The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1896-06-14

| fuIlv measured his pace to last for those
| two miles or more. Turning the curve he
saw far ahead the sparkle and CLEAN of
the headlight slowly but steadily bearing
down upon him. Not far ahead he saw
another Iight-the signal station. 1t was
a comparatively short distance away, but
! to tired and anxious man il seemed ten
miles instead of half or three-quarters of
mile He did not lose his head in the
crisis, but, carefully judging his pace,
| rushed on, weary but determined. On
| came the iron horse through the darkness,
| like huge reptile, but he rushed forward,
and with his almost exhausted breath
| shouted to the signalman. Fortunately
he was heard, and window was thrown
up. One word and a gesture from the
shadowy figure leaning against tree was
enough, and in half the time it takes to
tell the story the signalman had dropped
| the red light A second more and the
| locomotive passed under it, but not before
the eagle eye of the driver had caught the
signal. The engine was stopped. and the
young fellow was found gasping and ex-
hausted, but happy that he had saved the
train from destruction.
| During my sojourn in Chicago recently
l was told of an incident that bears
directly on the subject and illustrates the
effect of physical training. A passenger
steamer was ashore in Lake Michigan
/ little north of Chicago, and a number OF
| students went out to see the storm and its
effect. They perceived that the occupants
of the doomed ship were in imminent
peril, and one of them, the best athlete in
college, plunged il, swan to the wreck
and returned with passenger. This he
did again, and two were saved. Not con-
tent he plunged in again and again. each
| time rescuing an unfortunate from
watery grave. Now comes the incredible
| part of the story--but it was related in
public by person of the highest respect
ability-before he stopped the young
man had saved the lives of seventeen per-
sons.
The saddest part has yet to be told. The
awful strain upon the vitality and nerve
force-for the young mans will was
greater than his body-was such that he
sank upon the beach an utter wreck ply
sically and mentally and exists to-day
strong enough only to crawl about like
the merest infant and with memory SUI
fcient only to remember the principal
events of life, but particularly that awful
day of heroism, and to feebly ask his
brother occasionally if he did his duty.
Ignoring sneers of the selfish, who be-
heve in looking out for Number One first
last and all the time, consider what glo-
rious thing it is to rescue the helpless
from peril by the strength of a we'll trained
body, even though in a herculean effort
the human frame gives way after the work
is done.
Then there are other reasons for desiring
to be well trained. The athlete who en-
joys his work can testify what satisfaction
and pleasure are the fruits of severe but
discreet exercise. When training is cast
aside for a time the muscles become rest
less and clamor for work. Even those
who have forsaken the excellent path by
which they were travelling for a
less noble life ofluxury and self-indulgence
will admit that the latter course gives far
less satisfaction and genuine pleasure, even
though the former does not tickle the
palate or minister to the cravings of a
lower nature.
The mental advantages are as weighty
as the preceding. Business over, the exer-
else is taken, followed by the sponge bath,
the rub down, supper eaten with keen
relish, and sleep that is the nearest ap-
proach to perfect rest that 1 know of on
this earth.
Now what is to be expected when such a
man goes down to business the next day
How could it be possible that such crea-
ture in such state of existence would
transact business in any thing but cheer
full frame of mind, with a clear brain,
steady hand, and, in short measure of
health that is better felt than described,
better practiced than taught-a life seldom
| if ever enjoyed by the slave of luxury.
GEORGE D. BAIRD.