anaheim-gazette 1903-09-24

A MUSICAL NATION By RAYMOND RAYNE Copyright, 1908, by T. C. McClure Among the many unpleasant tasks which fall to the lot of a concert agent not the least difficult is to decline the tempting offers of certain virtuosi without hurting their very sensitive feelings. When Pan Ogle Trepanowski wrote to me from Poland in this sense, my first impulse was to indicate a very firm refusal. Reading his letter a second time, however, I gathered from the mixture of English and what appeared to be Volapuk, in which his intentions were conveyed, that he was following on its heels with such truly artistic impetuosity that no reply could possibly reach him in time to prevent his departure. All his qualifications were duly set forth. Of course his hair (he inclosed a photograph) and his names were exceptional; the rest I did not go into. It was quite out of the question for me to run any planoforte virtuoso on my own account, unless indeed it had been the Paderewski himself. On the morning of the 14th I received a telegram couched in these terms: "Locomotive twelve hours permit that one encounters me to the station Trepanowski." On solving this—he had evidently got it word by word from a dictionary—I gathered that the professor was coming by way of Quebec on the 12 o'clock train, and wanted to be met at the station. I went down myself and saw the train in. Pan Ogle was there—a private detective could not have missed him. He stood well over six feet and was broad even for his height. Despite the warmth of a summer's day he wore an immense fur lined overcoat with collar and cuffs of sable. He spoke English rather worse than he wrote it, but fortunately understood fairly well what was said to him. He was full of questions about the series of concerts which he supposed I had already arranged for him. I avoided giving any definite replies as well as I could until we reached the house. During luncheon I was saved any trouble by the artist's appetite, which was well sustained and did credit to my housekeeping. We retired to the of blacking boots, his hands and arms bore unmistakable signs of his employment, this evidence being eked out by a large black smear down one side of his nose. He carried his violoncello in one hand and his bow in the other. "You did not tell me you played the cello," I said to William. "I want you to show this gentleman how three Americans can play this trio of Smetana. Do you think you can manage it?" I handed him the music which I had taken from the bookcase. He laid down his bow and rubbed his hand on his trousers before turning over the leaves with a gingerly thumb and forefinger. "It looks rather stiff, but I'll have a go at it, sir." The technical difficulties of this romantic work of Smetana are extreme, even when they are familiar, but to render the composition at slight with the freedom and almond which it demands might fairly be deemed impossible. Nevertheless on this occasion the astounded professor heard a performance wherein the complete mastery of the several instruments was surpassed by the unanimity and poetry of the rendering. Trepanowski declared he had never heard such an ensemble. His admiration was so frank and general that I began to have scruples of conscience. It was too late to go back, however. I pressed him to play. He declined politely, but firmly. I dismissed the performers with thanks for the exercise of their skill. The professor adding many compliments both intelligible and otherwise. When we found ourselves alone Trepanowski remained silent. "It is merveilleux!" he ejaculated at length. "What then are your public artists like?" "You have heard D'Eugen?" I inquired in turn. "Ja, ja. He is magnifique!" "Well, he left America. Why did he leave England? You shall answer the question for yourself." He gave another shrug. "I shall think; I shall write to you; one thousand time thanks." I insisted on seeing him to the station. On the way he was wrapped in a gloomy silence. Only when we arrived on the platform did he recover a little. A harsh voiced porter was calling out the various stopping places of the incoming train. The professor touched him on the shoulder. "My friend, what instrument do you blay?" he asked sadly. The porter looked at him in surprise. "Chicago express," he said from sheer date was the 5th of It was a Friday, and yet thieple who affect to believe that not a day singled out from panions for mystery, strange disaster. The number of the 222. The hotel I shall call bof the Grand Junction Terme. The Grand Junction is night in the week except for urday and Sunday. Every traveler knows that, except nights, if he wishes to secure he must write or telegraph vance. And there are 400 bIt was somewhat late in when I arrived in L——. Of the moment I decided to Grand Junction if there were me. It is thus that fate woe I walked into the hall, for platform porter with my place seemed just as usual, tion of the commonplace, like and the unspiritual. "Have you a room?" I young lady in black whose shone gayly at the office with the electric light. She glanced at the ledger passive and detached mannel young ladies with yellow riably affect and ejaculated. "No. 221." "Pity you couldn't make it ventured, with timid jocular could I guess the import of saying? She smiled very slightly tant condescension: "Nam manded." "Edge." In another moment I was victor. No. 221 was the last door end of the eastern corner fourth floor. It proved to bedded room, large, exquisitely appointed in comfort. In short, it was bistle of the hotel, I knew He stood well over six feet and was broad even for his height. Despite the warmth of a summer's day he wore an immense fur lined overcoat with collar and cuffs of sable. He spoke English rather worse than he wrote it, but fortunately understood fairly well what was said to him. He was full of questions