The San Francisco call., 1899-10-22

irreverent of nowadays.
L AdOWn u the houses scOwl in each
others face, and the people are
crowded close enough TO quarrel Ii
q driver takes q whim TO enter from Lom-
bard street at one end or from the street
I forget at the other, ne must make sure
first that no driver from the opposite
street has taken a Ike whim. If a body
meet body on the rocking boards Of the
foot-and-a-half sidewalk, I leave it to his
tact or his fist how ne Will get by.
1t was the jaIEling bell of No. l that l
rang-an old-fashioned pull-bell. like q
white doorknob. Ny formula was as fol-
lows: Find Mrs. Chambers, whose hus-
band was a multi-millionaire of pioneer
days. She lives in poverty with two IN
hecile children 1t was not n pretty form
uIa.
No. l Chambers place crouches below
the level of the sidewalk 1t is little and
square and brown. and its two windows
that face upon the street squint their cur
tains tight against curiosity; which is
probably an idle thing TO do, for curiosity
would not be likely TO bother much. Il
can describe the inside If the door is never
opened" 7 presumptuously said. Three
rooms and a porch, kitchen, highly col
ored kitten chasing a bail on the front
room rug, Tapping scraps of wall paper
stove in the kitchen"
Then the door was opened and my pre-
sumptions scampered any way they
might. not TO he seen.
For from the sight of all that is bleak
and brown and commonplace without, l
stepped into the most remarkable parlor
that many and devious paths have ever
led me into. Here is luxury in the midst
of poverty, elegance where you would eX-
pect elegance to lift disdainful skirts and
pick a hurried way past
From the decaying wreck of a fortune
Mrs. Chambers has saved the gilt-mount-
ed mirrors that tower TO the ceiling Of
their tiny quarters. The rugs have
stretched across the floors of a great
house. The polished walnut piano was a
grand instrument in the days when two
attached candles preceded piano lamps.
and its soul is the tinkling little soul that
once responded TO the notes of Ben
Bolt or The Farmers Life"
I never saw any woman live through
such want as Mrs. Chambers has lived
through and still cling to these beautiful
luxuries. But, then, I never saw any
woman like Mrs. Chambers.
I found her courteous with a fine cour-
tesy and reserved with a fine reserve.
"Wil you tell me something about your
husband and his career"
My husband was a. pioneer. His pic
ture hangs beside the door"
This with the simplicity of grandeur
Inquiry shriveled to impudence. He was
a pioneer. There was his picture. Fur
ther than this what was there that con-
cerned the great hulking, brutal world
that looks for a second, then laughs
coarsely and forgets?
1t was like surgery to go on. Slowly
at first the story came, then faster, un-
til it tumbled forth. a confused heap of
memories and tears and laughs and
dreams. 1t has taken me half a days
mental sorting to get 1t in the least kind
of order, but the hurt of It all was clear
and sharp yesterday and is to-day and
will be tomorrow.
It seems that her mother, Mrs. Wilson.
was a Quaker, and she inherits the
aristocracy Of an old New York Dutch
line from her father. So much for her
start in life.
She was only a little girl and her
braids were still long and her frocks
were short when doctrine split the fam
lily. Mr.. Wilson had turned Baptist and
Mrs. Wilson had gone to the temper
ance platform as a prologue to the sepa-
ration. Then the year of 40 arrived, and
Mrs. Wilson heard that vice stalked
lonely, the ramshackle streets of Califor-
MIA, and she concluded that it would ap-
preciate her better than Mr.. Wilson did.
So she took the Sunday-school books she
had written and the temperance lectures
she had prepared and the little girl to
whom she owed care and love and hap
piness, and she departed by the Panama
route.
When Mrs. Wilson reached San Fran
cisco she found that her Sunday-school
books and her temperance lectures were
not appreciated. People wanted women
to bake and stew for them, but they had
no time nor appetite for spiritual food
Mrs. Wilson was grievously dis
appointed. She had come with the best
of intentions. People did not care
There was no way to be useful.
So she died.
This left one little girl alone in San
FranciscO-the San Francisco of the early
50's. There happened to her just
what happens to story-book little girls
She fell into the hands Of a deaf old maid
'Then. oh. my dear. my troubles COM
menced in earnest She kept me like q
prisoner and made me work hard. 1
was only IL years old. 1 was the most
unhappy child that ever lived"
Following close upon this experience
came a romance. She was a mite OF a
thing TO have a romance; but she was
motherless. and the same as fatherless,
nance away. The guardian tried to, but
failed.
It was during Mrs. Wilson's life that a
friend. Mr. James Chambers, had res
cued mother and daughter from a burn
ing building. The fire broke out in a
Kearny-street house where the Wilson's
lived, and Mr.. Chambers took them to
his home, near the ferry Of these days.
WAS he a wealthy man at that timer"
"Oh, my dear, yes. He and Mr.. Sharon
owned most of the water front. He was
very good to us.
He went to Europe a little while after
that-while my mother still lived, you
understand-and when he left he asked
me what he should send me for present
was wild over my music lessons at that
time, so I said I wanted a piano. But
/ did not really expect It was 80 sur
prised when 1t came. 1t was a thousand
dollar piano, a beautifully toned instru-
ment."
But why did he not look after you
when YopE mother Ged1" I was stguSs