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THE VISITOR. TOCK, LUBIN & CO. SACRAMENTO, CAL. NOVEMBER, 1892. f fo% riih to receive Thk Visitor feriy. rrmit 'd the rate of two cents per is- tm. if you v'vth tin next six issues, send ge is not intended as a ■ rely to cover cost of S- JITOR.] \ MAKKTH NOT A QUAKER." AIDUrH ot novelty in search, If in a (Quaker church; ■ e, gray-gowned dames, ped math bonnet frames. ^Mf maul, with kerchief neat. I. tlun shared my seat; though not ill-graced ^Kridly rosebuds at her waist. I>ut gold curls strayed, hite m ck deftly played; bad caueht her kerchief low, ; thr >.it full fair did show ? iltduitnl disturbed her prayer; wth her bonnet's flare; limpid eyts met mine, i as decade wine. lance. I longed to fly; . dared not pass her by; swift to my Maker, " maketh not a Quaker ! THANKSGIVING DAY. e annual message of the ites of our country nnd cived, calling on us to st. in reviewing the moi- the past year, and in d<- : ' the outpouring of our s of thankfulness that h a review. • not be coininandi d. for, Iml our wealth, our time, re cannot command our ule, thanksgiving, love, ll of similar sentiments are the hagnage of the heart. They are Dot subject to control. ■ ■•■ of a high quality of M tli iiikfnl shows 11 moral eleva- ititude is observed, you f finding nobility of charac- \1 istrates are wise, there such a day. mat can tend 11 a humane sentiment .oi^'ii our patriotism, and !e of personal responsi- :< How-men. Is that we all have much 1 thankful for. The very blessiug of ^Kftatic joy of existence, is enough k« * daily hymn of thanksgiving to iful L'ower, that for want of a ic we call God—the Good. The it we live is sufficient to bow romhip and move the heart to Hh ::try, liowever, other reasons h a day are abundant. s of a land where the 11 that can be enjoyed by a peo- -; wher^e science, in her linking man happier ; where i noil nngrudging system of > enlightenment to all; generously permitted to ther, after the dictates where tolerance abounds I pre lominates —that we inherit mid privileges is a fruitful cause giving. When, too, we re- 1 the industries of Americaand nre being benefited by Ameri- oountry stands first in s. that law and order prevail, re are sovereigns, that nli is being more fully recog- ing of gratitude and rev- .. joyously repeat those iik (iod, I, too, am an fd be thankful to the Father of all e, plagueand famine have been < d; that sickness has not led to death; r ti: that where the dire angel has been, the survivors have not become indifferent to the duties of life. The greatest of blessings— peace—has been ours, and so the whole land sends up, freely and willingly, its hymn of praise and thanksgiving. The pathless prairie and the unbroken woodland chant a hymn that hills and valleys re-echo. From the ice bound Hudson to the sunny banks of the Cairibean Sea, from the mighty Atlantic to the broad Pacific there arises a thousand hallelujahs from the orchestra of every human heart, that "there has been peace within our land, and prosperity within its borders." The Visitor naturally joins in this sentiment that must flow from the hearts of its readers. Thanksgiving to God, however, must not begin and end with the word of prayer and praise. It has its practical side, Written for The Visitor.] MISS SYBIL SANDERSON. THE history of Miss Sanderson reads almost like a romance. As the daughter of the late Judge Sanderson, she was reared in a cultured home, surrounded by all the luxuries of wealth. Discovering forae years ago that her voice was of unusual compass and sweetness, she gave up home ties and social pleasures and resolutely sailed for Europe, to enter upon a long course of musical and dramatic study. Miss Sanderson began her studies under the celebrated Madame Marchesi of Paris, and afterwards uuder Massenet, who is recognized as the greatest living composer. Massenet wrote for her " Esclarmonde," a grand opera, which will be a permanent addition to the music of all time. The spe- FAMOUS CALIFORNIANS MISS SYBIL SANDERSON. [Illustrated for The Visitor.] too. Our prosperity from the material standpoint, points to the need that we be spiritually prosperous also. A nation's, as an individual's, greatness is measured, not by material power, but the power put forth for right. The measure of a country's true growth is righteousness, not commercial greatness, nor naval su] remacy, nor large deposits in its treasury, nor vast possessions. For righteousness is purity of life. It is patriotism. It is honesty in trade. It is sanctity of the marriage law. It is the law written by the finger of God. And if a nation and its people be not uplifters of righteousness, it is doomed, finally, to be destroyed. Our thanksgiving then will only be complete if with our prayer and praise there is interwoven a determination