about the series of concerts which he supposed I had already arranged for him. I avoided giving any definite replies as well as I could until we reached the house. During luncheon I was saved any trouble by the artist's appetite, which was well sustained and did credit to my housekeeping. We retired to the music room, and I got Pan Ogle behind a big cigar before breaking to him that I had not yet arranged any concerts. I told him that many most deserving foreign artists spent their first decade in New York in playing for nothing at the functions of wealthy patrons of the art and in giving their services at charity concerts, or, in fact, wherever two or three could be gathered together to hear them. I said that was a popular error into which all Europe seemed to have fallen. I told him we were the most musical nation in the world. I sank my voice to a confidential whisper. I said, "The real reason we cannot get audiences is that for some time past listeners have been to a man (or a woman) better performers than those on the platform." Pan Ogle looked incredulous. It was time to lead trumps. I said, "I will wager anything you like that the first tradesman who calls at this house this afternoon will play you any one of Beethoven's sonatas you choose to name." Pan Ogle laughed aloud. "You make what you call ze fun, is it not?" he asked. "I was never more serious in my life," I replied. I rang the bell, and the servant entered. "Parkin," I said, "ask the first tradesman who calls to step up here." "Mr. Blunt, the pork butcher, is downstairs now, sir," said Parkin. "Well, ask him to spare me a moment or two." "Yes, sir," replied the impassive Parkin and disappeared. The door opened, and Mr. Blunt walked in. He was in his shirt sleeves and had on the blue apron which seems inseparable from the vending of pork. "What can I do for you today, sir?" he said. "I have just started a new line of sausages which I can thoroughly recommend. I call them the Dimin uendo brand merely for distinction They taper toward one end, you see." I suppressed a smile. "It was not in connection with your—er—profession that I wanted to see you, Mr. Blunt. Do you play the piano?" "Well, I do, sir, or, rather, I did. In fact, I very much wanted to go in for the music when I left school, but my father would not bear it. He said there was no money in it. The music business is played out,' he would say. 'There are too many at it. But the art of making sausages will always provide a competency for the few.'" "Quite true, Mr. Blunt," I assented. "Now, the professor and I are at issue as to the tempo of a movement in one of Beethoven's sonatas, and I should be greatly obliged if you would play it to us. It is the first movement of opus 1." Ideals of Beauty. Famous men and famous judges of beauty have differed very greatly in their idea of what constitutes it. Byron liked glossy hair clustering around a white, smooth brow; delicately arched eyebrows and glowing cheeks frequently suffused with blushes. Spenser very explicitly described his style of comeliness. It consisted in "eyes like sapphires, teeth like pearls, a forehead like ivory, hair like gold and hands of silvery whiteness." Shakespeare's beauties always possessed a very white and alabasterlike skin. Scott's heroines were generally soft eyed and pensive, with sweeping eyelashes and high, intellectual foreheads. Ben Jonson preferred a face characterized by simplicity of expression, flowing hair and "a sweet neglect." Cowper placed very high value on cheeks of damask. Group Usually begins with the symptoms of a common cold; there is a chilliness, sneezing, sore throat, hot skin, quick pulse, hoarseness and impeded respiration. Give frequent small doses of Ballard's Horehound Syrup, (the child will cry for it) and at the first sign of a groupy cough, apply frequently Ballard's Snow Limnium externally to the throat. 50c at J. P. Hatzfeld's. A Puzzling Problem. The man seemed to be very much excited. "We've made a bet," he said, "on a question of law, and we've agreed to leave it to you." "I'll do best I can to settle it." returned the great lawyer, gratified by this evidence of the opinion in which he was held. "What is the question of law?" Why, a two dollar cat belonging to Brown ate a ten dollar bird belonging to Jones, and we want to know who has legal title to the combination of bird and cat."—Chicago Post. A Word In Season. The playwright turned pale with excitement and a sudden rush of pride as he heard from his position in the He gave another shrug. "I shall think; I shall write to you; one thousand time thanks." I insisted on seeing him to the station. On the way he was wrapped in a gloomy silence. Only when we arrived on the platform did he recover a little. A harsh voiced porter was calling out the various stopping places of the incoming train. The professor touched him on the shoulder. "My friend, what instrument do you blay?" he asked sadly. The porter looked at him in surprise. "Chicago express," he said from sheer habit and passed on. I parted from the professor with mingled feelings. I had begun to like him. When I returned home I found my three friends, II—S, F—H—and T—W—(an intelligent public will fill the blanks), engaged on a Beethoven trio. I heard from Trepanowski in due time, but his letter was dated from Poland. He had decided not to try his fortune in America. In Ideals of Beauty. Famous men and famous judges of beauty have differed very greatly in their idea of what constitutes it. Byron liked glossy hair clustering around a white, smooth brow; delicately arched eyebrows and glowing cheeks frequently suffused with blushes. Spenser very explicitly described his style of comeliness. It consisted in "eyes like sapphires, teeth like pearls, a forehead like ivory, hair like gold and hands of silvery whiteness." Shakespeare's beauties always