Full text of "The Californian and overland monthly"

CLASS

FREE

PUBLIC LIBRARY
DECATUR

ILLINOIS

51045

ACCESSION_

From the collection of the

Prelinger

v Jjibrary
P

San Francisco, California
2006

Notice to Reader When X^\ X^V

you finish reading this issue, (mb) S^rs v-"

place a one-cent stamp on \^T^- "^^X f

>-^. thic iv*4+i/*o H^nrf o^a rvm -fr* ariv/ ^^^^^^l^^^x 1 ^ r

Notice to Reader When
you finish reading this issue,
place a one-cent stamp on
this notice, hand same to any
postal employee, and 't will
be placed in the hands of our
soldiers or sailors at the
front. No wrapping; no ad-
dress. A. S. Burleson, Post-
master-General, U. S. A.

1918

Price 10 Cen

AMONG THE SOUTH SEA ISLANDERS By Richard E. Delaney,M.D.

THE SPY - By Charles A. Cogswell IN THE MIST By Boyd Cable

EARLY TRAILS QF BRITISH COLUMBIA By Fred \wV^

KRUPPS AND KRUPPISM YSABELLA By Clarice Garland

, FIVE YEARS < ) \ \ 1 1 < ) \\ I .STEAD - Bj Mrs. J. C. Osborn

" FICTION H I ] AUT1FUL ILLUSTRATIONS VERSE'

SAN FRANCISCO

LETTER

PRESS : I fe

Commercial
Pamphlet

Catalog
Publication

ESTIMATES GIVEN

259 Minna Street

TEL. KEARY 3594 NEAR FOURTH SAN FRANCISCO

PUBLIC LIBRARY

1 UK., JLJLJLji

The Overland Monthly

Vol. LXXII Second Series

July-December 1918

OVERLAND MONTHLY CO., Publishers

259 MINNA STREET SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.

STATEMENT OF THE OWNERSHIP, MAN-
AGEMENT, CIRCULATION, ETC., RE-
QUIRED BY THE ACT OF CONGRESS OF
AUGUST 24, 1912, of OVERLAND MONTH-
LY, published monthly at San Francisco, Cal.,
for October 1, 1918.

State of California, County of San Francisco, ss.

Before me, a Notary Public in and for the
State and county aforesaid, personally appeared
F. Marriott, who, having been duly sworn ac-
cording to law, deposes and says that he is the
Publisher of the OVERLAND MONTHLY, and
that the following is, to the best of his knowl-
edge and belief, a true statement of the owner-
ship, management, etc., of the aforesaid publi-
cation for the date shown in the above caption,
required by the Act of August 24, 1912, embodied
in section 443, Postal Laws and Regulations,
printed on the reverse of this form, to-wit:

1. That the names and addresses of the pub-

lisher, editor, managing editor, and business
managers are: Publisher, F. Marriott, 259 Minna
St., San Francisco. Editor, B. Davidson, 259
Minna St., San Francisco. Managing Editor, B.
Davidson, 259 Minna St., San Francisco. Busi-
ness Manager, F. Marriott, 259 Minna St., San
Francisco.

2. That the owner is F. Marriott.

3. That the known bondholders, mortgagees
and other security holders owning or holding 1
per cent or more of total amount of bonds, mort-
gages or other securities are: None.

F. MARRIOTT,

Owner.

Sworn to and subscribed before me this 30th
day of September, 1918.
(Seal) MARTIN ARONSOHN,

Notary Public in and for the City and County
of San Francisco, State of California.

(My commission expires September 20, 1919.)

INDEX

A BORDER WIZARD. Story ....

Illustrated from photographs.
A CROWDED-OUT COUSIN. Story.
A GIRL'S RECOLLECTIONS OF BROOK

FARM SCHOOL

A JOKER IN CALIFORNIA CASTOR BEANS . .

Illustrated from photographs
ALONG SAN FRANCISCO'S FRONT

AMERICA'S BOYS. Verse

A MINER AND HIS WILD PETS. Story
AMONG THE SOUTH SEA ISLANDERS

Illustrated from photographs.
AN EPISODE IN THE PIONEER LIFE OF SAN

FRANCISCO ...

A NEW BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC.

Verse

ART AND THE SCIENTISTS

A SUMMER FANCY. Verse

A STUDY OF WILD NORTHERN DUCKS
A THRUSH BEFORE DAWN. Verse

AT EVENTIDE. Verse.

AT HER DOOR. Story

HOWARD A. STURTZEL

JAMBS E. PORTER

165

J27

THE LAST REMAINING BROOK

FARMER. (But One.) 233

VERNE DYSON 300

E. M. NORTH WHITCOMB 31

Rebecca J. Gradwohl 414

J. B. REINHART 135

RICHARD E. DELANEY, M. D. 11

BALLADE OF SAMUEL, Verse.
BALLADE OF THE MISSION BELLS. Verse.
BLACK-BIRDS IN AUTUMN. Verse
BRET HARTE, FOUNDER OF THE OVER-
LAND MONTHLY

Illustrated from a photograph.

CANOEING DOWN THE QUINAULT.

Illustrated from photographs.
COMMUNITY LIFE FOR OUR SOLDIERS
AND SAILORS

Illustrated from a photograph
CONSERVATION OF FOOD AMONG THE

INDIANS

CULT WORSHIP; THE LAST VANITY.

GEORGE VAIL WILLIAMS.
F. H. STEARNS, Ph. D.
MARY D. BARBER
F. H. SIDNEY
ALICE MEYNELL

BURTON JACKSON WYMAN

Bell Willey Gue

EDITH WADE HART
, Ernest McGaffey
VERNE BRIGHT

A. M. WALKER
ARTHUR L. DAHL

Agnes Shea
ELLIOTT J. CLAWSON

246
340
224
121
30
585
445

327
403
134

573

207
305

441
632

DEAR FIELDS. Verse

DICKENS IN CAMP. Verse. .

DIVINE DESIRE. Verse.

DON RAMON'S REVENGE. Story.

EARLY TRAILS OF BRITISH COLUMBIA

Illustrated from photographs.
EVENING AT THE LAKESIDE. Verse.

EXILES. Verse.

EXIT. Story ....

NINA A. WALKER 621

BRET HARTE 588

ROSE DE VAUX-ROYER 253

MRS. W. DAVENPORT HUDNALL 634

FIVE YEARS ON A HOMESTEAD. Serial
FIVE YEARS ON A HOMESTEAD. Serial .

FIVE YEARS ON A HOMESTEAD. Concluded.

FORMS OF GOVERNMENT

FORT GUNNYBAGS

Illustrated from photographs.
FRONTISPIECES:

Bits of California Scenery .

Samoan belles

FRED LOCKLEY

JOHN RAVENOR BULLEN
JESSICA NELSON NORTH
GUY FLEMING

MRS. J. C. OSBORN
MRS. J. C. OSBORN

MRS. J. C. OSBORN
Thos. O'Shaughnessy

594
587
146

36
172

247
449
574

1-9
10

FRONTISPIECES:

MEXICO AND ITS PICTURESQUE PEOPLE AND SCENERY

The Hidden Canyon in El Morro.

FRONTISPIECES: Twelve Views of California Scenery.
FRONTISPIECES:

Three Views of California Scenery

Illustrations to accompany "With the Zunis In New Mexico

FRONTISPIECES: Six Scenes in China

FRONTISPIECES: Early Views of San Francisco .

GIFTS OF THE DEAD. Verse

GOLD STRIPES. Verse ....

HENRIETTA'S DOWRY. Story.

HER TEARS. Verse

HOW BIG IS THE WORLD? Story. .

I DREAMED MY HAPPY DREAM AWAY.
INDIAN LIFE IN SIERRA FORESTS. .

Illustrated from photographs.
IN THE MIST. Story ....

IN THE REALM OF BOOKLAND
IN THE REALM OF BOOKLAND .

Verse

HABERTON LULHAM
FLORENCE A. VICARS

Florence Isaacson
BELLE WILLEY GUE
William Joseph Lancaster

GENERAL E. L. HUGGINS
Charles Howard Shinn

BOYD CABLE

JUST A DROP OF INK. Story.
KRUPPS AND KRUPPISM

ARTHUR R. ANDRE
HENRY C. STRUBE

104

187-198

281-283
284

375-380
561-572

136
124

436
339

425

214
387

42
180

360

589
75

LARKSPUR RANCH

Illustrated from a photograph.
LAVENDER. Verse ......

LEGEND OF SAN JUAN DE LOS LAGOS. Story.
"LIBERTY AND FREEDOM."
LOVE'S PENALTY. Verse

MADAME CURIE AND RADIUM
MAN FROM UP NORTH. Story.
MY CALIFORNIA HILLS. Verse.

NOVEMBER IN CALIFORNIA. Verse. .
ORANGE BLOSSOMS. Verse. .
PAINLESS CHILDBIRTH

PALM DRIVE IN LOS ANGELES. Verse. .
PETRIFIED FORESTS OF ARIZONA

Illustrated from photographs.

REINDEER MEAT AS BEEF SUPPLY .

Illustrated from photographs.
REMINISCENCES OF EMPEROR NORTON.

Illustrated from a photograph.
RIGHT FROM THE SHOULDER. Story.
ROMANCE. A Prose Poem

SILVER FOX. Story

SOLDIER DOGS AT CAMP KEARNY .
SNOW-SHOEING IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
SUMMER SONG. Verse

THE APRICOT RANCH. Story.

THE BONNIE DOON RANCH ....

Illustrated from a photograph.

THE CALL TO ARMS. Verse

THE CAVE WOMAN. Story ....

THE COBWEB PALACE, SAN FRANCISCO.
THE ANTI-LOVE POTION. ....

Illustrated from photographs.

LOUISE M. PALMER 614

THOMAS O'SHAUGHNESSY 269

W. W. LAIDLEY 48

R. J. STRUTT 51

Penelope Van 345

. HENRY F. RUTHRAUFF 603

. Victor M. Kinnaman 396

Anna M. Baker 410

W. FRANCIS B. WAKEFIELD, 83

M. B., M. D., C. M., F. A. C. S.

KATHLEEN GRAY NELSON 308

EVERETT EDGAR KING 113

DAVID GOVE 199

. DOROTHY MILLER 586

JOSEPH T. KERCEL 328

. E. Clement d'Art 443

ALICE PHILLIPS 120

. Sophie Garwood Williams 440

GEORGE LAW 635

E. NESBIT 127

Donna Reith Scott 397

MRS. R. A. ELLIS 67

' Arthur Powell 395

LUCY MILLAR 128

. BERT HARRISON 582

. Sue Conly 391

51045

THE DECISIVENESS OF WARS

THE EMBLEM ON MY HAT. Verse. .

THE FIGHTING LINE. Verse.

THE GERMAN OCTOPUS . ...

THE HEART OF THE COW COUNTRY. .

THE "HUMANITY" OF CRUELTY. .

THE IRISH GUARDS. Verse

THE LAPIDARY. Verse

THE LAST CRUSADE. Verse. . . .
THE LAST TIE. Story. ....

Illustrated from a photograph.
THE LITTLE PICTURE BRIDE. Story.
THE LETTER OF THE WALL Story.
THE MAKER OF A PUBLIC MARKET. .
THE MEASURE OF A MAN. Story.
THE MOUNTAIN HEART'S EASE. Verse.
THE MOUNTED RIFLEMEN OF THE

NORTHWEST TERRITORY.
THE MYSTERIOUS MINER. Story.
THE PATH OF SILENCE. Story

THE PENALTY. Story

THE POET OF THE SIERRAS. Verse.

