
I fession that the owner secretly disposed of
it to an Arabian peddler who happened to
be passing through Toulon."
"And so it was lost to the family?"
"Yes: and forever, let us hope."
"Why that hope?" quickly snapped Mr.
Develle appeared embarrassed and an-
I noyed and made no response. Worst of
all* he was alarmed upon discovering that
he lacked the courage to look the strange
old man in the eyes, which he felt were
burning holes through his head. Mr. En
derlin ignored his failure to answer that
question and propounded another:
"Was any description of the clock handed
down in the legend?"
"None whatever. But, my dear sir, you
seem to be unduly exercised over this idle
tale, which on its very face is the silliest
of romances. Let us drop the subject."
"Certainly, certainly," agreed Mr. En
derlin with surprising alacrity ; and then,
with an apparent effort to pull himself to
gether, he as quickly subsided into his
former gentleness as he had emerged from
it. With the admirable address of a wise
K sympathetic man he sought to make
self as agreeable as possible, but in
I spits of that effort a certain constraint sat
between the two men during the remain
{ der of the evening.
Develle did not sleep well that night,
and when he dozed, a clock that per
sistently ran backward inraded his peace.
The next day he reasoned that despite
the fact of a vague dislike of Mr. Enderlin
which had been born within him, it was
wise that he should not avoid a continu
ance of the friendly relation. This was in
the pursuit of his policy to do those things
which he liked least to do, when there was
the smallest chance that his failure to do
them might be construed against him. He
always found Mr. Enderlin pleasant and
friendly, and was grateful that the sub-
I ject of clocks was not again brought up.
One day Mr. Enderlin said:
"I want you to come to my room this
evening."
Develle readily agreed.
They had passed a quiet evening there,
and Develle was preparing to leave, when
Mr. Enderlin, while politely pressing him
to remain and protesting that it was yet
early, glanced at a queer old clock on the
mantel, half hidden by some dried grasses
resting in a vase, and exclaimed in aston
ishment:
"Why, it is only two minutes past 6
o'clock!"
Develle's glance followed Mr. Enderlin's
and saw that the hands of the antique
timepiece indicated two minutes past 6.
He smiled and said:
"That is one of your curios, eh? You
surely do not expect so antediluvian a
thing as that to keep any time at all."
"Well, I have had it two clays now, and
it has been keeping excellent time until to
night. Why, I remember that the hands
pointed to 8 o'clock when you came
in! Let me see." He produced and
opened his watch and then exclaimed :
"Yes, it is now 10 o'clock. Of course,
I was mistaken when I thought it
Struck 8 just before you arrived. The
thing really stopped at two minutes past
6, and I was only dreaming. I did not ex
pect it to keep any sort of time, as you say,
but I did not buy it for that purpose. I
found it in the darkest corner of a junk
shop, where it had lain for many years.
It was covered with dust, but a giance con
vinced me that it was a genuine antique
and a great prize. I opened it, and to my
amazement discovered it to be the most
exquisite piece of workmanship that I had
ever seen from a clockmaker's hands; and
I have seen most of the finest old clocks in
he world. I bought it for $3, and I would
not take $10.<X>0 for it."
Mr. Enderlin abruptly paused in his
rapid and excited speech, listened a
moment, and then bounded to the mantel.
"Why, upon my word, it is running!" he
exclaimed in amazement.
No sooner had he uttered the words than
the clock began to strike. He stepped
back, his eyes wide and bright, and breath
lessly watched the clock. After it had sol
emnly struck 6, the silence in the room
was profound, and an oppressive sense of
an impending catastrophe seemed to sit
upon the two men, as they stood im
movable and watching the clock. Slowly
the pendulum swung to and fro, and the
ominous ticking fell like blows on the
brain. Steadily the minute hand crept
backward.
This discovery seemed to have worked it
self into Mr. Enderlin's mind with ex
treme slowness, but when it did, he uttered
a suppressed exclamation and suddenly
turned a strange, fierce, hard look upon
Develle.