to think aright, to live aright, to do aright. If such be the spirit evoked by Thanksgiving Day, The Visitor feels that the best purpose of the day will be realized, and a happier, a better, a nobler manhood and womanhood will eventually be developed through its influence. cial feature of the score in this opera is, that it allows scope for the phenomenal voice of Miss Sanderson. She takes clearly and without difficulty "high G." It is said that the only other person who has ever really sung this high note, was Madame La Bastadella, a songstress in Mozart's lime. The fair songstress sang with unprecedented success in Belgium last year, and during the winter in St. Petersburg, where she was decorated personally by the Czar. In addition to "Esclarmonde" and Massenet's " Manon Lescant," she has sung Gounod's "Borneo and Juliet," iu which her rare personal charms, as well as wonderful voice, contribute to success. Miss Sanderson is about twenty-seven years old, and has never been back to this country since she first left it( Her musical contracts will keep her in Europe for several years yet, after which she will return to America as one of the greatest, if not the greatest, prima donna in the world. So much for the talents and pluck of a California girl. Written for The Visitor.] THE HEROINE OF CAMP CHU- ACA. BY SHARLOT M. HALL. FIRST met her at a small frontier post in Wyoming. She was a guest in the family of Captain Brown, my school chum and life-long friend. I remember thinking it odd when my friend's beautiful and accomplished wife introduced Miss Marre as her dearest friend. She was so very plain, I thought, and then did not think of her at all for days. I have always had a habit of studying carefully the people I chance to meet, and alter I had made'the round of the more attractive new arrivals, I came back to a study of Miss Marre. I noticed then that she was a plump little woman, with a pleasant round face aud features rather strongly marked and expressive of much strength, intelligence and kindliness. The eyes were the only noticeable feature. They were, at first glance, very ordinary eyes, pale grey and rather small. But on looking closer, they seimul full of a dim, misty light, that would flash and darken in a rmsterious way. They reminded me of nothing so much as fine fire opals. They seemed to hold, too, the shadow of an ever-present sorrow, and the lines about the firm, kindly mouth fell into sad curves the moment she was in repose. I found that it was she, of all our ladies, who found time to play with the children and speak a cheering word to all who were in trouble. She seemed to shun the many attentions which our gallaut officers were so ready to pay to all womankind, and made as few acquaintances as possible. Having analyzed and mentally labeled her as a plain, common-place woman, I never gave her another thought until we met again five ytars later, in a way I shall never forget. I had been shifted about from post to post, and finally sent to Fort Whipple, Arizona, to await further orders. I was smoking in my room one evening, when the post surgeon came in aud said : " Roberts, pack your traps at once. There's the devil to pay! Yellow fever has broken out at Camp Chuaca. The doctor is dead, and the colonel says you are the ouly one that can be spared to go." I shivered—for the prospect was not pleasant. Camp Chuaca was a small in fantry post nearly two hundred miles from Whipple. It was one of the most isolated, and had the name of being the most unhealthy, of the posts in the department. The trip meant at least five days of travel over wild, rough mountain trails, through a country peopled only by Indians and Mexicans. However, I had no choice but to obey orders, and five days of steady travel brought me in sight of the post. A more desolate sight I have never seen. The sand hills, through which I had traveled all day, now opened out into a low sandy plain, white with alkali, and dotted with a few straggling clumps of grease- wood. The post itself was a group of a scant dozen ragged adobe huts, such as any Greaser would have scorned. Not a man was to be s>.en walking about, but as I rode up to the largest building, I saw that the veranda was lined with cots, each cot holding a suffering man. Then a door opened, and I heard a familiar voice saying: "Oh, Dr. Roberts, I am so glad to see you! Ride over to the captain's quarters, second house to the left. I will get you coffee and supper as soon as I can leave here." A few minutes later I was shaking hands with Miss Marre, and listening to her account of the epidemic. The captain was out of danger, she thought, three-fourths of the living men were in the hospital, and nearly one-half of the original garrison were dead. There was as yet little improvement in the condition of the sick, and little