possessed a very white and alabasterlike skin. Scott's heroines were generally soft eyed and pensive, with sweeping eyelashes and high, intellectual foreheads. Ben Jonson preferred a face characterized by simplicity of expression, flowing hair and "a sweet neglect." Cowper placed very high value on cheeks of damask. At 3 o'clock I awoke, start, but rather gradually, was exactly 3 o'clock because of a notoriously noisy tone in the neighborhood was thine heard. But the clock had ened me. I felt sure that else, something far more sinful church clock, had been the curtance. I listened. Then I heard that was the sound of a groan room. "Some one indisposed, or mind," I thought lightly, to go to sleep again. But sleep. The groans continue more polignant, more fearsome! I jumped out of bed and tuck light. "That man, whoever he The idea, as it were, sprint throat." Only a man who by his side and trembled be partition could groan like thine put on some clothes and to the corridor. It seemed away into illimitable distance off a solitary electric light! My end was a haunt of glows, except where the opening light from my illuminate the long monochromal carpet. I proceeded to the door no—the door of No. 222, and against the panel. The sound was now much more distressing! I called. N'What's the matter?" I in answer. Then I tried to open but it was fast. "Yes," I said to myself, dying or he's committed a act is feeling sorry for it. I must night porter." I was compelled to find you, Mr. Blunt. Do you play the piano? "Well, I do, sir, or, rather, I did. In fact, I very much wanted to go in for the music when I left school, but my father would not hear of it. He said there was no money in it. "The music business is played out," he would say. "There are too many at it. But the art of making sausages will always provide a competency for the few." "Quite true, Mr. Blunt," I assented. "Now, the professor and I are at issue as to the tempo of a movement in one of Beethoven's sonatas, and I should be greatly obliged if you would play it to us. It is the first movement of opus 8." The pork butcher sat down deferentially on the piano stool, presenting a singularly unmusical spectacle. "I have not had any practice for months; still to oblige a customer," and he struck the commanding phrase which begins the introduction. Before he had played many bars the pork butcher had disappeared and the artist was revealed. The colossal phrases of Beethoven's last sonata were given out with certainty, a restrained force, a nobility of tone, an all-compelling rhythm, which took the listener by the throat. Pan Ogle Trepanowski leaned forward in his chair and gasped for breath. When the last chord had died away there was a hushed pause. Then the professor burst forth into a torrent of polyglot superlatives. He embraced the reluctant pork butcher. He demanded of me why such a player did not devote himself to the career of a virtuoso. I assured him that Mr. Blunt was a fair specimen of the public to whom artists had to appeal in America. "I don't know whether you are aware of it," said Blunt, speaking to me, "but your two servants are capital hands at the violin and cello. They come around to my house for a trio sometimes when they get a Sunday off." I rang the bell, and Parkin again appeared. "Mr. Blunt tells me you play the violin, Parkin," I said. "Please ask William to bring his cello and let us hear a trio." "Yes, sir," answered Parkin, as placidly as if I had ordered whisky and soda. He returned almost immediately, bringing his violin. William followed him: Apparently disturbed in the act question of law, and we've agreed to leave it to you." "I'll do the best I can to settle it." returned the great lawyer, gratified by this evidence of the opinion in which he was held. "What is the question of law?" "Why, a two dollar cat belonging to Brown ate a ten dollar bird belonging to Jones, and we want to know who has legal title to the combination of bird and cat."—Chicago Post. A Word In Season. The playwright turned pale with excitement and a sudden rush of pride as he heard from his position in the wings the sound of stamping feet and roaring voices. "They are calling for the author!" he cried feverishly. "What shall I do? Must I make a speech?" The manager, who had not only heard but seen the audience, took him by the elbow. "The best thing you can do," he whispered, "is to slip out of the stage door and escape while there's time." 21 Years a Dyspeptic R. H. Foster, 318 S. 2d St., Salt Lake City, writes: "I have been bothered with dyspepsia or indigestion for 21 years; tried many doctors without relief; recently I got a bottle of Herbine. One bottle cured me. I am now tapered off on the second. I have recommended it to my friends; it is curing them, too." 50c at J. P. Hatzfeld's. For Rent Furnished front room for rent, inquire at this office. Tax Rate Santa Ana trustees held a special meeting to adjust the city tax rate to conform to the new assessed valuation of the city as determined by the State Board of Equalization. The rate was fixed at $1.78 on each $100. The total assessed valuation for the year is $2,-620.5000, and the amount to be raised is $46,644.90. The rate of $1.78 is divided among the various funds as follows: General fund, 40 cents; street fund, 40 cents; library fund, 8 cents; waterworks fund, 17 cents; sewer fund, 22 cents; common school fund, 15 cents; high school fund, 36 cents. Evil often triumphs, but never conquers. A Bad Stomach Lessens the usefulness and migness of life. It's a weak stomach, a stomach not properly perform its function. Among its symptoms are nausea between meals, belching, vomiting, flatulence and headache. Hood's Sarsapap Cures a bad stomach, indigestion pepsia, and the cure is permanent except where the open allowed the light from my eyes illuminate the long, monotonous