Up to this moment the wretched young
man had been gazing at the clock with
glassy eyes shining strangely out of a pal
lid, wrinkled face ; and now, when that
burning, penetrating look, which already,
at another time, had filled him with dread,
flashed upon him with even more terrify
ing effect than before, a rigor shook him
from end to end. Never till that moment
had fear laid so formidable a weight upon
him, and never till that awful instant had
there been any strain upon his will to com
pare in violence with this. It was not possi
ble for him now to order his understand
ing or weigh his peril. The fine, strong
and intricately woven bonds with
which his brain had bound up his
secret, whose clamorings and strain
ings for freedom had not prevailed against
its prison, were now snapping and twisting
with alarming rapidity, and the struggling
prisoner was fiercely fighting its way to
liberty.
Mr. Enderlin, standing erect, motion
less and threatening, observed the terrible
struggle proceeding before him. Then,
suddenly, after another glance at the clock
to reassure himself that the hands were
steadily moving backward, he seized
Develle by the arm, dragged him to the
mantel, tore open the door of the clock,
briskly rubbed with his thumb a dim
silver plate soldered to the bronze case
back of the pendulum and brought to
plain view these two words ornately en
graved in old French text:
pevelle: toulox.
A spasmodic action of the young man's
throat muscles made him gasp and
strangle, and a profuse perspiration
trickled down fiis face, which had now
changed from pallor to an apoplectic hue.
The tierce, brilliant, burning gaze of the
old man was melting, untwisting and un
binding the fine strong bonds that had
held his secret so securely; and then a
deep, strange voice, issuing seemingly
from the throat of no living man, charged
him specifically with his crime.
Then went the bonds and all his cohe
sion wholly to pieces and asunder. He
sank to the fleor a miserable, disorganized
heap; and his secret, freed of its bondage,
issued brokenly and hysterically through
his sobbing voice in a wretched confession.
"Gentlemen," said Mr. Enderlin, ad
dressing two uniformed policemen, who
stood at the curtained opening of a closet
behind them, "you have heard his con
fession?"
"Yes, Captain Leonard," responded one
of them, who held a pencil and notebook
in his hand, "and have taken it down
word for word."
"Then take him to the prison, and send
me a nack, as I want to go home. To-mor
row take this clock to Wagner, the clock
maker, with my thanks, and tell him that
his ingenuity in soldering on the plate and
in making the hands run backward worked
to a charm."
[Copyrighted, 1895, by the author.]
BUNKER HILL DAY.
Proponed Celebration by the Ancient
Order of Foresters— A Legal
Holiday.
The Bunker Hill Association met last
evening, William* vj. Badger presiding.
Mr. Falconer, grand secretary of the An
cient Order of Foresters, was present, and
stated that the following resolution was
being prepared to be presented at the
grand session of their order to be held in
this city this month: That the Ancient
Order of Foresters of the Pacific Slope,
representing 150 courts, hhall adopt June
17 as their annual day, and shall com
memorate it with exercises peculiar to the
sacredness and historic value of the same.
STILL SEEK OEGANIZATION.
Actresses Make Another Attempt to
1 011 ii a I'll ion.
A meeting was held by the actresses of
this City Thursday afternoon in the par
lors of the Langham Hotel to decide upon
the steps to be taken toward organization.
They were divided in opinion.
All wanted a separate organization, but
most of those present thought the number
of members would be so small as to lessen
the effectiveness as the association. The
main division came upon the point as to
whether they should oe a branch of the
Actors' Association of America, with a
man at the head, or become an integral
part of the present lodge.
A long discussion ensued. Some one
moved that they adjourn till it could be
learned whether they would be received by
the male branch of the association.
This was carried. Another meeting will
be held next week. In the meanwhile the
ladies hope to be able to convince the
members of the association that they will
be amply repaid for enforced politeness
and abstinence from profanity and tobacco
by the charms that the presence of the
ladies would add to their meetings.
orr ros yaquina bay.
The Steamer Farallon Sails on Her
Maiden Trip to Oregon.
The steamer Farallon sailed yesterday
afternoon on her maiden trip to Yaquina
Bay with a fair passenger list and some
300 tons of freight. The Farallon has
earned quite a name as a "rate-cutter"
along the coast, and in this new venture
will keep up the reputation she had while
running to Puget Sound.
Passengers will be landed in Portland
via Yaquina Bay for $12 first class, while
freight rates by this steamer are $3 less
per ton than over the old lines. Every
eight days the steamer will sail from Mis
sion-stre*et pier. Her owners expect to se
cure sufficient business from the Eastern
Oregon country to warrant the improve
ment of the service.