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Text | THE VISITOR. TOCK, LUBIN & CO. SACRAMENTO, CAL. NOVEMBER, 1892. f fo% riih to receive Thk Visitor feriy. rrmit 'd the rate of two cents per is- tm. if you v'vth tin next six issues, send ge is not intended as a ■ rely to cover cost of S- JITOR.] \ MAKKTH NOT A QUAKER." AIDUrH ot novelty in search, If in a (Quaker church; ■ e, gray-gowned dames, ped math bonnet frames. ^Mf maul, with kerchief neat. I. tlun shared my seat; though not ill-graced ^Kridly rosebuds at her waist. I>ut gold curls strayed, hite m ck deftly played; bad caueht her kerchief low, ; thr >.it full fair did show ? iltduitnl disturbed her prayer; wth her bonnet's flare; limpid eyts met mine, i as decade wine. lance. I longed to fly; . dared not pass her by; swift to my Maker, " maketh not a Quaker ! THANKSGIVING DAY. e annual message of the ites of our country nnd cived, calling on us to st. in reviewing the moi- the past year, and in d<- : ' the outpouring of our s of thankfulness that h a review. • not be coininandi d. for, Iml our wealth, our time, re cannot command our ule, thanksgiving, love, ll of similar sentiments are the hagnage of the heart. They are Dot subject to control. ■ ■•■ of a high quality of M tli iiikfnl shows 11 moral eleva- ititude is observed, you f finding nobility of charac- \1 istrates are wise, there such a day. mat can tend 11 a humane sentiment .oi^'ii our patriotism, and !e of personal responsi- :< How-men. Is that we all have much 1 thankful for. The very blessiug of ^Kftatic joy of existence, is enough k« * daily hymn of thanksgiving to iful L'ower, that for want of a ic we call God—the Good. The it we live is sufficient to bow romhip and move the heart to Hh ::try, liowever, other reasons h a day are abundant. s of a land where the 11 that can be enjoyed by a peo- -; wher^e science, in her linking man happier ; where i noil nngrudging system of > enlightenment to all; generously permitted to ther, after the dictates where tolerance abounds I pre lominates —that we inherit mid privileges is a fruitful cause giving. When, too, we re- 1 the industries of Americaand nre being benefited by Ameri- oountry stands first in s. that law and order prevail, re are sovereigns, that nli is being more fully recog- ing of gratitude and rev- .. joyously repeat those iik (iod, I, too, am an fd be thankful to the Father of all e, plagueand famine have been < d; that sickness has not led to death; r ti: that where the dire angel has been, the survivors have not become indifferent to the duties of life. The greatest of blessings— peace—has been ours, and so the whole land sends up, freely and willingly, its hymn of praise and thanksgiving. The pathless prairie and the unbroken woodland chant a hymn that hills and valleys re-echo. From the ice bound Hudson to the sunny banks of the Cairibean Sea, from the mighty Atlantic to the broad Pacific there arises a thousand hallelujahs from the orchestra of every human heart, that "there has been peace within our land, and prosperity within its borders." The Visitor naturally joins in this sentiment that must flow from the hearts of its readers. Thanksgiving to God, however, must not begin and end with the word of prayer and praise. It has its practical side, Written for The Visitor.] MISS SYBIL SANDERSON. THE history of Miss Sanderson reads almost like a romance. As the daughter of the late Judge Sanderson, she was reared in a cultured home, surrounded by all the luxuries of wealth. Discovering forae years ago that her voice was of unusual compass and sweetness, she gave up home ties and social pleasures and resolutely sailed for Europe, to enter upon a long course of musical and dramatic study. Miss Sanderson began her studies under the celebrated Madame Marchesi of Paris, and afterwards uuder Massenet, who is recognized as the greatest living composer. Massenet wrote for her " Esclarmonde," a grand opera, which will be a permanent addition to the music of all time. The spe- FAMOUS CALIFORNIANS MISS SYBIL SANDERSON. [Illustrated for The Visitor.] too. Our prosperity from the material standpoint, points to the need that we be spiritually prosperous also. A nation's, as an individual's, greatness is measured, not by material power, but the power put forth for right. The measure of a country's true growth is righteousness, not commercial greatness, nor naval su] remacy, nor large deposits in its treasury, nor vast possessions. For righteousness is purity of life. It is patriotism. It is honesty in trade. It is sanctity of the marriage law. It is the law written by the finger of God. And if a nation and its people be not uplifters of righteousness, it is doomed, finally, to be destroyed. Our thanksgiving then will only be complete if with our prayer and praise there is interwoven a determination