carpet. I proceeded to the door near—the door of No. 222, and against the panel. The sound was now much more distressing than before. Here and there an elf sought with its yellow eye gloom. At length I rallied. There's a man either dying in No. 222," I said to the terer. Is that so, sir?" he replied. "Yes," I insisted. "I think I'm not you better do so." If you think he's dying up the manager, Mr. Thom. "Do," I said. The manager slept on the floor and he soon appeared, as man in a terra cotta dressing gown full of sleep, yet alert lousy to do his duty. We all timed our progress to the Arrived in front of No. 222, intently, but we could only occasional groan. He's nearly dead," I manager called aloud, but no answer. Then he vainly opened the door. The night parted and returned with THE EPISODE IN ROOM 222 By ARNOLD BENNETT Copyright, 1908 by T. C. McClure The date was the 5th of November. It was a Friday, and yet there are people who affect to believe that Friday is not a day singled out from its six companions for mystery, strangeness and disaster. The number of the room was 222. The hotel I shall call by the name of the Grand Junction Terminus hotel. The Grand Junction is full every night in the week except Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Every commercial traveler knows that, except on these nights, if he wishes to secure a room he must write or telegraph for it in advance. And there are 400 bedrooms. It was somewhat late in the evening when I arrived in L—. On the spur of the moment I decided to stay at the Grand Junction if there was space for me. It is thus that fate works. I walked into the hall, followed by a platform porter with my bag. The place seemed just as usual, the perfection of the commonplace, the business-like and the unspiritual. "Have you a room?" I asked the young lady in black whose yellow hair shone gaily at the office window under the electric light. She glanced at the ledgers in the impassive and detached manner which hotel young ladies with yellow hair invariably affect and ejaculated: "No. 221." "Pity you couldn't make it all twos," I ventured, with timid jocularity. How could I guess the import of what I was saying? She smiled very slightly with a distant condescension: "Name?" she demanded. "Edge." In another moment I was in the elevator. No. 221 was the last door but one at the end of the eastern corridor of the fourth floor. It proved to be a double bedded room, large, exquisitely ugly, but perfectly appointed in all matters of comfort. In short, it was characteristic of the hotel. I knew that every of steel tongs. With these and the natural ingenuity peculiar to hotel porters he forced open the door, and we entered No. 222. A stout, middle aged man lay on the bed fully dressed in black. On the floor near the bed was a silk hat. As we approached the great body seemed to flutter, and then it lay profoundly and terribly still. The manager put his hand on the man's head and held the glass of his watch to the man's parted lips. "He is dead," said the manager. "H'm!" I said. "I'm sorry you've been put to any inconvenience," said the manager, "and I'm much obliged to you." The cold but polite tone was a request to me to re-enter my own chamber and leave the corpse to the manager and the night porter. I obeyed. "What about that man?" I asked the hall porter early next, or, rather, the same morning. I had not slept a wink since 3 o'clock, nor had I heard a sound in the corridor. "What man, sir?" the porter said. "You know," I returned rather angrily—"the man who died in the night—No. 222." "I assure you, sir," he said, "I haven't the least notion what you mean." Yet his face seemed as honest and open as ever. I inquired at the office for the manager and after some difficulty saw him in his private office. "I thought I'd just see about that man," I began. "What man?" the manager asked exactly as the porter had asked. "Look here," I said, as I was now really annoyed; "it's all very well giving instructions to the hall porter, and I can quite understand you want the thing kept as quiet as possible, but I saw the corpse and was of some assistance to you" "Excuse me," said the manager. "Etther you or I must be completely mad." "Do you mean to say," I remarked, with frosty sarcasm, "that you didn't enter room 222 with me this morning at 3 a.m. and find a dead man there?" "I mean to say just that," he answered. "Well"—I got no further. I paid my bill and left, but before leaving I went and carefully examined the door of No. 222. The door plainly showed marks of some iron instrument. "Here," I said to the porter as I departed. "Accept this half crown from me. I admire you." In the course of my subsequent旅 DEER LACK STAMINA. The Wild and Fetched Animals Are Soon Fagged Out. "It seems to be the opinion of a great many people that deer and antelope are at the top notch among animals as far as speed is concerned," said a Dakota ranchman. "I have often heard the expressions 'as swift as an antelope' and 'he can run like a deer,' but the fact is any good horse can run over Mr. Deer or Mr. Antelope within a mile on level or nearly level ground. "I will guarantee to take any first class cow pony and run down any deer that ever lived inside of two miles, provided the ground be level and the deer has no more than twenty-five or thirty yards start. I often have seen cowboys run down and rope a deer within half a mile. This, of course, can only be done when you are riding up the wind and surprise a bunch of deer or antelope feeding or lying down in a depression where they do not see or scent you till you are almost on them. Over a rough or hilly country your horse wouldn't be in it with a deer. "The action of a deer under full speed reminds me of nothing so much as a seashell sent ricocheting over the surface of smooth water. They don't gallop; they simply bound, and that is where they lose speed over level ground. But I have seen deer bound straight up the side of a mountain and go fully as fast as if on the level, and no living animal can catch them at the uphill game. "Deer have tremendous vitality. I have never seen one drop instantly when shot. They will make a jump or two even when shot through the heart." "Your true deer hunter will never shoot a deer running from him, as the bullet will invariably spoil the hams and hind quarters. Most of the western deer hunters can turn a deer when he is running full speed from him with a shrill whistle. The deer almost always will turn to see what that sound means, only for a fraction of a second. perhaps, but that is the hunter's opportunity, and Mr. Deer generally gets it in the neck about that time."