THE PLYMOUTH OF THE PACIFIC COAST.

Illustrated from photographs.

THE RAT. Story

THE REARGUARD. Story,

HIS ROSARY. Story

THE ROOT OF EVIL. Story.

THE SEAGULL. Verse

THE SEA OTTER IN CALIFORNIA
THE SEARCH FOR HEAVEN. Verse
THE SOCIAL PROBLEM OF TODAY. .

THE SPY. STORY

THE VASE OF HERACLI. Story.
THE WISHING STONE. Story.
THROUGH THE OZARKS. Verse.
TWO SYMBOLIC BOOKS ....
TO THOSE AT HOME. Verse

ROY L. STEVENS
Corporal William C. Wilson
. Ellis Meredith

W. MORRIS COLLES

A SAILOR, U. S. N..

HORACE HUTCHINSON

RUDYARD KIPLING

MARY BYERLEY
WILLIAM HENDERSON RENNY
DR. J. D. B. STILLMAN

MABEL STJNTER

. H. A. NOUREDDIN ADDIS

Agnes Lockhart Hughes.

Eleanor Frothingham Haworth

BRET HARTE

. Fred Lockley.
. Clyde B. Hough

F. M. PETTEE

ROBERT PAGE LINCOLN

TEASDALE RANDOLPH

Lena Hunzicker

JOHN BIGGS, JR.

BOYD CABLE

Henry Ridgaway Zelley
. H. A. Noureddin Addis
. John Ravenor Bullen
C. L. ANDREWS

ROSE DE VAUX-ROYER
THOS. O'SHAUGHNESSY

CHARLES A. COGSWELL
H. A. NOUREDDIN ADDIS

GEORGE WILDE

Jessica Nelson North

VIEWPOINTS. Story.

ELLA FLAT KELLER
Maud B. Rodgers

WALTER GREENWAY, SPY. Story. .

WE TWO. Verse

WHAT YOU CALL FREEDOM MEN CALL

PIRACY Verse

WHEN REA PLAYED CUPID. Story
WHITE MAGIC, Verse ....

WHEN MINER MEETS COW-MAN. Story
WITH THE ZUNIS IN NEW MEXICO

Illustrated from photographs.
WITH THE ZUNIS IN NEW MEXICO.

Illustrated from photographs.
WITH THE ZUNIS IN NEW MEXICO

Illustrated from photographs
WM. P. HENDERSON'S PAINTINGS OF

AMERICAN INDIAN DANCES .

Illustrated from photographs.

YSABELLA. Serial

YSABELLA (Serial)

YSABELLA. Serial. ....

YSABELLA. Concluded.

ROBERT HOLMES
ANNA M. BAKER

HENRY VAN DYKE

LUCY MILLER

R. F.

LUCY MILLAR

GEORGE WHARTON JAMES

GEORGE WHARTON JAMES
GEORGE WHARTON JAMES

J. NILSEN LAURVIK

CLARICE GARLAND
CLARICE GARLAND
CLARICE GARLAND
CLARICE GARLAND

148
390
406
137
225
242
25
244
344
595

334
605

407
411
604

409
433
125
622
630
381

116

215

429

415

428

131

153

348

309

220

386

404

320
333

206

241

105

254

285

211

54
154
261
350

Please Mention Overland Monthly When Writing Advertisers.

A%%\muwsMATOmuws^

With the hot sun beating down on their frail underfed bodies
with.no hope of relief in sight the little children and tired mothers
of the slums are facing another grim summer in their empty lives.

Help Us Give These Unfortunates
A Chance for Health

Sea Breeze the Association's fresh
air home gives the one chance for

rest, nourishment and care for many of
these families each year but help is
needed at once if we are to provide
for the long waiting list.

Please/**

George
Blagden,
Treasurer
A. I. C. P.
105 East 22d Street
New York

Will you give just a little ? Allow 60 cents
a day, or $4.00 a week for each one whom you
will send as your guest.

The New York Association for Improving
the Condition of the Poor

Room 250 105 East 22nd St. , New York

Enclosed is $

with which you are to give fresh
air relief to the most needy cases
your list.

Name.

Addrcco.

tasxnxusximmrj*^^

Vol. LXXII

No. 1

itnntljlg

AN ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE OF THE WEST

CONTENTS FOR JULY, 1918

FRONTISPIECES:

Bits of California Scenery ....

Samoan belles ......

AMONG THE SOUTH SEA ISLANDERS

Illustrated from photographs.
THE IRISH GUARDS. Verse ....

THE SPY. STORY

A THRUSH BEFORE DAWN. Verse
ALONG SAN FRANCISCO'S FRONT

LAVENDER. Verse

FIVE YEARS ON A HOMESTEAD. Serial

IN THE MIST. Story

LOVE'S PENALTY. Verse

WHEN REA PLAYED CUPID. Story

MADAME CURIE AND RADIUM

TO THOSE AT HOME. Verse ....

YSABELLA. Serial

AN EPISODE IN THE PIONEER LIFE OF SAN

FRANCISCO
THE BONNIE DOON RANCH ....

Illustrated from a photograph.
LARKSPUR RANCH

Illustrated from a photograph.

WHITE MAGIC, Verse

EARLY TRAILS OF BRITISH COLUMBIA

Illustrated from photographs.
KRUPPS AND KRUPPISM ....

TWO SYMBOLIC BOOKS

PAINLESS CHILDBIRTH

RICHARD E. DELANEY, M. D.

RUDYARD KIPLING
CHARLES A. COGSWELL
ALICE MEYNELL
E. M. NORTH WHITCOMB

MRS. J. C. OSBORN

BOYD CABLE

W. W. LAIDLEY

LUCY MILLER

R. J. STRUTT

ELLA FLAT KELLER

CLARICE GARLAND

MRS. R. A. ELLIS

R. F.

FRED LOCKLEY

HENRY C. STRUBE

W. FRANCIS B. WAKEFIELD,
M. B., M. D., C. M., F. A. C. S.

1-9
10
11

27
30
31
35
36
42
48
49
51
53
54

63
67

70
71

75
79

NOTICE Contributions to the Overland Monthly should be typewritten, accompanied by full
return postage, and with the author's name and address plain written in upper corner of first
page. Manuscripts should never be rolled.

The publisher of the Overland Monthly will not be responsible for the preservation or mail
miscarriage of unsolicited contributions and photographs.

Issued Monthly. $1.20 per year in advance. Ten cents per copy. Back numbers not over three
months old, 25 cents per copy. Over three months old, 50 cts. each. Postage: To Canada, 2 cts.;
Foreign, 4 cts.

Copyrighted, 1918, by the Overland Monthly Company.

Entered at the San Francisco, Cal., Postoffice as second-class matter.
Published by the OVERLAND MONTHLY COMPANY, San Francisco, California.

259 MINNA STREET

Please Mention Overland Monthly When Writing Advertisers.

iii

A Book You Can't Afford To
Be Without

The Real Estate Educator

By F. M. PAYNE-Ncw Edition

A book for hustling Real
Estate boosters, promoters,
town builders and every man
who owns, sells, rents or
leases real estate of any
kind. "Don'ts" in Real Es-
tate "Pointers," Specific Le-
gal Forms, ets, etc.

The New 1916 Edition con-
tains The Torren's System
of Registration, Available U.
S. Lands for Homesteads.
The A. B. C.'s of Realty.

Workmen's Compensation
Act, Income Tax Law, Em-
ployer's Liability Act, Stat-
ute of Frauds, How to Sell
Real Estate, How to Become
a Notary Public or Comm.
of Deeds, and other Useful
Information.

This book is an inspiration
to the indifferent and a stimulus to the am-
bitious. Apart from the agent, operator, or
contractor, there is much to be found in its
contents that will prove of great value to all
who wish to be posted on Valuation, Con-
tracts, Mortgages, Leases, Evictions, etc. The
cost might be saved many times over in one
transaction.

Cloth, 246 Pages. Price $1.00 Postpaid.

OVERLAND MONTHLY

SAN FRANCISCO. CAL.

The True Pianist Knows

there is no piano comparable to this beautiful Vose
Grand at $625 f . o. b. bo-iton. Three generations of
the Vose family with sixty-eight years of highest
ideals in piano construction have given the Vose its
en viable reputation. We challenge comparisons.

Write for our beautifully illustrated
catalogue and easy payment plan.

Vose & Sons Piano Company

189 Boylston Street. Boston, Mass.

A Rare Opportunity $500 Per Acre

A Walnut Grove For Sale

1 ,000 Franquette and May-
ette Walnut trees, five years old,
planted on 26 acres.

One mile from Almaden
Road, six miles from San
Jose.

Perfect climate, lovely situa-
tion and good roads.

When in full bearing Wal-
nuts are the most profitable of
all crops.

Six acres are planted in
grapes. This crop pays for
cultivating the 26 acres.

The price $500 per acre is
a great bargain.

Address OWNER, 259 Minna St., San Francisco, Cal.

iv Please Mention Overland Monthly When Writing Advertisers.

Subscribe for the LIVING AGE

IF YOU WANT every aspect of the great European War pre-
sented every week, in articles by the ablest English writers.
IF YOU WANT the leading English reviews, magazines and
journals sifted for you and their most important articles repro-
duced in convenient form without abridgment.
IF YOU WANT the Best Fiction, the Best Essays and the
Best Poetry to be found in contemporary periodical literature.
IF YOU WANT more than three thousand pages of fresh and
illuminating material during the year, reaching you in weekly
instalments, at the cost of a single subscription.
IF YOU WANT to find out for yourself the secret of the hold
which THE LIVING AGE has kept upon a highly intelligent
constituency for more than seventy years.

Subscription $6 a Year. Specimen Copies Free

The Living Age Co.

6 BEACON STREET, BOSTON

Scientific Dry Farming

Are you a dry farmer? Are you interested in the develop-
ment of a dry farm? Are you thinking of securing a home-
stead or of buying land in the semi-arid West? In any case you
should look before you leap. You should learn the principles
that are necessary to success in the new agriculture of the west.
You should

Learn the Campbell System

Learn the Campbell System of Soil Culture and you will not
fail. Subscribe for Campbell's Scientific Farmer, the only au-
thority published on the subject of scientific soil tillage, then
take a course in the Campbell Correspondence School of Soil
Culture, and you need not worry about crop failure. Send four
cents for a catalog and a sample copy of the Scientific Farmer.

Address,

Scientific Soil Culture Co.

BILLINGS, MONTANA

PUBLIC LIBRARY
JUL1 1918 '

Bits of California Scenery

In Muir Park, Marin County, within twenty miles of San Francisco.

Mt. Shasta and Stewart's Lake

V > . . . :.,.

On the banks of Lake Merritt, Oakland, California.

Along the higher crest of the Sierras

A mine plant in the foothills of the Sierras

Samoan belles.

OVERLAND

Founded 1868

MONTHLY

BRET HARTE

VOL LXXII

San Francisco, July, 1918

No. 1

Among the South Sea Islanders

By Richard E. Delaney, A\. D.

THERE are few parts of the
world where life is so interest-
ing as in beautiful and quaint
Samoa. That was the trip of
my life.

The readers of this magazine are no
doubt familiar with the name Samoa
because of the literature of Robert
Louis Stevenson, and because also it
is where he spent the last days of his
life. His remains lie buried there on
the top of Mount Vaea, overlooking
the town of Apia.

How well it has been said that Sa-
moa is where life is different. Even
when one begins to lose sight of Cali-
fornia at sea for this strange land,
a feeling of intense curiosity, mingled
with loneliness of home, comes over
him, as he wonders at the sights and
customs that are ahead of him.