The iron crown worn by the King of
Roumania is made from metal taken from
Turkish cannon captured at Plevna in 1877.
IDYLS OF THE FIELDS
BY A NATURALIST AT LARGE.
A BIRD IN THE BUSH.
Who was it that said a bird in the
hand is worth two in the bush?
No one ever made a greater mistake.
I spent yesterday under a bush, and
when I issued from my leafy retreat I
knew that this oft-repeated saying is
merely a rusty, moth-eaten old bit of un
wisdom that should long ago have been
relegated to our intellectual lumber-room.
The man who originated it probably never
saw a bird in the bush. Such cocksure
knowledge as his saying displays is never
born of anything but ignorance.
My bush was a great branching willow
tree. Its long, drooping plumes of foliage
hung down all around me, making a tent
of green wherein might have been spread
a banquet for a prince. A convenient
fork in the trunk gave me a delightful
seat. At my feet ran a tiny thread of a
stream, almost hidden by a thick growth
of cress and water weeds. "Through the
rain of willow branches I could see the
low hills' ranges" and Pan Francisco on
her heights across the bay.
I had decided to spend the day with my
little brothers of the air, and apparently
they very soon got wind of the fact, and
hastened to perform the offices of hos
pitality.
The "feathered throng first sent a tiny
messenger to take note of me, and report
whether I was likely to do harm. This
messenger was a humming-bird, a greenish
bronze fellow, who paused for an instant,
beating his wings in midair, to reconnoiter.
He must have concluded that I was with
out guile, for he presently resumed his in
sect chasing, flying completely around me
as I sat motionless and delighted, watch
ing him. After awhile he perched upon a
little twig, close beside me, and began to
sing. It was surely the queerest little
wiry noise that ever bird uttered. I could
" A Bird in the Bush."
only catch, now and then, a faint, shrill
sound like the highest, most attenuated
note of a violin.
But the tiny chap made as much fuss
over the performance as though he had
been a nightingale. He swelled out his
little throat, ruffled his feathers, flirted his
tail and nearly fell off the twig in his
musical ecstacy. Then he flew away to
make his report.
California is particularly rich in this
variety of bird. There is only one hum
ming-bird found east of the Rocky Moun
tains, while out here we have eight differ
ent representatives of the family. During
my stay under the tree I had a visit from a
rums hummer, tne brilliant little ruby
throat, who is more like a jewel than a
bird.
He did not come until afternoon, how
ever. When the first one, the "broad
tailed" humming-bird, had gone, I had a
much larger visitor. This was a stranger,
all the way from Oregon. One fascinating
feature of bird study is that you never
know what moment you may" be called
upon to entertain distinguished strangers
from any part of the continent. The study
varies, too. through the year. There are
few, if any, varieties of fords among my
trees that" were here six weeks ago. The
winter birds have all gone to the moun
tains, to Washington, Oregon and British
Columbia. They will be back when sum
mer is over, and my gay-colored, fair
weather visitors will ail depart.
This particular Oregonian is a very hand
some bird. It is the Oregon towhee, a
member of the sparrow family, and to the
evolutionists of great interest because of
the modifications it has undergone in color
ing from the common striped ancestor of
this great tribe. The Oregon towhee is
nearly the size of a robin. He has a shin
ing black head and shoulders, with black
and white wings, a very long tail and
bright red sides. His song is a few low
notes and a call that has earned for him
the name of Western catbird. He has a
native cousin, the Californian towhee,
sometimes called the ground robin, or
brown finch. The Californian bird is
Quakerish in his dress, with just a faint
dash of red on the under tail-coverts.
The next bird in my bush was a singer
indeed. I heard him sing before 1 saw
him, and it needed but a glance at his
crimson head to recognize the burion — the
naughty little house-finch, who is in mis
chief from morning until night. I sus
pected this to have been the very chap I
discovered the day before pulling the
clothesline to pieces to get lining material
for his nest, but I forgave him for the sake
of his sweet song.
While I was listening to the finch a
golden-crowned warbler came dashing
down into my greenery. He was an im
petuous creature, and was off again in a
minute to the roof of the wagon shed.