—New York Press. J. W. Thompson and Kate Gazell, both of Los Angeles, were married at Santa Ana on Monday by Judge J. A. Willson. I ventured, with timid jocularity. How could I guess the import of what I was saying? She smiled very slightly with a distant condescension. "Name?" she demanded. "Edge." In another moment I was in the elevator. No. 221 was the last door but one at the end of the eastern corridor of the fourth floor. It proved to be a double bedded room, large, exquisitely ugly, but perfectly appointed in all matters of comfort. In short, it was characteristic of the hotel. I knew that every bedroom in that corridor presented exactly the same aspect. One instinctively felt the impossibility of anything weird, anything bizarre, anything terrible, entering the precincts of an abode so solid, cheerful, orderly and middle class. It will be well for me to relate all that I did that evening. I went down to the billard room and played a hundred up with the marker. To show that my nerves were at least as steady as usual that night I may mention that, although the marker gave me fifty and beat me, I made a break of twenty odd which won his generous approval. The game concluded. I went into the hall and asked the porter if there were any telegrams for me. There were not. I noticed that the porter—it was the night porter, and he had just come on duty—seemed to have a peculiarly honest and attractive face. Wishing him good night, I retired to bed. At 3 o'clock I awoke, not with a start, but rather gradually. I know it was exactly 3 o'clock because the striking of a notoriously noisy church clock in the neighborhood was the first thing I heard. But the clock had not awakened me. I felt sure that something else, something far more sinister than a church clock, had been the origin of disturbance. I listened. Then I heard it again. It was the sound of a groan in the next room. "Some one indulished, either in body or mind," I thought lightly, and I tried to go to sleep again. But I could not sleep. The groans continued and grew more mongrel, more fearsome. At last I jumped out of bed and turned on the light. "That man, whoever he is, is dying." The idea, as it were, sprang at my throat. "Only a man who saw Death by his side and trembled before the apparition could groan like that." I put on some clothes and went into the corridor. It seemed to stretch away into illimitable distance, and far off a solitary electric light glimmered. My end was a haunt of gloomy shadows, except where the open door allowed the light from my bedroom to illuminate the long, monotonous pattern of the carpet. I proceeded to the door next my own—the door of No. 222, and put my ear against the panel. The sound of groans was now much more distinct and more terrifying. I called. No answer. 'What's the matter?' I inquired. No answer. Then I tried to open the door, but it was fast. "Yes," I said to myself, "either he's dying or he's committed a murder and is feeling sorry for it. I must fetch the night porter." I was compelled to find my way ther you or I must be completely mad." "Do you mean to say," I remarked, with frosty sarcasm, "that you didn't enter room 222 with me this morning at 3 a.m. and find a dead man there?" "I mean to say just that," he answered. "Well"—I got no further. I paid my bill and left, but before leaving I went and carefully examined the door of No. 222. The door plainly showed marks of some iron instrument. "Here," I said to the porter as I departed. "Accept this half crown from me. I admire you." In the course of my subsequent travels I once more found myself late one night at the Grand Junction Terminus hotel. "Mr. Edge," said the night porter, "I've been looking out for you weeks and weeks. The manager's compliments, and he would like to see you in his room." Again I saw the youngish, alert manager. "Mr. Edge," he began at once, "it is probable that I owe you an apology. At any rate I think it right to inform you that on the night of the 5th of November, the year before last, exactly twelve months before your last visit here, a stout man died in room No. 222 at 3 a.m. I forgot the circumstance when you last came to see me in this room." "It seems queer," I said coldly, "that you should have forgotten such a circumstance." "The fact is," he replied, "I was not the manager at that time. My predecessor died two days after the discovery of the corpse in room 222." And the night porter—is he, too, a new man? "Yes," said the manager. "The porter who, with the late manager, found the corpse in room 222 is now in Hanwell Lunatic asylum." "Then you think," I said, "that I was the victim of a ballucination on my previous visit here?" "On these matters," said the manager, "I prefer to think nothing." Raised From the Dead. C.W.Landis, "porter" for the Oriental hotel, Chanute, Kan., says: "I know what it was to suffer with neuralgia, deed I did, and I got a bottle of Ballard's Snow Liniment and I was raised from the dead." I tried to get some more, but before I had 'deposed' my bottle, I was cured entirely. I am tellin' de truth too." 25c, 50c and 51 at J.P.Hatzfeld's. FOREIGN RAISINS Report of the consul at Valencia, Spain, August 17, 1903. Valencia and Denia raisin crop, 1903. The high temperatures and protracted drought referred to in my last report as threatening the otherwise brilliant prospects for a heavy raisin crop continued all through the latter half of July and first days of August, seriously reducing the total yield of grapes, which is now estimated to fall short of 500,000 cwt.