For the first few days at sea the
places at the table in the saloons were
not always filled at meal time. As
each passenger began to get over sea-
sickness, the decks were more and
more occupied. Those of the second
and third class, some immigrating to
Australia, made a cosmopolitan gather-
ing, about a dozen nationalities being
represented. Most of the first class
passengers were tourists on a vacation
to Honolulu and the Hawaiian Islands.

The steamer chairs were either oc-
cupied or various games taken up to

pass away the time. When the eyes
would be tired gazing at the horizon
and the ocean, one would go to sleep
in the shade of the deck awning, un-
less disturbed by a down-pour of tropi-
cal rain. Over such an immensity of
space in mid-ocean, the sight of a
ship or a sail is most welcomed.

Of course, the news by wireless
would be ready on the tables every
morning. Such a possibility at sea
would have been laughed at only* a
few years ago. And the most inter-
esting news by wireless, even at three
thousand miles distance, was about
Colonel Roosevelt, which means he is
still very much alive, thanks to a kind
Providence.

In the evening at dinner the men of
the first class passengers were in full
dress and the women in handsome
evening gowns, all wearing tissue
paper caps of various colors from their
candy boxes. All this made a beauti-
ful picture of wealth in the main sa-
loon, while the variegated electric
lights overhead and on the small tables
added much effect to this brilliant
scene. This picture became all the
more interesting in contrast with that
of the third class passengers who had
no "bon-bons" on their tables nor de-
collete women to gaze upon while the
ship ploughed the ocean waves.

An ocean voyage of several weeks'
Jy-2

OVERLAND MONTHLY

duration is not without strange sights
of human nature. As in the population
of a city, so it is with that of a ship.
There are human natures far more
amorous than others, and so it was on
this voyage. When the passengers
had all gone below and the lights were
out, a deck chair in particular would
be occupied by a white dressed stew-
ard of splendid physique, and then a
fair "damoselle" in short skirt and
fair form would come along. During
the day on deck she was conspicuous
for her playfulness with ship officers,
as she loved to use their chests for a
punching bag or imitate an expert with
the gloves. How loving this fair co-
quette was in the tender arms of this
ship officer only the few passengers
who had a chance to watch for them-
selves in the dark could fully imag-
ine. When the ecstasy of kissing and
hugging would tire itself she would
jump up, play around him, then try it
all over again. There was a church
minister on board, and perhaps this
was their honeymoon, for like all sen-
sible people they retired after a while
and went below. Some folks don't
think there is a time and place for
everything, but this goes to illustrate
once more that "truth is stranger than
fiction."

The swimming tank in the prow of
the ship on the main deck in front of
the captain's quarters and below the
bridge, came in for a good deal of mer-
riment and water splashing in the af-
ternoon, and not a few of the women
took part in their short bathing suits,
for it is both fashionable and wise to
be seen playing in sea water on a warm
day.

An old sailor passenger, who had
been 55 years at sea, was in that con-
dition of mind between sense and non-
sense when he could show off a great
deal more than he knew. But it was
the sport of the passengers to hear him
lecture in Australian accents on deck
on the science of seamanship, on as-
tronomy, on navigation, philosophy,
Christian Science and explain nautical
terms, especially when the women
were present. He had no end of sea-

faring yarns, and his fertile imagina-
tion would add effect to thrilling dis-
asters.

How difficult it is to escape Ameri-
can graft in United States territory,
and even 4,500 miles from home at
that, I discovered the day after I
landed at Pago Pago, which is an
American possession. The Oceanic
S. S. line, having no shelter on the
government wharf for passengers' bag-
gage except the customs house, a na-
tive policeman, a "half caste," very
politely escorted me to the customs
house, where I was permitted to place
my baggage for safe keeping. When
I came to take my baggage out next
day the clerk of the customs, a half
caste, who had learned the Yankee
trick, wanted one dollar for storage.
But while I had made no contract and
there was no sign anywhere about a
fee for 24 hours storage in United
States property, the clerk was politely
informed of the imposition, and he
quickly relinquished all claims. This
may serve to put other passengers for
Samoa wise. The British authorities
in Apia in that respect were much
more polite. Apia, by the way, is un-
der martial law.

After we had been eight days at sea
without a sight of land, and not even a
ship nor a sail since we had left Hono-
lulu, the most welcome view in the
dawn of a balmy tropical morn was
the green island of Tutuilla. How in-
teresting and different is the intense
verdure of those islands even to the
very mountain tops, compared to the
shores of California or even of Hono-
lulu, only those who see it can fully
appreciate it. Wherever the cocoanut
plantations are in patches of any size
along the shore, the palm thatched
Samoan house can faintly be seen em-
bowered in foliage. And one wonders
how so small a space available for cul-
tivation can provide food for the na-
tives.

To say that everybody found the
weather warm in Pago Pago on that
March day is to put it mildly, but more
anon regarding the depressing climate
of that country.

AMONG THE SOUTH SEA ISLANDERS

Among the sites of the Samoan Is-
lands I would certainly mention the
harbor of Pago Pago. I never saw
anything look more like a pond, being
one and a half miles long by three-
quarters of a mile wide. On ship days
when the Oceanic line calls there, it
means a gathering of a thousand na-
tives at the wharf. They come from
all over the island to trade their tapa
cloths, native curios and fruits with
the passengers.

A pleasant surprise to the passen-
gers is the excellent music which the
Samoan band can produce while the
ship is at the wharf. Most everybody
of the village, including the U. S. ma-
rines and officers and the officers'
wives, all in white, and the Governor,
are there on those occasions.

To see a game of baseball between
the natives in their lava lava and the
U. S. Marine on a beautiful green cam-
pus, is a sight worth while. It is well
they choose the evening hour, for I
don't know what would happen if they
were to do much running during the
heat of the day. The campus, by the
way, is the only bit of level ground in
the village sufficient to play baseball.

The village of Pago Pago follows
the shore of that harbor for a distance
of two miles, forming a circle at the
foot of steep mountains. Almost from
the rear of the Catholic school and
mission a mountain wall reaches a
height of some 3,000 feet, and is so
steep that one could only ascend it by
pulling himself from tree to tree. One
wonders how can people risk their
lives at the foot of such a precipice.
As a matter of fact, a few years ago
the priest of the mission was awak-
ened one night by a tremendous noise,
and when he got up a landslide carry-
ing several thousand tons of earth,
rocks and tree in its wake had stopped
within a few feet of the mission resi-
dence. The path is now grown green
with grass and vegetation and is vis-
ible for miles. These picturesque steep
mountains with such a rich, tropical
verdure, are a constant curiosity to
visitors. Here and there at the base
and side of these mountains one will

see patches of tarrow, yam, papaya
and bananas, and some gardening of
small vegetables, with no other irriga-
tion but the downpour of tropical rain.

From early morn till late at night,
while these mountains cast their
shadows in the waters below, one will
always see native outriggers and small
canoes going back and forth loaded
with laughing natives. Their beauti-
ful songs, as they mark time while
rowing can be heard from one side of
the harbor to the other, the echoes of
their laughter repeating itself in the
stillness of the air. To make their
work lighter by singing is an old Sa-
moan custom. Among the sweetest
church singers the writer ever met in
any land are these Samoans. In the
midst of these deep shadows in the
water there is nothing so beautiful on
a moonlight night as the silvery rays
and reflection of the moon on the sur-
face of the harbor. This would make a
subject for a poet or an artist.

One evening I wanted to go across
the bay instead of walking two miles
around. About a dozen native boys,
with only a breach cloth around them,
were in an old canoe rowing near the
shore where I stood. "Say, boys,"
said I, "will you please row me
across?" "How much, how much?"
was the reply in chorus. "One shill-
ing," said I. "Two shillings, two
shillings," was again the chorus. Fin-
ally consenting to one shilling they
backed their canoe and I stepped in.
Half way across the bay I was sorry
for the bargain. The canoe was leak-
ing badly. That did not matter to
them, however, those little boys can
swim and dive like fishes. There is no
greater fun for them than to dive for
coins. While they were rowing me
across they had no end of fun at my
expense. My American clothes in such
a climate must have appeared just as
ridiculous to them as their brown,
naked bodies appeared handsome to
me. They would row a spell, then
laugh awhile. One must have heard
their merry laughter from both sides
of the harbor in that calm evening.
Between their rowing spells they would

OVERLAND MONTHLY

say: "You bluff, you bluff?" In an
interrogation manner. They must
have been deceived before, in the way
of a bargain. That was all the English
they apparently knew. "Oh, no; oh,
no!" I assured them, and I showed
them the shilling. The moment I
stepped ashore from the stern of the
boat I paid them their shilling. Then
you should have heard them laugh.
Their canoe was half full of water, but
they rowed back across the harbor just
the same, and what matter to them if
the boat sank?

They will sometimes go out and
swim a mile to meet the ship at sea,
for the early bird catches the early
worm. And while their legs are al-
ways in motion to keep afloat they will
keep calling: "Dime, five cents; dime,
five cents," until they see the sight of
a coin or coins dropping. Without
waiting until it reaches the water sur-
face they all dive simultaneously.
Sometimes they will go and dive from
the topmost deck of the ship if they are
permitted. As they do so, the last
sight of their brown, lithesome bodies
is a lot of legs and feet protruding up-
wards, then water bubbles for a mo-
ment. With the first appearance of
the face again there is a rounding of
the cheeks as they blow out and take
in air. Then a shaking of the head to
clear water out of their eyes and hair.
They will then pass one hand over
the face as a finishing touch while they
hold the coin or coins between their
teeth and cheek. But they are always
able to shout: "Dime, five cents," as
they pop out of the water.

So warm is the water of the ocean
at Samoa at all times of the year that
when people go bathing in the sea
they do not do so to cool off, but mere-
ly for pleasure and exercise.

The ability of Samoans as swim-
mers can be estimated from the follow-
ing strange experience. A native ca-
noe was returning from Pago Pago one
dark night on its way to Apia, distant
sixty miles. Thirty big brown skinned
Samoans were on board rowing, and
were ten miles from shore; then the
ocean waves became so tremendous

the long canoe, some sixty feet long,
broke in two and sank with everything
of freight. The thirty Samoans started
to swim, discarding their lava lava,
and by daylight twenty-nine of them
had reached the shore, only one hav-
ing been drowned by exhaustion.
Hairbreadth escapes of sea traveling
in open canoes in Samoa would fill a
volume. One day Bishop Broyer of
Moa-Moa was returning to Apia in one
of these long Samoan canoes. Two
clergymen and a lot of native rowers
were accompanying him. During the
voyage one of the clergymen had
heard some of the nails giving way
and the planks breaking considerably
as they were going over the waves.
Hardly had the boat touched the shore
at the very finish of the journey when
it broke completely in two. On ac-
count of these accidents the law now
forbids people traveling between Pago-
Pago and Apia in an open boat.

While in Apia I was passing by a
wharf, and one of these long, slender
canoes was arriving. It was rowed by
thirty big brown-skinned natives. They
had come a distance of forty miles in
less than four hours. There was a
sick priest in his thin black cassock in
the stern end of the boat. It was inter-
esting to see what tender care two of
the big chiefs were taking to support
him as they walked toward the mission.
For four hours they had rowed to the
time of Samoan music. Every man
of them was bareheaded in that hot
sun. Their hair was dressed with a
white coating of lime and water mix-
ture which keeps the head cool. So
the old philosophy of "keep a cool
head" is observed in Samoa in more
than a figurative way. From a dis-
tance this white coating of lime gives
them a patriarch appearance. And
this is a Samoan custom. Their bodies
above the waist were also smeared
with cocoanut oil, which gave them a
shiny appearance in the sun.