Here a passion-vine was being trained by
strings up the side of the wall. The warbler
espied these strings and was soon having
high frolic with them. ■ He would seize :>ne
in each claw and, head downward, swing
back and forth in a perfect frenzy
of delight. He hung, first by one claw,
then by the other, all the time keeping up
an interrupted melody, as though he
could not stop singing, even for his play.
By and by a lady of his own kind alighted
upon a near-by scrub-oak bush. Instantly
our warbler was at present arms. Such a
righting of himself! Such a preening of
wings and ruttted plumage, and then our
gay young bachelor darted over to the
scrub-oak bush, quite evidently a-wooing
gone. He spread his wings and tail, sing
ing softly the while, and fluttered about
the sober little lady, all a-quiver with
anxiety. She, meantime, was considering
him quite seriously. He was brave to look
upon, but could she take him as a mate?
Could she trust him to hunt and fend for
her, and protect her through the nesting
mysteries of maternity.
t cannot tell how she was guided in the
matter. Perhaps she had witnessed the
swinging performance, and deemed him
altogether too light-minded a bird to as
sume family cares. At all events, with a
final eloquent flirtof the tail, she presently
Hew away. He sat disconsolate for a min
ute and "then darted after her. Ido not
doubt but that he pressed nis suit further
on some other bush.
But I speedily forgot all about him and
his moving, for with a great rush and
whirring of wings there suddenly flamed
about niy bush half a dozen orioles, a
blaze of orange and white and sun reflect
ing black. They perched upon the highest
boughs, and in an instant the tree was
alive with melody. How they did sing,«
these sunbeams of' birds! Whoever heard
them could never say, again, that we have
no singing birds in California.
After the orioles had departed there
came to my bush, singly, and by twos and
threes, a constant procession of birds.
There were song sparrows and white
capped warblers, wrens, house sparrows
I and the pretty, yellow summer warblers,
I goldfinches, and a single beautiful crim
j son tannger, who stayed for a long time,
flitting from branch to branch. A black
j headed grosbeak stopped for a moment and
passed a musical time of day, on his way
up the hill to dine in my neighbor's pine
trees.
All the morning a pair of demure little
I house wrens had been Hitting back and
| forth between the tree and a patch of tall
i yellow thistles that grew beside the stream.
! They were evidently lining their nests with
| the soft white down of the thistle seeds.
i Despite the fact that they flew boldly in
! and out before me I could not find their
i nest for a long time. At last I discovered
it. Far up in the tree was a limb that at
some time or other had received a terrible
wound. Some sharp weapon had pene
| trated to the very heart of the wood, cut
ting a deep, wide "gash. In time the pro-
I cess of healing curled the new bark in a
; smooth ring all around the wound, making
! a dreadful scar. In trie hollow thus formed
j the wrens were building, the kindly tree
affording them in the depth of its wounded
heart a safe shelter.
Two birds that I gladly welcomed to my
bush were bluebirds. These are rather
rare birds hereabouts, but they are sweet
singers, and well worth cultivating. Like
their Eastern cousins, they are quick to
take advantage of bird boxes, and if these
are put out for them they can readily be
coaxed to build in them.
A whole bevy of black-capped warblers
flew in upon me at one time, and settled
j down, in no way disconcerted by my pres
i ence. Once there was a great twitter and
\ commotion outside, and fully a score of
; birds fled for shelter to the friendly tree.
! Looking upward I spied a sparrow hawk
I flying high above us. He eot no game in
that quarter, though, and soon faded away
to a mere speck in the high air.
I remained under my bush from early in
the forenoon until long past luncneon
time, and could not begin to keep count of
the birds I saw there. I learned long be
fore I left that a bird in the bush is worth
many in the hand.
There were one or two visitors that I
failed to recognize, and this fact really de
tracted from my pleasure. It is a delight
to know the name even of a passing bird —
to hail him by it. And the birds are so
well worth knowing. There is something
in the human soul that nothing but the
sight or thought of a bird can touch. That
little feathered bunch with the ruby throat
is hardly bigger than my thumb, but he
is far more intensely alive than I am. His
blood is warmer. "His heart beats faster
and his respiration is quicker. He has
emotions and sensations of which I know
nothing — that I can never know.