(25,000 tons), the fruit being also slightly below the average in size. Opening prices are therefore, exceptionally high, 62 pesetas (about $8.50) per 100 kilos (220.4 pounds) being today's quotations, CRYING! What for? If you ask her she will tell you she doesn't know. She just feels nervous, that's all. A man is apt to have very little sympathy with this condition in his wife. He can't see any earthly reason why she should cry. She has plenty to eat, plenty to wear, and he does everything he can; he thinks, to make her happy; and in spite of that, she sits down and cries softly to herself apparently without any cause or reason. But there is a cause, and that cause is some disorder or disease of the delicate womanly organism. Unhealthy drains have taken away the vital force. Inflammation is fretting the nerves of the whole body. If women did but understand the intimate relation of the general health to the local health of the delicate womanly organs they would realize that the quick way to establish the general health is to cure the local disorders. Dr. Pierce's Favorite PreSCRIPT dries the drains that enfeeble women, heals inflammation and ulceration and cures female weakness. It is a medicine that can absolutely be relied upon to make weak women strong and sick women well. It contains no alcohol, and is entirely free from opium, cocaine and all other narcotics. Women suffering from disease in chronic form are invited to consult Dr. Pierce, by letter, free of charge. Dr. Pierce, assisted by his staff of nearly a score of physicians, has in a little over thirty years treated and cured more than half a million sick and ailing women. All correspondence is strictly private and sacredly confidential. Address Dr.R.V.Pierce,663 Main Street,Buffalo,N.Y. OOULD SOAROELY WALK. For the sake of poor, suffering women, I feel it my duty to inform you of the great benefit your medicine has given me," writes Mrs.Calie Bowles of Watts, Ireland Co.N.C., "I was in a miserable condition when we wrote to her and interceded so hard for me." I could scarcely walk and suffered such dreddful misery I hoped to take relief by death. You wrote to me to take ows, except where the open door allowed the light from my bedroom to illuminate the long, monotonous pattern of the carpet. I proceeded to the door next my own—the door of No. 222, and put my ear against the panel. The sound of groans was now much more distinct and more terrifying. I called. No answer. "What's the matter?" I inquired. No answer. Then I tried to open the door, but it was fast. "Yes," I said to myself, "either he's dying or he's committed a murder and is feeling sorry for it. I must fetch the night porter." I was compelled to find my way along endless corridors and down flights of stairs apparently innumerable. Here and there an electric light sought with its yellow eye to pierce the gloom. At length I reached the hall. "There's a man either dying or very ill in No. 222," I said to the night porter. "Is that so, sir?" he replied. "Yes," I insisted. "I think he's dying. Hadn't you better do something?" "I am you think he's dying, sir, I'll call up the manager, Mr. Thom." "Do," I said. The manager slept on the first floor, and he soon appeared, a youngish man in a terra cotta dressing gown, his eyes full of sleep, yet alert and anxious to do his duty. We all three continued our progress to the fourth floor. Arrived in front of No. 222, we listened intently, but we could only hear a faint occasional groan. "He's nearly dead," I said. The manager called aloud, but there was no answer. Then he vainly tried to open the door. The night porter departed and returned with a stout pair A Bad Stomach Lessens the usefulness and mars the happiness of life. It's a weak stomach, a stomach that can not properly perform its functions. Among its symptoms are distress after eating, nausea between meals, heartburn, belching, vomiting, flatulence and nervous headache. Hood's Sarsaparilla Cures a bad stomach, indigestion and dyspepsia, and the cure is permanent. Accept no substitute. The high temperatures and protracted drought referred to in my last report as threatening the otherwise brilliant prospects for a heavy raisin crop continued all through the latter half of July and first days of August, seriously reducing the total yield of grapes, which is now estimated to fall short of 500,000 cwt. (25,000 tons), the fruit being also slightly below the average in size. Opening prices are therefore, exceptionally high, 62 pesetas (about $8.50) per 100 kilos (220.4 pounds) being today's quotations, which gives the following average equivalent values in United States currency: Offstock, 9 cts. per kilo (21-5 lbs.) c.i.f.* New York. Fine offstock, 9½ cts. per kilo, c.i.f., New York. Finest offstalk, 10½ cts. per kilo, c.i.f., New York. Layers, 2 crowns, 10½ cts. per kilo, c.i.f., New York. Layers, 3 crowns, 11½ cts. per kilo, c.i.f., New York. Layers, 4 crowns, 12½ cts. per kilo, c.i.f., New York. (Signed) J. L. BYRNE, U.S. Vice and Deputy Consul. *C.i.f. f.