The native houses were most inter-
esting. They do not differ very much
from those of the native Hawaiians in
their primitive state. While the roof
is made of palm leaves at least a foot

OVERLAND MONTHLY

in thickness, which cools the interior
against the sun, the walls are wide
open during the day, allowing free cir-
culation of air on account of the cli-
mate. The walls are longer than wide,
but the four corners are rounded. This
gives the Samoan house a circle-like
appearance. That of a chief is about
forty feet in length. In case of a wind
or rain storm at night the walls are
provided with leaf mats in sections,
which can be lowered or raised at will.
The floors of all Samoan houses are
of gravel. Not a nail is used in the
making of a native house. Tieing ma-
terial consists of cocoanut fibres.

The first afternoon I was at Pago
Pago, I was taking a walk through the
village and following the circle of the
harbor. When some of the natives
see a stranger walking the road by
their houses, and they think it is his
first visit, they will beckon to him to
come in and sit on their mats on the
floor. About a dozen young women
were in one of those open wall houses,
and they beckoned to me to come in.
When I had seated myself on a mat
they offered me a native orange and
a drink of cava. Then they asked me
in broken English if I would like to
see a Samoan dance. Hardly had I
said yes when their low neck waists
without shirt vanished in a jiffy. The
beautiful forms they displayed with-
out any concern would make many a
vain white woman envious.

And this is what plain, natural living
and no tight lacing will do where life
is different. Their color is of a hand-
some light brown and their teeth are
like pearls. And these are the women
who have good, soul-free, innocent
laughter, like good American women.

Hardly any of them weighed less
than 190 pounds, and they were of
splendid proportion. When they had
taken off their waists they put on a
thin covering over their breasts. This
was fastened tight behind with pins.
Their necks and waists were encircled
with flowers and green trailings. This
dance differs entirely from the Siva
Siva, which I will mention later. The
contortions which they go through in

this performance does not appeal to
modesty, but it is an old Samoan cus-
tom of entertaining. I might say in
passing, for I made particular inqui-
ries of the missionaries, that the mor-
als of these women, considering the in-
fluence of white sailors ashore, are ex-
ceedingly good.

At one time, if a shower of rain
overtook them on their way home from
town, and they were dressed to meet
the European passengers of the steam-
ship, the women would remove their
waists and skirt in a jiffy, roll them
up, and carry them under their arms,
leaving only a fig leaf to cover them,
but the law now compels them to keep
on their dress in spite of the rain.

In most every village there is a na-
tive house provided for the meeting of
women who desire to marry. And
when a Samoan has decided to take
a wife he goes there and does his
courting in an open manner. When
they have decided to marry, the groom
in his lava lava goes off with his bride
to his new Samoan house. If he is not
yet a church member, and sometimes
in spite of that fact, he will live with
his wife until he knows she will bear
him children, for the Samoan husbands
are proud of having large families.
Race suicide in Samoa is still unknown
much to their credit. But if she
bears him no children, in spite of the
fact he may be a member of the Angli-
can or Wesleyan church, he will go and
live with another woman. In some
cases, as I had a chance to observe for
myself, a Samoan will put away his
wife, even after she has raised him
a large family. Then he will go and
live with a young wife with the idea
of having a larger family than his
neighbor. But he will also support the
first wife in true Mormon fashion. In
view of polygamy having been a pagan
custom among the early Samoans, the
Mormon religion appeals to some of
them, and so the Mormon church is an
established institution in Samoa. The
proof of a bride's virginity is made an
occasion of a religious ceremony
among the Samoans. The best friends
of the bride meet at a native house,

OVERLAND MONTHLY

and the bride sits on the best new mat
made for the occasion. With that
honor in view as the result of family
teaching for years, it is very seldom a
young woman will allow herself to be
taken advantage of in Samoa.

It is remarkable what little work the
Samoans require to do in order to make
a living. When you consider the lit-
tle clothes that both men and women
and children require, it is no wonder
one will find them so often at home
sleeping in the shade, or squatting in
their houses. That is not because they
are lazy, but their wants are few. Two
days a week only are required of him
to plant and cultivate his tarrow, yam,
bananas and harvest his food. Bread
fruit and pineapples grow wild. For
feast days, which are numerous, of
course, they always have some pigs
on their small cocoanut plantation,
which require no extra feeding.

The women do most of the fishing,
and that my moonlight. Tons of cocoa-
nut leaves are first gathered on the
beach, and that is made into a big rope,
leaf after leaf being tied together, un-
til the coil is about three feet in diam-
eter and over a thousand feet in length.
An outrigger canoe will take one end
of it and drag it out some distance un-
til it has encircled the fishes towards
the shore. As the sharp points of the
cocoanut leaves touch the fish it drives
them ahead. The women then wade
out behind the long rope and keep
pushing it towards the beach until they
have landed the fish right in front of
the rope. The catch is then divided
by the chief, who sees that no one in
the village will go hungry, for this is
village community life in Samoa.

When the writer was visiting the
mission at Moa Moa, the native sisters
were preparing Samoan food to be used
at some future time when that same
fruit is not in season. This consists
of bananas and breadfruit. Both fruits
are peeled, then wrapped up each sep-
arately in a banana leaf, and the whole
buried in the ground for a period of
six months. By that time both fruits
become soft by the natural process of
decomposition and smell rancid. This

food in Samoa is called mussie. When
taken up to be used it is mixed with
cocoanut milk and beaten into a thick
batter. Wrapped up in banana leaves
again it is placed on red hot stones and
covered over with some more banana
leaves to bake.

The origin of this dish is the scarcity
of food in former times when famine
was threatening. While bananas and
bread fruit would go to waste and rot
by being left unused in their season,
this process of food burying saves this
waste to the natives. The banana and
bread fruit each yield two crops per
year, namely in spring and autumn.

The education of the islands is di-
vided between the Anglicans, the Cath-
olics and Wesleyans, with a sprinkle
of Mormons. The Ajiglican church in
Apia has a good size boarding school
for girls and another for boys. The
London missionaries have trained cap-
able native assistants to carry on the
educational work. The salary for each
London missionary in Samoa with ser-
vants and residence free is $2,500 per
year. The Catholic fathers and Chris-
tian brothers and nuns adapt them-
selves to native food from the very be-
ginning, so their living expenses, in-
cluding clothing, do not exceed $250
per year each, which is their only sal-
ary. The London Protestant mission-
ary went to Samoa in 1830, while the
Marist fathers first landed there in
1845. The Catholics of the islands
number 7,500, while the London Mis-
sionary Society has 8,658 church
members. Although the Samoan
Islanders, before the missionaries
went there, practiced idolatry and
many superstitions, as some of them
do yet, they were never known to be
cannibals. Their present population
is about 38,000 people. Both the Pro-
testants and Catholics each issue a
church journal once a month in the
native language.

The nuns' schools throughout the
islands, for want of means, are made
entirely self-supporting. Imagine a
boarding school in the United States
where the girls would have to spend
three hours a day growing taro, yam

OVERLAND MONTHLY

and bananas and papaya for their food,
and earn their dress material by giving
Siva Siva performances, recitations
and songs, and accepting presents from
the visitors. Many of the young wo-
men range in age from twenty to
twenty-five years, and the majority re-
main until they are married.

The Siva Siva performance is most
interesting. This myself and a mis-
sionary attended one evening in the
Sisters' school in Pago Pago. The
English nun was on the eve of giving
the performance on the occasion of
opening her new school building, and
it was a rehearsal of that we attended.
The Siva Siva is chiefly calesthenics of
body, arm and head motion, while the
performers are sitting standing and
kneeling, keeping time to taoo music
on a drum. The Governor of Tutuilla
was to be present at the approaching
entertainment of this school.

In spite of the good work of mis-
sionaries in Apia and elsewhere, the
influence of moving pictures does not
promote morals and civilization. Such
a performance was given in Apia
some time ago in which a lot of cow-
boys were seen shooting. Two young
Samoans who had watched the show
made up their minds to go next morn-
ing and imitate the cowboys. So they
saddled horses and made for one of
the cocoanut plantations. They killed
the first white man they met, who was
working on the plantation, and before
a posse could be sent after them, they
had shot two other men fatally. Their
punishment was their own death, for
they also had to be shot before they
could be captured.

One strange sight in Samoa is the
disease of elephantiasis. The arms or
legs, and both, will sometimes grow
several times their normal size. It is
useless to operate on those parts of the
body, as the disease will return. The
disease also attacks some white peo-
ple after a long residence in the island.
The cause is not known, but the bite
of an insect is suspected. When peo-
ple afflicted with elephantiasis go to
Australia or New Zealand the disease
passes away, but will recur if the per-

son comes back and lives in Samoa
again.

The eye diseases among the natives
are a curiosity. An old native treat-
ment was to scrape the top of the eye-
ball with the sharp edge of a shell un-
til the surface bled, a very painful
treatment. In this way the surface of
the eye would become organized into
a fibrous tissue. Due to this wrong
treatment one will find a large number
of natives with one or both eyes blind.
There is no end of trachoma and
mixed infection in the eye diseases of
that country.

The most interesting experience in
all my travels was my visit to the
tomb and home of Robert Louis Ste-
venson. I saw for myself how much
love the natives must have had for this
charming author. The path they had
cut through a tropical jungle on the
side of a mountain forest to go and
bury his remains is so steep that one
can climb it in some places only by
pulling himself from tree to tree. To
have made that path a distance of two
miles to an altitude of 3,000 feet, and
to have carried his remains up that
precipice in such a climate, shows the
great love the natives had for Tusitala,
the writer of sweet tales.

As I stood by the side of that tomb,
and looked at the beautiful poinciana
and hibuseus flowers planted there
purposely, and gazed at the broad
Pacific at my feet, a feeling of intense
loneliness came over me. The grave
is not only a reminder of death but of
those we love among the living and
the dead. Just two years from the day
I stood alone on Mount Vaea, the very
man who had given me a chance to rise
in medical knowledge in far-off Oak-
land, Cal., passed away to eternity. In
such an hour of solitude we think of
other friends gone by. Whoever will
visit the tomb of Robert Louis Steven-
son, if he is alone, will have the same
experience. When I was shown
through the home and room where Tu-
sitala had done so much of his writ-
ings, a feeling of veneration came over
me also. Some of the keys of the
old piano he used to play are as silent

AMONG THE SOUTH SEA ISLANDERS

today because of rust as the performer
is now. So everything is passing away
with time. His bedstead, his arm-
chair, his black writing desk, his ink-
well, his penholders, his bookshelves,
and some of his books, all becoming
dusty with years, are still there as a
gentle reminder of the past. But the
old typewriter his friend, H. J. Moore,
still keeps in the attic of his store
down town, as a precious heirloom.

Some day, as time passes away, and
good literature lives, the home and
grave of Robert Louis Stevenson will
be sacred ground. A more beautiful
site and more magnificent grounds for
a home would be hard to find.

Who else but a genius of strange pe-
culiarities could have written his own
epitaph? It is so typical of his life,
and so true of the resting place of his
remains, that I will offer the verse
here, which I copied from the tomb.

"Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie ;
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me,
Here he lies where he longed to be
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill."

The letters are about two inches in
height. The dates, 1850-1894, are also
engraved beneath the epitaph.