And he can fly.
We ought to have our Bird day in Cali
fornia, as we have Arbor day. We cannot
have too many days in which we go and
visit Mother Nature. Our children should
be taught to know and^iame and love the
birds. They will be a happier, freer, less
sordid and world-serving generation for
the knowledge. It would do us all good to
know that not always does the value of a
man's life consist in the abundance of
things which he hath ; that a bird in the
hand is not worth two in the bush.
JOY AT OLD ST. MARY`S
! One Hundred and Fifty-Five
Children Confirmed in
the Church.
Archbishop Riordan Presided and
Preached the Confirmation
Sermon.
Old St. Mary's Church on the Mission
road was the scene of impressive confirma
tion ceremonies yesterday. One hundred
and fifty-five boys and girls renewed their
vows of fidelity to the faith of the Catholic
church and were blessed by his Grace
Archbishop Riordan.
The Archbishop presided in the sanctu
ary assisted by Rev. Father Brady, pastor
of the parish, and Rev. Father Lynch, pas
tor of St. James Church.
Mass was begun at 10 a. m. The cele
brant was Rev. J. B. Hannigan of St.
Mary's Cathedral, the latest accession to
the ranks of the clergy from the alumni of
St. Mary's College. Rev. John E. Cottle
was deacon, Rev. M. D. Cottle sub-deacon
and Rev. P. E. Mulligan master of cere
monies. The choir was composed of
students in the college. The singing was
excellent, particularly the "Aye Maria"
sung by Mr. Jaunet in his remarkable
soprano voice.
At the end of the mass his Grace the
Archbishop preached a sermon, taking as
a text: "You have not chosen me. but I
have chosen you. I have appointed you
to go and bring fruit, and your fruit shall
remain." The speaker drew a graphic
picture of Christ as he was giving his com
mand to the apostles. In the course of his
remarks the Archbishop said:
"The same command has been given to
ns that we, too, go forth and Bring in
fruits. This we can do only by living lives
of virtue, by exemplifying in our conduct
the teachings of Christ. We must not
only preach virtue, we must act virtue."
One of the most pleasing features of the
ceremonies was the singing in concert of
sacred hymns by the children. The rea
son why the ceremony was held yesterday
instead of Sunday was that the day was
the Feast of John the Baptist de la Salle,
founder of the Order of Brothers of Christ
ian Schools.
A WIPE'S TROUBLE.
An Upholsterer Deserts His Mate and
Five Children.
Mrs. Henry O. Fensterbusch of 1115
Twenty-fourth street mourns the loss of her
husband, who deserted'her and live small
children some time ago. Fensterbusch is
at Stewarts Point, Sonoma County, where
he is working as a laborer.
Mrs. Fensterbusch has applied to the
Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Chil
dren for relief. She informed Secretary
McComb that her husband was an uphols
terer by trade, and that he was doing well
when he deserted his family. She said he
spent most of his time in saloons, playing
cards and drinking to excess.
Secretary McComb has written to Fens
terbusch in the hope of recalling him to a
sense of his duty. If that fails the law will
be brought to bear upon his case.
Story of Mrs. Paran Stevens.
Nothing could illustrate the proud spirit,
high breeding and polished wit of the late
Mrs. Paran Stevens more forcibly than Mr.
Bill Travers' account of what happened in
a Fifth-avenue stage one day when he was
riding up town, as n* related it one even
ine to a friend at the Union Club. The
stage was lumbering along Fifth avenue,
full of men. and Travers was the last man
in the sta^e on the right next to the door.
The stage stopped and Mrs. Stevens got in
and walked majestically up to about the
middle. Not a man moved or offered his
seat. She paused for a few moments and
then turned facing to the left and began to
count. "One, two, three, four, rive, six";
then she turned to the right and con
tinued, pointing her finger at each man,
"seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve
hogs!" Travers instantly got up, offered
his seat, and said in his peculiarly droll
way: "And, and one s-s-s-sow."--Wash
ington Post.
The total amount of gold in circulation
at the present time is estimated at about
£1,070,000,000, weighing altogether 375 tons.
DR.
HENLEY'S
CELERY
BEEF
AND
FOR
Sleep-
lessness,
Indi-
gestion,
Bilious-
ness.
17