-cost including freight. The Whole Story in one letter about Pain-Killer (PERRY DAVIS') From Capt. F. Loye, Police Station No. 5, Montreal:—"We frequently use Perry Davis' Pain-Killer for pains in the stomach, rheumatism, stiffness, frost bites, chills, cramps, and all afflictions which befall men in our position. I have no hesitation in saying that Pain-Killer is the best remedy to have near at hand." Used Internally and Externally. Two Sizes, 25c. and 50c. bottles. Women suffering from disease in chronic form are invited to consult Dr. Pierce, by letter, free of charge. Dr. Pierce, assisted by his staff of nearly a score of physicians, has in a little over thirty years treated and cured more than half a million sick and ailing women. All correspondence is strictly private and sacredly confidential. Address Dr. R. V. Pierce, 663 Main Street, Buffalo, N.Y. OOULD SOAROELY WALK. "For the sake of poor, suffering women, I feel it my duty to inform you of the great benefit your medicine has given me," writes Mrs. Callie Bowles, of Watts, Iredell Co., N.C. "I was in a miserable condition when I wrote to you. I had uterine disease so bad I could scarcely walk and suffered such dreadful misery I hoped to be relieved by death. You wrote to me Golden Your Vavore Prescription" and I have taken eleven bottles of it, and two of your Pleasant Pellets. I am entirely well and feel like a new woman. I feel thankful to God and to Doctor Pierce for the blessings I now enjoy. I have a fine, big boy, two months old and never got along as well in my life. I can't praise your medicines enough." NO USE FOR DOOTORS. "About five years ago I had very poor health," writes Mrs. S. E. Whalen, of Holden, Johnson Co., Missouri. "After doctoring four years with our town doctors they gave my case up; said they had done all they could. I had been confined to my bed half my time; the other half could hardly drag around. I had such pains in my back and abdomen I could not stand on my feet for more than a few minutes. My feet were cold or burning, and my periods came too often. The doctors said it was change of life, so as I had heard of Dr. Pierce's medicines, my husband got me a bottle of 'Favorite Prescription.' I took it and it helped me in some ways, so I wrote to you and followed your advice. I commenced 'Favorite Prescription'; 'Golden Medical Discovery' and 'Pleasant Pellets.' As I was so constipated all the time and pills would weaken me so that I would have to go to bed. To the great surprise of everybody I got well, and when I met my friends they would say,' I never thought you would be here now.' But I can say it was your medicine, which no doubt is the best in the world. Have had no use for doctors since I tried your medicine." Dr. Pierce's Pleasant Pellets are an effective medicine for the bowels and liver. They do not re-act upon the system. Nasal CATARRH In all its stages. Ely's Cream Balm cleanses, soothes and heals the diseased membrane. It cures catarrh and drives away a cold in the head quickly. Cream Balm is placed into the nostrils, spreads over the membrane and is absorbed. Relief is immediate and a cure follows. It is not drying—does not produce sneezing. Large Size, 50 cents at Druggists or by mail; Trial Size, 10 cents. ELY BROTHERS, 56 Warren Street, New York The distracting headaches from which so many women suffer make life a daily purgatory. If men suffered with headache as women do, business would be almost at a stanstill. Does not the fact that men do not suffer from these severe headaches suggest that there must be a womanly cause for them? When the womanly organism is diseased, headache, backache, nervousness and sleeplessness are consequences which are sure to follow. Dr. Pierce's Favorite Prescription cures headaches and other aches and pains by curing their cause. It establishes regularity, dries unhealthy drains, heals inflammation and ulceration, and cures female weakness. It soothes pain and builds up the nerves. It transforms weak, sickly, nervous invalids into happy, healthy women. Thousands have testified to its marvelous merits. "I took two bottles of your 'Favorite Prescription' and two of the 'Golden Medical Discovery' and am feeling well," writes Mrs. Dan McKennie, of Lorway Mines, Cape Breton Co., Nova Scotia. "I had uterine trouble, pain in the side and headache. After taking your medicines I got well. You may publish this or use it in any way you think best, as I cannot speak too highly of Dr. Pierce and his medicines." "Favorite Prescription" has the testimony of thousands of women to its complete cure of womanly diseases. Do not accept an unknown and unproved substitute in its place. FREE. Dr. Pierce's Common Sense Medical Adviser is sent free on receipt of stamps to pay expense of mailing only. Send twenty-one one-cent stamps for the book in paper covers, or thirty-one stamps for the cloth-bound volume. Address Dr. R. V. Pierce, Buffalo, N. Y. FACTS ABOUT ANAHEIM. Sketch of the industries and Resources on this Most Beautiful Part of California. The City of Anaheim, with a population of 2500, is situated in the northern part of Orange county, in southern California, 12 miles from the ocean, 4½ miles from the foot-ills, and 148½ feet above sea level. It is 27 miles from Los Angeles, the second largest city in the State of California. The climatic conditions are the most favorable for out-door life to be found in Southern California. SPANISH ANTIQUITIES One of the most interesting and valuable exhibits at the chamber of commerce headquarters in Santa Ana is the collection of rare old Spanish and Indian relias from the private collection of Don Marco Forster of Capistrano, who has personally gathered most of the curios from the old missions and homes of the early residents of the Santa Ana and Capistrano valleys. The articles arrived at the chamber last week and are now being put in cases for public exhibition. Some of the relias could not be duplicated anywhere. Among other articles are the iron plumb used in building the San Juan Capistrano mission, volumes of hand-illuminated text from the old mission libraries, old mission swords, two antique bronzes, mortars used in saluting at the San