How well he had thought also of
some appropriate words in loving
memory of Mrs. Robert Louis Steven-
son after death, at least twenty years
before her demise, for when she
passed away in 1914, and the dust of
her cremated remains were buried and
cemented in the same tomb, the fol-
lowing words of that sweet writer were
also engraved on that beautiful mon-
ument :

AOLELE

"Teacher, traveler, comrade wife,
A fellow friend true to life,
Heart-whole and soul-free
The August Father gave to me."

There is also a long epitaph in the
Samoan language engraved on one side
of the monument. It would be inter-

esting to read its translation into Eng-
lish. But this much I can prophesy in
my imagination. It speaks of love
that the author had for the Samoans;
it speaks of the love the Samoans had
for "Tusitala," which is the heading
of the epitaph. It is by that name he
went all over Samoa, which means
"Writer of Sweet Tales." It also
speaks of the many feasts he gave
them, of the conferences he had with
them, and how he inspired them to
live right by words and example. From
the abundance of the heart the mouth
speaketh. As the Samoans owed so
much to Tusitala for many deeds of
kindness, it is easy to translate such an
epitaph in imagination. Their desire
for his happiness in the hereafter were
not wanting in expressions. The aver-
age Samoan is nothing if he is not an
orator of ceremonies. So the words
of that epitaph must be of that nature.
To those who are familiar with the
tomb of the late poet, Henry Wads-
worth Longfellow, in Mount Auburn
Cemetery, Cambridge, Mass., I will
say the monument of Robert Louis
Stevenson is of that size and shape.
And it must have cost some labor and
love to climb all the material to the
top of Mount Vaea, which is so ex-
pressive of the first line of his epitaph :

"Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie."

One Saturday afternoon, Rev. Bis-
wald of Apia, who I knew, was anx-
ious to study Samoan life in their
primitive way of living, invited me to
accompany him to one of the branch
missions some fifteen miles from
Apia. At three o'clock p. m., two
horses were saddled and made ready
for us.

Most of the missionaries are at home
in the saddle, as it is in that way they
do much traveling. But he soon saw
that I was new in the saddle. "Break
your step, break your step," he would
say to me. At last I understood, and
I soon acquired the motion. We had
gone but two miles, when the priest,
in true military fashion, shouted : "Get
ready for a gallop, That will make rid-

OVERLAND MONTHLY

The village "taupau" in full regalia, with

head-knife, the favorite weapon in

Samoan warfare.

ing easier for you." Putting spurs to
his horse he was off like a flash, and
mine, which was fond of keeping with
his, did not need any speeding to fol-
low. It was a true John Gilpin ride.
My hat was in one hand, perspiration
pouring over me, so warm it was, and I
held the front of the saddle with the
other. I was terrified with fright.

As we were nearing one of the mis-
sions on the way, a tropical rain over-
took us, and we ran into shelter in a
native house. Our horses were at-
tended to and our hostess began to
prepare cava for our welcome. This
is the national drink of Samoa.

Cava is made from a native root. A
stranger or visitor entering a Samoan
home in the country is presented with
a piece of that root as a mark of wel-
come. The priest was also presented
with the same ceremony, although he
has visited there many times, This
root is cut up into bits beforehand and
dried in the sun. This then is pounded
on a flat stone into a powder ready for
use. When the drink is wanted some
of this powdered root is placed in a

large cava bowl made of wood for the
purpose. Then water is mixed with
this powder. In order to separate the
coarse grain from the drink, a bundle
of coarse root fibres is used to gather
this powder from the water, and the
whole is twisted together several times.
This squeezes the juice out of the cava
root into the water and separates the
coarse grain from the drink. This cere-
monious mixture being ready, the visi-
tors and host of the household clap
their hands several times. The guest
master then calls the name of each
visitor in turn, according to Samoan
custom, as each is presented with a
cocoanut cup of cava. It is a part of
Samoan etiquette to drink the cupful
without stopping. Samoa par excel-
lence is a country of native ceremon-
ies and hospitality. Nowhere are peo-
ple more courteous and polite in their
way than the Samoans.

The taste of cava is between that of
wild ginger roots, and some say of dish
water, but one soon gets used to it, and
the missionaries use it every day as a
cooling drink.

While we were enjoying cava and a

The "tulafale" (talking chief.)

AMONG THE SOUTH SEA ISLANDERS

rest, the native women of the village,
who had had a cricket match that day,
had gathered on the lawn in front and
were playing the game of forfeit. The
custom of the country is that the losers
of the game must perform on the lawn
and respond to the forfeits imposed on
them by the winners. This time the
forfeit consisted of a step dance on the
grass to the accompaniment of native
singing. There was much good natured
merriment on both sides. Wringing
wet with rain, the women's thin
waists and short lava skirt stuck to
their skin, and showing that taro root,
yam, bread fruit and banana can pro-
duce good physical development in Sa-
moan women. The weather now hav-
ing cleared, our horses were saddled
and made ready, and we were off
again. Several small rivers had to be
waded on the way, and some more
fierce galloping resumed. When I will
have such a ride again I don't know,
but we reached the mission, fifteen
miles from Apia, in due time.

The priest's arrival was heralded
far and near by means of a wooden
bell. This bell consists of a wooden
trough about six feet long, three feet
deep and three feet wide, made of a
log. When a person dies in the vil-
lage, or a missionary or a personage
.arrives, or to announce the hour of ser-
vice, or to bring the people of the vil-
lage together for any particular pur-
pose, a man goes to work and beats
this trough with two big sticks as one
does a drum. It makes a doleful sound
but one can hear it for two miles.

When we had seated our selves on
the best mats of the house, and in
places of honor marked by special
posts around the open walls, cava was
once more prepared and served in the
true Samoan fashion. Then one of the
chiefs, who had come to pay honor to
the missionary, and who wore the us-
ual lava lava with no upper garment,
began to make the speech of welcome.
Then the guest master or host, in the
same style of dress, and squatting in
the usual fashion on a mat of leaves on
the gravel floor, began to make his
address of ceremony to me. I was

made to believe I was a great person-
age, and I was given to understand
I represented a great nation. I did
not understand a word of it, but all that
was said with many jokes for the de-
lectation of all visitors and chiefs pres-
ent. And that is the Samoan custom.
For supper the hospitable natives of
the house had prepared good soup in
European fashion, and the following
bill of fare, which was equal to that
of a good hotel, namely, one pound
trouts baked in taro leaves on red hot
stones, taro root, yam and bread fruit
baked in the same fashion, one boiled
chicken, whole, and last but not least,
Samoan cabbage, which is taro tops
cooked with cocoanut milk. They had
even made tea, an article which they
never use, while we had a cocoanut
apiece to drink its sweet, cool milk
from. The table cloth was immacu-
late and their best spread. Where
could a lord be better treated in his
castle? This, then, is Samoan hospi-
tality to a missionary. About the same
bill of fare was served us for break-
fast at nine o'clock next morning.
While we were enjoying our evening
meal, the chiefs and the family took
their supper of taro and bread fruit and
fish on mats on the gravel floor.

Some steamship literature that
would induce people to patronize their
line of travel would have us believe
"the climate of Samoa is warm, but
not excessively so." The writer has
lived for three years in the Philippine
Islands, one year of which he spent in
Manila. From his experience in both
countries he can truthfully say that
the climate of Samoa is not only warm
but is excessively so for at least eight
months of the year. On the other
hand, the climate of the Philippine
Islands is warm, but not excessively
so, for at least nine months of the year.
It is therefore much warmer in Sa-
moa than in most parts of the Philip-
pine Islands. The climate of the
Oceanica in general and of the latitude
of Samoa in particular is too serious
on the lives of white people to be
passed off lightly. Robert Louis Ste-
venson, who lived and died in Samoa,

OVERLAND MONTHLY

wrote in glowing terms of the country
and climate, but his place of residence,
which is three miles from town, was at
an altitude of some 1,500 feet above
sea level, which makes a big differ-
ence in weather and temperature in
that latitude. There are physiological
periods in women under 40 years which
men escape by nature's laws, and that
accounts for the fact that the Oceanica
in general and the Samoan Islands in
particular are not a white man's coun-
try. The result of that depressing cli-
mate on white women., not native to
the country, and on white men in gen-
eral, is loss of energy, loss of weight,
anorexia, anemia, and finally a sus-
ceptibility to tuberculosis.

The women nurses, of whom there
are four in the U. S. Naval Hospital
at Pago Pago, and the wives of the
few American officers, all show the
dreadful effect of climate on white
women, even after only one year in
the country. To one accustomed to
the mild climate of the Pacific coast
of Oregon or California, that of Samoa
is intensely trying for the first few
months. It is true that some white
people have attained a ripe old age
in Samoa, but human natures are not
all strong alike to resist the heat
of that climate.

One cause of many white people
losing their health in that latitude is
wearing more clothing than the na-
tives do. If the Samoans have de-
veloped a splendid physique and far
superior to that of the average Euro-
pean, if is largely due to their well-
ventilated skin by wearing only the
lava lava. Nowhere does human skin
require more ventilation in the trop-
ics than in Samoa, on account of that
depressing climate of heat and rain.
The old habit of custom, mixed with
vanity of Europeans, can be seen in
that latitude when they will sacrifice
health for so-called propriety, even
though they wear white and light-
weight clothing. The very look of the
Samoan's handsome brown skin above
and below their lava lava appeals to
common sense.

The writer is not stating this as a

paid booster of some steamship com-
panies, but as a non-partisan narra^
tor of his visit and observations.

While copra exportation is the main
source of commerce in Samoa, and
the nation's chief means of earning a
living, two things regarding this in-
dustry came to my knowledge while I
was in Apia. A few years ago they
undertook to import rubber plants
from Java. The result was they also
imported a beetle that is fast destroy-
ing the magnificent cocoanut trees all
over the islands. Unless the Brit-
ish government on the islands of Up-
olu and Savaii, and the American au-
thorities on the Island of Tutuilla, will
combine and discover and import an
insect that will destroy those beetles
and not the cocoanut trees, the copra
industry all over the islands is doomed.
My other knowledge of the copra in-
dustry in Samoa that I obtained from
the American Consul in Apia is to
the effect that the British commander
or governor of Apia issued an order
forbidding the, exportation of copra
to the United States, in contempt of a
signed agreement, between Germany,
Great Britain and the United States,
that each power would have an equal
right of trading with those islands.
Orders were also issued to the effect
that all German business houses in
Apia and elsewhere in Upolu and Sa-
vaii must be closed by May 10. These
people had nothing to do with the
war, but it is another case of the good
having to suffer for the bad.

As the "Foot Note to History" by
Robert Louis Stevenson was written
in Apia, a few words of its teaching
may be appropriate in conclusion. Dis-
honesty and pride in politics will find
its own leveler sooner or later. Ac-
cording to Robert Louis Stevenson,
who had made thorough investigation,
and who wrote without the least pre-
judice, there was much dishonesty on
the part of German, American and
British representatives in Apia some
25 years ago, when they were trying
to settle the trouble as to the rightful
heir to the throne of Samoa. When
the warships of the three powers rep-

THE IRISH GUARDS.

resented in Apia were on the eve of
engaging in battle over this small
crown head, a tidal wave, and one
of the most awful hurricanes known
to the South Seas, as by an act of
Providence, came along, sank all these
warships to the bottom of the harbor,
only one escaping, and caused a fear-
ful loss of sailors' lives by drowning.
So it does not pay to be proud, bigoted

and prejudiced in authority, and to be
dishonest and jealous in politics. The
possession of wealth and power has
been known to be the father and the
trick of dishonesty and paganism.
Sooner or later this wealth and power
and pride, no matter of what nation,
are the cause of individual and na-
tional downfall. This is the history
of the world through the ages.