to think aright, to live aright, to do aright. If such be the spirit evoked by Thanksgiving Day, The Visitor feels that the best purpose of the day will be realized, and a happier, a better, a nobler manhood and womanhood will eventually be developed through its influence. cial feature of the score in this opera is, that it allows scope for the phenomenal voice of Miss Sanderson. She takes clearly and without difficulty "high G." It is said that the only other person who has ever really sung this high note, was Madame La Bastadella, a songstress in Mozart's lime. The fair songstress sang with unprecedented success in Belgium last year, and during the winter in St. Petersburg, where she was decorated personally by the Czar. In addition to "Esclarmonde" and Massenet's " Manon Lescant," she has sung Gounod's "Borneo and Juliet," iu which her rare personal charms, as well as wonderful voice, contribute to success. Miss Sanderson is about twenty-seven years old, and has never been back to this country since she first left it( Her musical contracts will keep her in Europe for several years yet, after which she will return to America as one of the greatest, if not the greatest, prima donna in the world. So much for the talents and pluck of a California girl. Written for The Visitor.] THE HEROINE OF CAMP CHU- ACA. BY SHARLOT M. HALL. FIRST met her at a small frontier post in Wyoming. She was a guest in the family of Captain Brown, my school chum and life-long friend. I remember thinking it odd when my friend's beautiful and accomplished wife introduced Miss Marre as her dearest friend. She was so very plain, I thought, and then did not think of her at all for days. I have always had a habit of studying carefully the people I chance to meet, and alter I had made'the round of the more attractive new arrivals, I came back to a study of Miss Marre. I noticed then that she was a plump little woman, with a pleasant round face aud features rather strongly marked and expressive of much strength, intelligence and kindliness. The eyes were the only noticeable feature. They were, at first glance, very ordinary eyes, pale grey and rather small. But on looking closer, they seimul full of a dim, misty light, that would flash and darken in a rmsterious way. They reminded me of nothing so much as fine fire opals. They seemed to hold, too, the shadow of an ever-present sorrow, and the lines about the firm, kindly mouth fell into sad curves the moment she was in repose. I found that it was she, of all our ladies, who found time to play with the children and speak a cheering word to all who were in trouble. She seemed to shun the many attentions which our gallaut officers were so ready to pay to all womankind, and made as few acquaintances as possible. Having analyzed and mentally labeled her as a plain, common-place woman, I never gave her another thought until we met again five ytars later, in a way I shall never forget. I had been shifted about from post to post, and finally sent to Fort Whipple, Arizona, to await further orders. I was smoking in my room one evening, when the post surgeon came in aud said : " Roberts, pack your traps at once. There's the devil to pay! Yellow fever has broken out at Camp Chuaca. The doctor is dead, and the colonel says you are the ouly one that can be spared to go." I shivered—for the prospect was not pleasant. Camp Chuaca was a small in fantry post nearly two hundred miles from Whipple. It was one of the most isolated, and had the name of being the most unhealthy, of the posts in the department. The trip meant at least five days of travel over wild, rough mountain trails, through a country peopled only by Indians and Mexicans. However, I had no choice but to obey orders, and five days of steady travel brought me in sight of the post. A more desolate sight I have never seen. The sand hills, through which I had traveled all day, now opened out into a low sandy plain, white with alkali, and dotted with a few straggling clumps of grease- wood. The post itself was a group of a scant dozen ragged adobe huts, such as any Greaser would have scorned. Not a man was to be s>.en walking about, but as I rode up to the largest building, I saw that the veranda was lined with cots, each cot holding a suffering man. Then a door opened, and I heard a familiar voice saying: "Oh, Dr. Roberts, I am so glad to see you! Ride over to the captain's quarters, second house to the left. I will get you coffee and supper as soon as I can leave here." A few minutes later I was shaking hands with Miss Marre, and listening to her account of the epidemic. The captain was out of danger, she thought, three-fourths of the living men were in the hospital, and nearly one-half of the original garrison were dead. There was as yet little improvement in the condition of the sick, and little |