Juan mission on saints’ days, an old Spanish blunderbuss, old Mexican spurs inlaid with silver and bearing the Mexican national emblem in hand-worked design, old leather trousers and leggins of curious design. The Indian and Mexican embroidery work forms an interesting part of the collection. In this are three hand-made shawls embroidered in blue, white and purple by the mission workers in 1835; lace towels, large Spanish silk handkerchiefs in drawn work, a sarape used in the mission more than 150 years ago, and other articles of interest. PUTTING ON STYLE "Have they changed much since they inherited all that money?" "Yes, indeed. Why, they have three names hyphenated now, and they’ve changed the spelling of their daughter’s name from Mamie to Mayme." How’s This? We offer one hundred dollars reward for any case of catarrh that cannot be cured by Hall’s Catarrh Cure. F. J. CHENEY & Co., Toledo, O. We, the undersigned, have known F. J. Cheney for the last 15 years and believe him perfectly honorable in all business transactions, and financially able to carry out any obligations made by their firm. WEST & TRUAX. Wholesale Druggists, Toledo, Ohio. WALDING, KINNAN & MARVIN. Wholesale Druggists, Toledo, Ohio. Hall’s Catarrh Cure is taken internally, acting directly upon the blood and mucous surfaces of the system. Testimonials sent free. Price 7c. per bottle. Sold by all druggists. Hall’s Family Pills are the best. Rates to Oceanside and Coronado Until September 10, 1903, the Santa Fe will sell excursion tickets to Ocean Beaches as follows: To Oceanside and return, with final limit 20 days from date of sale; rate The City of Anaheim, with a population of 2500, is situated in the northern part of Orange county, in Southern California, 12 miles from the ocean, 4½ miles from the foot-lands, and 148½ feet above sea level. It is 27 miles from Los Angeles, the second largest city in the State of California. The climatic conditions are the most favorable for out-door life to be found in Southern California. The temperature is extremely uniform, seldom rising above 90 degrees in summer, or falling below 32 degrees in winter. The abundance of sunlight and the absence of sharp rosts and cold winds make it a place especially acceptable to those desiring to escape the severe climate of the east. The country is very attractive. It is practically level, with just sufficient slope from the hills to afford adequate drainage. The roads are level, well graded, and well kept, affording excellent opportunities for cycling and driving. The soil is a rich sandy loam which never bakes, making it a very easy ground to work; thus lending itself readily to the cultivation of berries, nuts, oranges, etc. The variety of products, and the possibility of procuring small tracts of land at low figures, and on easy terms, make our section of the county very attractive and advantageous for truck raising, or for farming on a small scale. The following are a few of the products: oranges, lemons, walnuts, grapes, peaches, apricots, sugar beets, berries and vegetables of all kinds. Anaheim is the possessor of a building and Loan Association, Water company, two railroads, fruit cannery and drier, large oil industry, strich farm, bank, several adequate commercial houses, two hotels and two newspapers. The city also owns its water and lighting plant. FACTS ABOUT ORANGE CO. The census bureau has issued a bulletin on agriculture in California which we quote from extensively in another part of this issue. One of the interesting features of the report is the paragraph giving the number of farms and acres of farming lands in the five Southern California counties. The pre-eminence of Orange County is apparent: Counties. No. farms. Acres. Los Angeles...6577. 895,063 Orange...2388. 599,436 Riverside...2340. 427,097 San Bernardino...2350. 219,182 San Diego...2698. 809,419 But it is in the acreage of irrigated land that Orange county takes care of. Rates to Oceanside and Coronado Until September 10, 1903, the Santa Fe will sell excursion tickets to Ocean Beaches as follows: To Oceanside and return, with final limit 30 days from date of sale; rate $2.25. To Coronado and return, with final limit to September 30, 1903; rate $3.50. Special excursions to San Diego July 3d and 4th, July 31st and August 1st, August 28th and 29th; rate of fare $3.00 for round trip. Final return limit 30 days from date of sale. For full particulars call on Santa Fe agent at Anaheim. Santa Barbara Excursion Season 1903. The Southern Pacific Company will sell special round-trip tickets to Santa Barbara and return as follows: Return limit 30 days from date of sale. The fare from Anaheim will be $3.25 with stop-over privileges in both directions at Ventura and Santa Paula only. Dates of sale June 12th and 13th, July 3rd and 4th, August 7th and 8th, September 4th and 5th. THE SANDERS-ARNOTT DISC PLOW. The solid cast frame now being used on the Sanders-Arnott Disc Plow is the most valuable feature added to the Disc Plow since they were placed on sale. See them before buying. No more sprung beams out of line or boots sheared off. We have a new pattern four gang plow for the largest manches. Any disc plow without the solid cast frame is old style. Do not be misled into buying one. Made in one, two, three and four gang patterns. The most successful disc plow in the ma ricket. Draft reduced 50 per cent. Send for circulars. We have a liberal proposition to offer any rancher who wishes to investigate the merits of this plow. Write for it. ARNOTT & COMPANY Wagons, Carriages and Farm Machinery. 120, 122, 124 Los Angeles Street THE GAZETTE JOB - OFFICE THE GAZETTE JOB - OFFICE Is fitted to do all kinds of Commercial Printing From a Card to a Book or a Transcript, Etc., Etc. Call and see us and get prices. All work done in the highest state of the art. Subscribe for the Gazette