The Irish Guards

By Rudyard Kipling

(Queen Alexandra, accompanied by Princess Victoria, was
present at the Empire matinee, organized by Lady Paget, in
aid of the Irish Guards' War Fund. The chief novelty was the
recital by Mr. Henry Ainley of the following poem, entitled
"The Irish Guards," specially 'written for the occasion by Mr.
Rudyard Kipling) :

We're not so old in the Army List,

But we're not so young at our trade,
For we had the honor at Fontenoy

Of meeting the Guards' Brigade.
Twas Lally, Dillon, Bulkeley, Clare,

And Lee that led us then,
And after a hundred and seventy years

We're fighting for France again!

Old Days ! The wild geese are flighting

Head to the storm as they faced it before !

For where there are Irish there's bound to be fighting,
And when there's no fighting, it's Ireland no more !
Ireland no more!

The fashion's all for khaki now,

But once through France we went,
Full-dressed in scarlet Army cloth

The English left at Ghent. (Continued on p age 26)

26 OVERLAND MONTHLY

They're fighting on our side today,

But before they changed their clothes

The half of Europe knew our fame
As all of Ireland knows!

Old days! The wild geese are flying

Heads to the storm as they faced it before,

For where there are Irish there's memory undying,
And when we forget, it is Ireland no more !
Ireland no more!

From Barry Wood to Gouzeaucourt,

From Boyne to Pilkem Ridge,
The ancient days come back no more

Than water under the bridge.
But the bridge it stands and the water runs

As red as yesterday,
And the Irish move to the sound of the guns

Like salmon to the sea !

Old days ! The wild geese are ranging

Head to the storm as they faced it before,

For where there are Irish their hearts are unchanging,
And when they are changed, it -is Ireland no more !
Ireland no more!

We're not so old in the Army List,

But we're not so new in the ring.
For we carried our packs with Marshal Saxe

When Louis was our King.
But Douglas Haig's our Marshal now,

And we're King George's men,
And after one hundred and seventy years

We're fighting for France again!

Ah, France! And did we stand by you,

When life was made splendid with gifts and rewards?
Ah, France ! And will we deny you

In the hour of your agony, Mother of Swords ?

Old days! The wild geese are flighting,
Head to the storm as they faced it before,

For where there are Irish there's loving and fighting,
And when we stop either, it's Ireland no more !
Ireland no more!

The Spy

By Charles A. Cogswell

WHEN men get together and
believe that they are enjoy-
ing themselves the most,
they are usually to be found
telling tales of the one kind or the
other, some men tell long stories, some
short, some witty, some droll, and
some just plain otherwise.

Our little party was a meeting of
four old college acquaintances at a re-
union of the class of 1913, after a sep-
aration of five years. One of us had
become a doctor, one a lawyer, one a
traveling salesman, and the fourth had,
after trying several other things, fin-
ally become a teacher in the Colridge
School for the Deaf and Hard of Hear-
ing.

The Traveling Salesman had fin-
ished several short quick stories, to
which the doctor and the lawyer had
added several others, and it was sug-
gested that the teacher tell a story or
two.

After hesitating a moment or two as
though thinking, "I wonder if you fel-
lows would care to hear a story, one
slightly different from the kind we
have been telling, part of which came
under my own observation, due to my
knowledge of lip reading, and part of
which I have picked up from other
sources." Being assured that we
wanted him to proceed, he contributed
the following:

Scene One is The Domino Room of
the Hotel M., New York, Saturday,
8.30 p. m., two weeks ago.

Madam Coutrie sat at her favorite
table in the corner furthest from the
door. This was her vantage point;
from here she could watch not only the
dancers, but with equal facility could
observe the comings, the doings and

the departures of those who dined,
those who wined, and those who, for
the appearance of the thing, did their
bit of both.

When Monsieur Lynn Deveaux ar-
rived, he was late, just seven minutes,
by Madam's minute wrist watch.

Raising her hand to his lips: "It is
a thousand pardons I beg. My late-
ness, is it inexcusable? Only the most
pressing business, not business of my
own, for rather my buiness should fail
a hundred times than I should keep
Madam waiting, but it was the import-
ant advice which my nephew must
have, and which I alone could supply,
delayed me. I pray your indulgence,
Mon Amie."

"Ah, Monsieur, surely, the helping
of a relative or a friend, like Charity,
covers a multitude of sin. Since it
was not blue eyes, golden hair and
girlish laughter that delayed Monsieur,
Monsieur is forgiven. You see, I fear
for you, my friend."

"Ma chere! A young voice, blue
eyes, a golden curl! What are they,
with Madam here? Who knows my
heart as well as Madam ?"

"Ah, indeed, Monsieur, when Ma-
dam is here. So? Madam's charms
are not then yet faded? Well! But I
suppose it is true I am not as young as
when we first met in the little town
of "

"Sh! Madam forgets. In America
there is a saying : 'Even the walls have
ears!' Thirty-seven is not old, ma
chere!"

"Forty-one, my friend, though I
thank you for the compliment."

"Impossible!"

"No, not impossible. On the other
hand quite true, too true. But it is not
of my age that I would converse. Age
Jy-3

OVERLAND MONTHLY

is a matter of cold, hard, facts, which
neither you nor I can change. It is
of another matter that I wish to talk.
The rumor reaches me that you are
seen, of late, paying marked attentions
to one, Miss Braynell. Of course,
Monsieur understands "

"It is absurd. A mere child, barely
eighteen, Mon Dieu let us change the
subject."

"As Monsieur wishes." The sub-
ject was changed, but it was more than
evident that Madam Coutrie was not
pleased. She bit her lip, then giving
her shoulders a slight shrug, carried
the conversation over safer grounds.

Scene Two, same as scene one.

Two days had passed since Madam
Coutrie and Monsieur Deveaux last
dined together in the Domino Room of

the Hotel M , Monsieur had been

there both the subsequent evenings,
but Madam, partly because of other
matters, and, possibly, partly out of
pique towards Monsieur, had not been
to their usual meeting place, the little
table in the corner furthest from the
door. But tonight she again appeared,
and the head waiter hurried forward
and escorted her to her customary seat.

As she seated herself, a gentle-
man arose from one of the nearby
tables, and crossing the intervening
space, placed his hand on the back of
the chair opposite Madam. "May I
have the honor of joining you?" he
asked.

"My dear Mr. Dunston," she greeted
him. "This is a pleasure, but I am
waiting the arrival of your uncle,
Monsieur Deveaux. Perhaps, though,
when he arrives he will ask you to
join us."

"Well, I don't know so much that he
would," he replied. "But you see,
Monsieur is giving a little dinner party
up-stairs in his suite this evening, en-
tertaining the charming Miss Braynell,
so I figure that there is not much
chance of his showing up here, though
his party is not due to commence for
more than an hour yet. It sure would
be my tough luck if uncle should ap-
pear on the scene. He is a jealous old

chap, sure enough. He would prob-
ably wring my neck for me. If Ma-
dam only would let me "

"Now, now, friend Dunston, remem-
ber your promise, no more love mak-
ing, you know. You may join me,
though I am only eating a bite, as I
must hurry, for I have many things
to attend to this evening."

Scene Three The Party.

Monsieur Deveaux's party was pro-
gressing nicely. The guests had ar-
rived, Miss Braynell and her father,
Mrs. Darby, a mutal friend of Mon-
sieur and of the Braynell s, and Mon-
sieur's nephew, Mr. Dunston. Dinner
had been announced, and the guests
seated. Monsieur, lifting the cover
from off the platter that had just been
brought in, disclosed a plump, well-
browned turkey; there was a sudden
commotion in the outer room. Mon-
sieur rose and hastened to the door.
Opening it, he glanced into the next
room, uttered an exclamation, passed
through the doorway and closed the
door behind him, but not before the
guests had seen an infuriated woman
struggling in the hands of Monsieur's
Chinese valet.

The door had closed, the guests had
hardly had time to exchange startled
glances, Monsieur's voice rang out
vibrating with sudden fear, "My God!
Ah! Help!"

The guests rushed into the room.
On the floor lay Monsieur, blood ooz-
ing from his side; near him, leaning
against a chair as for support, stood
Madam Coutrie. With one of her
hands she was rubbing her neck, while
in the other, partly hidden by the folds
of her dress, she held a long, slim-
bladed stiletto.

"He tried to choke me," she gasped.
"I had to stab him to save my life.
He is dead? Oh, I know he is dead.
Oh! Oh!"

The guests had all stopped stock
still, just inside the door. Even Mon-
sieur's little Chinese valet, with his
back pressed tightly against the outer
door, stood as though hypnotized, his
eyes nearly round with the horror of it.

THE SPY

There was a groan. Monsieur open-
ed his eyes. "Help me!" he called
out. "I am wounded." Mr. Dunston
sprang to his aid, opened his waistcoat,
and attempted to stop the flow of
blood.

"Arrest her/' Monsieur called out.
"Arrest her, she is a dangerous wo-
man, a German spy. I can prove it,"
raising his voice above Madam's as
she tried to check him, calling out to
him to be quiet, to take it easy, that
he was killing himself. "I can prove
it." He fairly yelled the words. "On
the chain around her neck she wears
an amulet on one side of which you
will find engraved certain hieroglyph-
ics, on the other side is engraved her
agency number, 418, followed by her
series number, 12. I tell you, ar-
rest her. Arrest her ; you will find val-
uable government papers in her pos-
session."

Here Monsieur, who was apparently
suffering great pain, fainted.

Madam Coutrie, who all this time
had veen very excited, calling out,
"Be quiet. It is a lie. Oh, Monsieur,
how can you?" and like terms, now
grew quite cool and composed.

"I am sorry that this has happened,"
she said in a calm and even tone, ad-
dressing herself, not so much to the
guests as to the house detective, who
had entered just as Monsieur had
fainted. "You see," she held out a
badge for inspection, "I am a United
States Secret Service Agent. What
Monsieur has said to these people to
the effect that I am a German spy is,
of course, absurd. I do not deny that
I have in my possession papers of
great value to the United States gov-
ernment, papers that would do im-
measurable harm if they came into the
possession of Germany. They are in
my possession merely because I, as
an agent of the United States govern-
ment, have been able to trace them
down before they reached enemy
hands. These papers were in Mon-
sieur's safe, which you see stands
open. His Chinese servant caught me
taking them from the safe. Monsieur
Deveaux, in trying to take them from

me, nearly choked me to death. I
was forced to stab him. He will, of
course, be arrested upon his regaining
consciousness. I will ask you to see to
that. The amulet Monsieur spoke of
is one which he himself gave to me
in rememberance of our first meeting
when I was in Germany several years
ago on government business. The num-
bers represent the 4th month 18th day,
1912."

Turning and looking Mr. Dunston
squarely in the eyes, she continued:
"This gentleman here is Monsieur's
nephew, also a German spy. Perhaps
you had better put the handcuffs on
him. Do not let him escape."

Albert Dunston had been kneeling
beside his uncle, attempting to bring
him back to consciousness. He now
rose to his feet. Bringing his hand
from behind his back, he covered
Madam with a very business looking
like revolver.

