The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1891-11-08
Sad Destiny That Followed an Old Wood
CaTHGr'S Masterpiece.
As Beautiful ss an Artists Dream, but Fatal
to Those Who Loved 1t Best-sunset in
the Tropics-In Old Oceans Bed


al tiodu away, duI dll ttldl EcmdlIlou were wv U
silent figures, one glorifed with the touches
Of genius. standing pure aud holy as if in
prayer; the other flesh clay, wrapt in the
gloom of eternity.
How should the gathering crowd of curl
GUS and sympathizing men and women, all
deniZens of toll land know that the twin
figures before them marked the apex of a
life tragedy? In their narrow, laborious ex-
They had been neighbors to the patient,
pride lie always felt in his fgureheads.
Only little while before they stood by
the grave of fair young girl, the last of
her race, one who had been to the old man
more companion than grandchild.
But now. as they linger in the gathering
twilight, awed by the presence of death, and
gaze upon the exquisite face and form Of his
last figure, they feel instinctively that
all the tenderness and grief of old age, sor-
rowing tor the loss of youthful affection,
has been written on that sylvan page.
Through the solemn mystery of mind act
ing upon matter, Grief copied the fairest por-
trait that hung on the walls of memory, and
this done the artist fell asleep.
A glorious New England day. Earth and
sky blend in autumnal perfection. The
landscape is rich with the glowing colors that
Jack Frost works so deity into leaf and
stem Far westward looms out strongly
against the radiant sky the granite crest of
Mount Washington, while
Faint smoke wreath, white and thin,
Swells iu the north vast Katahdin.
In famous ship building yard OF the
Pine Tree State active preparations for a
launch are being made. Since dawn of day
workmen have been employed in the final
task of loOsenng shores and spurs. Dur
ing many months the music of ringing an
wills and the rnVthmip stroke Of m n OF nd
AK have kept in unison with the swift tread
of time. Hour by hour the graceful out
lines of the model have advanced into the
stately contour of ship. and now she Stands
forth proudly
The bride of the gray old sea.
1t happened that an art critic viewed
the figure. Having examined it from the
lofty heights of his esthetic Judgment he
descends TO the plain earth, and for once
merges his usual cold tone of reluctant ap-
proyal into rha sody of praise. For the
first time in his conservative existence he
finds the nude Paphians of the Paris salon
to be vulgar homage to most depraved
taste and wins the irony and scorn of his
fellOw-critics by asserting that drapely and
art are not Incompatible.
He even ventures so far as to condemn
the destined place of the figure at the PROV
of ship as little short of sacrilege.
But the ship-buiders are practical men,
Dchk OI HOHt1 -SctilDEy HUI StuiIllcut. 1uty
justly claim that they lave more than rec
ompensed the old carver for his work, and
have not contracted to pay for high art. So
the figure is fitted in its place in the new
ship, and now, like a snow-whte emblem of
Peace, it stands in grace and beauty by the
ships PROV.
A vast multitude, attracted by the story,
have assembled to see the ship launched.
Yachts, barges and steamboats, crow ded
with humanity wait the long-delayed event.
hundreds OF glasses are leveled at the
ngurehead, and nearer eyes are drawn to it
rs if by magnet. A stern-faeed man looks
thoughtfuiy at its gentle face, and then
turns his glance far away to the seaward,
where the sparkling waves dance in the
morning sun. He is awakened TO The MEM
DRY of time in the glad morning of his
own lie, before fate launched him forth to
do battle in the great ocean of human selfish
ness. He goes back to a time when purity
and love dwelt, like the ships fgurehead
at the PROV of his destiny.
At last the expectant moment comes. The
signal is given. Majestcaly the vessel
gides down to the waiting sea and the
event is over.
AS she floats so placidly upon the waters
Of old ocean neither owners nor the ap-
plaudng crowd can pierce the veil OF futur-
ity and follow her career
1t Is already written in the book of fate
few swift voyages and then oblivion.
II - HlEht III famous seaport OF Inc New
World, the Queen City of the Pacific. By
one Of many docks R deep-laden ship is
lying. Her PROV is toward the city, and
under the vivid CLEAN of the electric light
there looms out fair and pure her ow-whlte
tigurehead. All day long the busy wharves
have echoed to the noisy wheels of COM
merce. But darkness has stilled the tumult
aud silence now
Is broodlng like gentle spirit Ger
The still and puiseless world.
ifrlt h,,o 81.
ers vanish, and naught is heard but the
hushed murmur of the flowing tide. When
the stiffness seems most complete and life
has vanished from the scene, low, stifled
moan breaks upon the ear. 1t is some
creature in distress. Hark Again it comes.
Like the far wind harp's wild and touch
ing wall" sigh of anguish torn from a
Sorrowing heart.
Out of the thick gloom of night and into
the ghostly circle of the electric light moves
slight figure. 1t is young woman. She
clasps convulSively at her bosom the folds
of black shawl. Her head is bare, and as
she totters painfully along her lips are seen
to move in supplicatiOn. There are marks
OF beauty on her face, sad proofs of her con-
dition.
For moment she leans her tired head
against friendly moorng-post as if it were
human, and offered that sympathy that self
ish humanity ever denies To erring woman
kind. But while she pauses, her eyes are
drawn 10 the Prov of the Halcyon.
Fascinated as with u vision from another
world, she comes nearer and crouching be-
hind a protecting shadow looks silently at
the figure. Many minutes elapse. At last
she trembleS in the chill night air and
drawing her faded shawl more closely about
her shoulders means brokenly her last orr
son.
Why do you look so pure and goodp Is
it because you have no pain, no hunger, no
griefP You never felt shame and sorrow as
have done; you never knew happy home
you never loved and trusted and were
deceived; you did not drag loving mother
down TO her untimey grave for the mistake
of moment. Oh. no! Cold and still. you
are ever the same" Then stretching her
clasped hands toward the bright stars, she
prayed: "Oh, mother. deaf dear mother
If you could see me now if you could look
down from heaven and see what / shall do
tonight, would you forgive me? Would you
forget the shame l caused, the grief that
killed you, aud love me once agaiu?"
Then burying her poor sad face in her
hands, She ntterS once more the same
plteous moan and creeps away into the gloom
again.
The silent figure prompts better life.
But it is not the life of this world.
1t whispers to willing ears that aim OF
deepest sorrow peace. 1t brings forth
sobs OF repentance, but only haStens the
last act in the drama Of life.
1t is an hour later: A drOwsy old watch
man is startled from his nap by the despair
ing cry of a human voice. He hears q
woman Call upon her Makers name and
then catches the echo of faint splash and
all is STILL The dark waters open to re-
ceive fragile form and then close over il
| forever.
| Another victim OF our boosted civilization.
Another tragedy growing out of misplaced
affection and blighted home. The watch,
| man soon falls asleep again. The bushed
murmur of the flowing tide and deep dark,
ness once more. guard the night But where
is the foul mscreant who has done thl;
great wrong? Alas for theory that con
| dennis the innocent for the crime of the
| guilty. The fiend who can thus wreck hap
pinsss, home and life itself deserves worst
fate than that too often melted out to inno-
| cence.
With the poor erring one everything il
changed. Llfe's bitterness is gone. Sh,
| has found peace.
Sunset in the tropics. Red and gold every
where. The sea laughs back at the blush
ing sky its myriad hues. A broad track o