"Very neatly played, my dear
Madam Coutrie. However, I am not
as you thought it might interest you
to know a German spy like yourself,
pretending to the outside world to be
a Frenchwoman while at the same time
acting as a United States Secret Ser-
vice agent, that you might find it pos-
sible to get inside information for the
enemy. As a United States Govern-
ment agent I have been on the trail of
you and my uncle for several months,
even long before I had the pleasure of
meeting you. Your accusation of me
is due to no other cause than my at-
tempts to break up my uncle's fas-
cination for you. Not only was he
fascinated by you, but in addition he
was a pacifist, and thought that in aid-
ing you he would help bring peace.
He was mistaken in his ideas, never-
theless, in his attempt to carry them
out he has proven himself a traitor to
his country. He has met his just de-
serts. He is dead. I arrest you in the
name of the United States govern-
ment. Kindly hand over the papers
taken from my uncle's safe, your Se-
cret Service badge, and indentification
amulet. The government has use for
them."

OVERLAND MONTHLY

Madam glanced at the body of Mon-
sieur, shrugged her shoulders, and
handed over the papers, the amulet
and the badge as requested.

Turning to the House Detective, Mr.
Dunston handed him Madam's badge
and his own, requesting him to note
the similarity and minute differences.
Glancing carefully but quickly through
the papers he had received from Ma-
dam, Mr. Dunston placed them to-
gether with the amulet in an inside
pocket. Taking the two badges back
from the house detective, he cautioned,
"Just a few minutes in which to get
Madam away before you call the po-
lice. I don't want the contents of any
of these papers to get into the news-

papers. No, I guess we will not need
handcuffs. Madam is not likely to
make a disturbance, and the hand-
cuffs would be rather conspicuous."

He started towards the door with
Madam. Just as he reached it he
turned to speak again. The door
opened behind him.

Two of the items composing this
story found their way into the early
morning papers: one of the death of
the wealthy Monsieur Deveaux, a

guest of the Hotel M ; the other

of the capture of two German spies
passing under the names of Madam
Coutrie and Mr. Albert Dunston. A
wonderful institution is the modern
newspaper.

A THRUSH BEFORE DAWN

Darkling, deliberate, what sings

This wonderful one, alone, at peace ?
What wilder things than song, what things

Sweeter than youth, clearer than Greece,
Dearer than Italy, untold
Delight, and freshness centuries old?

And first first-loves, a multitude,

The exaltation of their pain:
Ancestral childhood long renewed;

And midnights of invisible rain :
And gardens, gardens, night and day,
Gardens and childhood all the way.

What Middle Ages passionate,

O passionless voice! What distant bells
Lodged in the hills, what palace state

Illyrian! For it speaks, it tells,
Without desire, without dismay,
Some morrow and some yesterday.

ALICE MEYNELL.

Along San Francisco's Front

By E. /A. North Whitcomb

DID you ever take a walk around
the city front, including the
new wall, the Marina, and the
southern part of town?
If you have not done so, you have
missed a part of your life. But did you
walk there when you were young, or
when San Francisco was young? Did
you then walk around the City Front
when it was minus the "Sea Wall/' mi-
nus the Marina, minus the southern
part of the "Front," finding there only
the Boat Clubs, the old Lime Kiln,
the big hot water pipe from the brew-
ery, where, after a swim in the bay,
you could go and sit under the hot
water drippings and get warm, or slide
down some of the greasy, soapy
"ways" that had been used for launch-
ing or hauling out schooners and scows
that sailed the raging main of the Sac-
ramento ?

If you did, you remember (for no
one who lived in San Francisco while
history was a-making in the ? 50's and
60's could forget anything of that time)
the great tug Goliath. She was the
second tug boat built in the United
States, and the oldest steam vessel on
the Pacific Coast. What a history she
had. Originally, a side wheeler, with
a walking beam and built in New York
for W. H. Webb in '48, she came
round the Horn to San Francisco,
where she was placed on the run to
Sacramento in the Golden Days, when
that river was clear and deep and wide
and altogether lovely. Before placing
her in the river trade she was length-
ened and had her name changed to the
Defender, but hydraulic mining de-
bris soon put an end to river traffic and
the blue water of the ocean became
again her home, and it was while run-
ning to Panama under command of

Capt. Haley the rescue of the passen-
gers of the ill-fated Yankee Blade
took place. Later the old Goliath, hav-
ing resumed her name, was used as a
tow boat in this harbor, but she was
gradually superseded by faster and
more modern built boats, so was laid
up on the Mission flats till '64, when
she took on a new lease of life, was re-
fitted, sent to Puget Sound, where
again her usefulness was demonstrated
but in ? 94 she was abandoned, as so
many of the old time vessels were,
and finally in '99 she was made a
bonfire of on the beach at Seattle. She
used to lay at Broadway Wharf, the
oldest wharf in the city. It was built
in '49, about 250 feet long, and Com-
mercial street wharf, better known as
Long Wharf, was run out at Montgom-
ery street, about the same time, but in
? 50 the fire fiend wiped them all out,
but not for long. San Francisco must
have its boulevard, so they were al-
most immediately rebuilt, and ex-
tended a distance of almost 2,000 feet
into the bay; truly deserving the
names of Broadway and Long Wharf.
Who in San Francisco in the '50's and
early '60 's but enjoyed the Sunday
tour down Long Wharf. Remember
how everybody went down to the Front
to see the 4th of July regattas when
the Angel Dolly or the Viking, or some
other racer would carry the broom at
the mast head.

Then to stand out at the end and
look back at what was called "Harri-
son's Pier" or "Cunningham's wharf/'
or "Clark's Point." Then to wonder
over how the city's business parts of
town were being built on "spiles" or
"piles," as they were more commonly
called, and how the shore line was
rapidly being shoved into the bay. Un-

OVERLAND MONTHLY

der the houses,, and through the long
rows of piles, ebbed and flowed the
tide, bringing much flotsam and jet-
sam from the bay, but the worm, or
terrido, soon made havoc among the
moving foundations, and it wasn't sel-
dom that one heard of the sudden col-
lapse into the briny ooze of wharf,
house and contents, but this item in
the morning paper was only made an
occasion for another walk along shore
just to see what preparations were be-
ing made for rebuilding.

Do you remember what a commotion
there was when "Dad" came home and
told that Captain Folsom proposed to
fill in the water lot west of where now
stands the Bank of California ? It was
the talk of the town, and it was some-
thing new to see in one's walk how
that water lot could swallow a sand-
hill but it paid, and so the streets
grew on piles and were later filled in
and many a doomed vessel was left
high and dry never to sail the salt seas
again. The sand poured around them,
actually burying them from sight. On
the one Sunday one saw the Old Ship
converted into a house with a flourish-
ing business, and one might, while sit-
ting on the taffrail on the side facing
the bay, go fishing, and on the follow-
ing Sunday there would be a street on
that side, and the ship would be high
and dry, except for the tide water.

There was the old ship Niantid
She carried about 450 tons she had
been hauled out on a water lot on what
is now the northwest corner of Clay
and Sansome streets. After lying there
a few weeks she was utilized as a store
ship, and all her sailing gear was taken
off, and spiles were driven on each
side to steady her, then the sand was
poured in. It wasn't long before her
story was told, and it was a sight to
walk around there and see how high
her sides were above the street. On
the next Sunday there were windows
cut and doors placed, and the ship Ni-
antic had been changed to the Hotel
Niantic, and for many years this hotel
was the home of many well known
citizens.

Then there was the old Apollo and

the brig Euphemia. Sure the Euphe-
mia was used as a prison in '49, and
was anchored at the corner of Jackson
and Battery streets, where Captain
Minturn's office and the California
Navigation Company's office used to
be. The Apollo was anchored near
the Euphemia, and was used as an ore
ship. Why, yes, old Captain Bichard
used to have charge, and his family
lived aboard for some years. Later,
when Battery street (named after the
famous Battery in New York) was
piled and capped, the old ship was
closed in and became a sailor board-
ing house, and called the Apollo Sa-
loon.

It was a most interesting object
seen from the street, as the side of
the hulk rose considerably above
the level of the street, and for many
a day it was the source of great won-
der to the rising generation (for we
were there), who could not imagine
how a ship could be found amid such
surroundings. Do you remember how
the fire laddies held possession of the
ship Thomas Bennett near the corner
of Sacramento and Sansome streets,
using it for a gathering place for the
Baltimore, New Orleans and Savan-
nah boys until the Monumental No. 6
Engine House was built ? Didn't they
have high jinks there ? Tell you what.
Then the Bennett fell into the trough of
the sand hills, instead of the sea, met
her fate and was covered from sight
by the clean, shiny sand. Now, these
"Early walks and talks" were most in-
teresting, because everybody knew
everybody else, and was willing to
stop and talk over the great strides the
city was making. Just think, from the
time when Governor Figueroa offered
Mr. Leese the choice of two locations
for business purposes, some time in
1836 one being at the mouth of Mis-
sion Creek, and the other at the en-
trance of the bay, near the Presidio.
But Mr. Leese, with the far-sighted-
ness of the Gringo, wouldn't take any-
thing but what was on the Water
Front, even in that early day.

After considerable legal delay the
first wooden house in San Francisco

ALONG SAN FRANCISCO'S FRONT.

was built, about 250 yards from the
beach and on the lot now known as the
southwest corner of Clay and Grant
avenue, formerly Dupont street. The
house was finished in time for a 4th of
July celebration in 1836. They had a
joyous "Fourth," as everybody came
to enjoy the new houses; before that,
Captain Richardson and Mr. Leese had
been tent holders. Thirty years after
that, San Francisco had 250,000 in-
habitants.

What glorious Fourths we used to
have in the early 50' s and 60's ! How
the firemen and the militia, the boys
and the girls, the men and the women,
all turned out, and the children rode
on the "machines, "and shouted, sang
and waved flags whenever they could
get them. Perhaps you remember
when the American barque, "Don
Quixote" (the same vessel that
brought Captain Leese's supplies up
from Monterey) came into harbor, and
how she was greeted ? After the Cap-
tain came on shore, how everybody
talked old times, when two American
and one Mexican vessel provided all
the colored bunting used at that mem-
orable Fourth of July of 1836, when
the American and Mexican flags
floated amicably together, the first
time the American flag had been dis-
played at Yerba Buena. In our walk
round town we will not forget the old
Broadway jail, now considerably re-
moved from the water front, near
which so much of the city's history
has been transacted, and to the old
timer it brings to mind the Front
again.

Somewhere about July 31, 1846, the
ship Brooklyn arrived with a large
number of Mormon emigrants; among
them Mr. Samuel Brannan, after whom
Brannan street is named. Very soon
after landing, there came trouble, and
Mr. Brannan had his share of it, de-
servedly or not. Mr. Brannan was
president of the Mormon Association,
and had been accused of mismanaging
the funds. The matter was brought
into court and he demanded a jury trial
the first ever heard of in California
by which Mr. Brannan was success-

fully cleared of any such base action.
There was the old steamer California
in the stream. Her first advent into
San Francisco Bay was on February
,28, 1849; there were but few people
at the Presidio, but those few were
startled at the sound of the steam
whistle, one of the first ever heard on
this coast. She was welcomed by a
salute from the five vessels of war un-
der Commodore Apelsby Catesby
Jones, whose flapship was the three-
decker of 74 guns, the Ohio, then the
greatest fighting machine belonging to
the United States, so it was said.

San Francisco then consisted of
thirty-two houses, scattered from
Brown's Hotel, on the southwest cor-
ner of Clay and Kearny, to Juan's, sit-
uated on the block north of Union
Square. Juana Baronie was the wash-
woman who gave the name to "Wash-
woman's Beach/' or Bay, where the
streams of water issuing from a spring
near the site of the public school, on
the corner of Washington and Mason,
flowed down past her house to the bay.
She was a half-Indian woman and
built the first house in that location,
just outside the Alcalde's limits. Then
as you turned down Stockton near
Francisco, there was the old Hospital
and City and County Jail. Of course
it wasn't a '49er, but in '59 the School
Department exchanged a lot on Green-
wich street for the Hospital site,
where a building was put up which
served its purpose well until the one
on the Potrero was built, when the old
building was bolted and barred and
turned into a County Jail. Dad and I
used to like to walk around it when
going to the old Fisherman's Wharf,
but it had fallen into decay, and like
a ship that passed in the night, it has
gone.

At Merchant and Montgomery
streets we take a look at the oldest
brick house in this locality. Some
time in May, 1850, a big scow came
up to Montgomery street loaded with
bricks from across the bay Corte
Madera. They came to the order of
Captain Henry F. Naglee, who was
the owner of the lot. The house was

OVERLAND MONTHLY

four months in building. In this house
much of the history of our well-be-
loved city has been enacted. Here
Judge Ogden Hoffman (the first Fed-
eral Judge to preside in California)
ordered his commission as Judge of
the U. S. District for the Northern
District of California to be spread up-
on the court minutes. This old time
parchment bore the signature of Presi-
dent Millard Fillmore, and was at-
tested by Daniel Webster, secretary of
the United States. David D. Douglas
was the first U. S. Marshal, and Geo.
Penn Johnston was his deputy. In
1851. the first U. S. Grand Jury was
impaneled in this building, and after
serving two days brought in twenty in-
dictments against Captain "Bob" Wat-
erman, familiarly known on the water
front as "Bully" Waterman of the ship
"Challenge;" and his cruel mate,
Douglas. Douglas tried to escape to
Monterey so that he might ship aboard
a brig lying there, and so escape the
justice that awaited him, but Colonel
Jack Hays, sheriff of San Francisco,
assisted by a number of sailors, cap-
tured him as he was concealed on a
farm wagon.

He was brought back to the city to
stand trial in the old building. Both
captain and mate were acquitted on
the murder charge, but were heavily
fined on the other indictments. This
building was also noted as the office
home of A. P. Crittenden, who was
shot and killed by Mrs. Laura D. Fair
on board the ferry boat El Capitan, in
November, 1874.

Dr. Toland, U. S. Attorney S. W.
Inge, Judge A. Glassell, and many
others of our grand old pioneers, made
their home in this building for years.
It was situated but a short distance
from the water front, and Captain Na-
glee often told that it cost him $140 per
thousand to lay the bricks, and the
carpenters, masons, etc., received
from $15 to $20 per day for their
labor, according to their skill.

But not alone in houses and ships,
San Francisco was rich in "charac-
ters." There were Emperor Norton,
and the two dogs, Bummer and Laza-

rus. Eh ! but they were pitiful as well
as interesting. There was Uncle
Freddy Coombs, more commonly
known as George Washington, owing
to his dress and general make-up. But
there were so many. Have you been
round Black Point? Oh, you mean the
Military Reservation. It is called
Point San Jose or Fort Mason now.
Do you know that old house owned by
Leonidas Haskell, who kept the tea
store ? On Lombard, near Franklin, it
stood, and that is the place where the
well beloved Senator Broderick passed
out of life as the result of a duel.

The house has been used by the
commandant for his quarters, and can
scarcely be recognized by the old tim-
ers. Now come down by Chestnut and
Stockton again. Why, where's the old
Toland Medical College? It is torn
down and rebuilt as "A Home for In-
ebriates." What a funny story that
site brings to mind. The building was
originally called "Pfeiffer's Folly," or
"Castle." Pfeiffer, you must know,
was a sort of an inventor, a seeker af-
ter the philosopher's stone. He trav-
eled across the plains, and finally
reached Sacramento New Helvetia
it was called then and he made
friends with General John A. Sutter,
and bought from some of the natives
a hen and a rooster, paying $50 for the
pair. Chickens and eggs were worth
their weight in gold those days, so,
being blessed with a thrifty wife, he
went into the poultry business. The
venture throve, and much of the geld
dust that was dug round his diggings
came into his hands. In ? 53 he left
Sacramento, and built this building in
San Francisco, which he declared to
be fire proof, and, owing to its pecul-
iar architecture, was long known as
Pfeiffer's Castle. Then he built a big
flour mill (having invented a new mill-
ing process) on Francisco street, but
owing to its errors of construction, it
failed, and was sold at auction, and
turned into tenement houses. He went
into many speculations, but was very
unfortunate three of his children died
in one day. So much trouble crowded
on the old man that his mind became

LAVENDER

clouded, and for many years he was
known as "Crazy Pfeiffer." He fin-
ally found rest in Lone Mountain (the
last home of so many of the splendid
men who made this city), leaving be-
hind him very little of the yellow metal
he had accumulated during his life.

But you're tired. Let us sit down
in "Pele Johnson's Coffee House/'
near "Ellen Moon's" old place and en-
joy a cup of real coffee, and perhaps

in your next walk you'll meet with
some of the old characters whom I
have mentioned. Wasn't it easy to
talk? Next morning, yes early, the
summons went forth, the beloved city
that was; all we had loved, was
doomed. It became a retrospection,
enveloped in a veil of ashes and
smoke that clouded the heavens that
had smiled upon St. Francis. Was it
all a dream? Nay, it is a Memory.

LAVENDER

Gray walls that lichen stains,
That take the sun and the rains,

Old, stately and wise;
Clipt yews, old lawns flag-bordered,
In ancient ways yet ordered;

South walk where the loud bee plies

Daylong till summer flies;
Here grows Lavender, here breathes England.

Gay cottage gardens, glad,
Comely, unkempt and mad,

Jumbled, jolly and quaint;
Nooks where some old man dozes ;
Currants and beans and roses

Mingling without restraint;

A wicket that long lacks paint;
Here grows Lavender, here breathes England.

Sprawling for elbow-room,
Spearing straight spikes of bloom,

Clean, wayward and tough;
Sweet and tall and slender,
True, enduring and tender,

Buoyant and bold and bluff,

Simplest, sanest of stuff;
Thus grows Lavender, thence breathes England.

Five Years on a Homestead

By Ars. J. C Osborn

IT WAS the old, old story of the city
mail struggling against sickness,
lack of employment, high cost of
living, with the mass of heteroge-
neous humanity about us all strug-
gling for a mere existence ; from with-
in that insistent voice saying: "Be
your own boss ; get back to the land/'
that decided my husband and myself
to take up a North Dakota homestead.

We had two children then, a little
lad one year and a half old, the other
a delicate baby girl of but six months
of age.

Our homestead was located in Ward
County, on that high plateau known
as the Great Divide, from which the
Mouse river circles back to the north
into Canada, and the Missouri flows
on its southern course.

It seemed such an easy avenue of es-
cape, the gift of a hundred and sixty
acres of land so alluring. When con-
ditions become intolerable, we will
grasp at any means of escape; as the
drowning man grasps at a straw. The
lure of gold has called men through
the sand and fire of the deserts, far
into the frozen north, amongst savage
African tribes; the bones of prospec-
tors have left a clearly seen trail across
the plains of our own fair land; and
always it has been man who was eager
to go in quest of the shining metal,
and always it has been woman who
followed him, not for the metal, but
to be near him; the man she loves, to
shield him, to nurse him and keep him
from harm. What nonsense this prat-
tle of the wife being "the clinging
vine," of man wishing to protect wo-
man. If either will admit the truth,
it is the maternal instinct of woman
that is forever solicitous for man, try-
ing to shield him, not only from the

elements, sickness or death, but also
the effects of his own debaucheries.

My husband preceded me to the
homestead. He went on before with
two carloads of live stock and farming
implements to make ready for my later
arrival. My father accompanied him.
I will explain in as few words as pos-
sible that it was my father's "pet
scheme" to have us go, and it was
greatly through his influence we de-
cided to go. He had hoped to get
some choice land for himself, and al-
though he was then a man of seventy,
was nothing loath to make easy money
if afforded a chance.

Never will I forget the day I bade
my friends and relatives and native
State adieu at Minneapolis, and em-
barked for the first time on an emi-
grant train.

The train was crowded to its fullest
capacity with women and children,
with a few men. There were the us-
ual number of Russians immigrating
into Canada, eating sunflower seeds,
and munching peanuts. And ah! the
number of babies and small children
on that train, being carried into the
cold northland far from towns, drugs,
doctors and nurses; but what matter,
if only their fathers got land, which
in time meant gold.

One woman had five little ones with
her, the oldest perhaps six years, the
youngest an infant, at the most not
over four weeks old. Second to the
baby, a little lad of about two years,
was very sick, and to soothe his fretful
crying, his mother gave him frequent
drinks of alkali water, the only kind to
be had.

My own little ones were nervous and
fretful, especially at their usual bed
time. I got them both to sleep, and

FIVE YEARS ON A HOMESTEAD.

went to sleep myself in the early even-
ing. The baby was across my lap, my
little man on the seat beside me, with
his little head propped against my
knee, and I laid my head on the win-
dow casing. The noise and jolting of
the train made me so exhausted that
I slept in that position so soundly a
woman shook me to tell me my baby
was crying. Whenever I see an emi-
grant train it reminds me of the ^ story
of the woman with the many children
who was asked if they were all her
children, or a picnic, to which she re-
plied : "They are all my children, and
no picnic!"

Thus we arrived at Velva, the star
city on the Mouse, at about two-thirty
in the morning. There is always a
touch of sadness to me in the name
Velva, just why I do not know. Per-
haps because we entered it so full of
hopes and left it in despair. My hus-
band met me there, and after a couple
of hours sleep, we started for the
homestead, on the old farm wagon. It
had on it the double box, the under
part contained our range, and three or
four full-blood Poland-China hogs;
over them were boards, on which were
tied tables, chairs, satchels and num-
erous other articles, all that could be
piled on, and tied there, and certainly
all two horses could haul.

I had not expected to find cold wea-
ther in April, and was thinly clad. Lit-
tle Clarence sat between husband and
I on the seat, and after we had jolted
over many weary miles, went to sleep.
The baby wailed dismally from the
cold wind that blew across the snow
drifts that were scattered all along the
way. Late in the afternoon we ar-
rived at the homestead. Imagine what
it was like. One hundred and sixty
acres of bleak prairie, not a furrow
plowed, our two cows staked out, with
no shelter of any kind; no habitation
of any kind but an eight by ten shack,
boards with tar paper over them.

As my father was with us it was
necessary to have two beds, and as
there was not room enough for the two
beds on the floor, a spring with mat-
tress covering was nailed onto two by

fours above the other bed, and a cou-
ple of feet from the roof, the eaves
even with the bed on the back side.
The range and a small dry goods box
completed the furniture of the room,
and we had scarcely room to walk be-
tween. My father sat upon the bed to
eat his meals, while husband and I sat
on the box, and the babies sat on the
floor or bed, whichever place we could
find room for them. That shack was
our only house from April to Novem-
ber of that year.

The April winds blew sand and
sometimes snow through the cracks.
My old father suffered from the cold,
and would build up hot fires at night,
and then it would be anything but cold
to us next the roof. Sometimes strange
horses came around to tear open the
tent we had set up, which contained
our furniture and several sacks of
bran that was so alluring to the prairie
horse that seldom saw any; and the
words my husband used when he was
compelled to climb down from the
second-story bed to chase these mid-
night marauders were not polite, to
say the least.

While husband and father were
busy hauling the remainder of our ma-
chinery, household goods, etc., from
Velva to the homestead, making pas-
ture fence, building a stable, ^digging
a well, and turning over prairie sod
under the breaking plow, I was not
without my experiences. The weather
remained cold until June with ice an
inch thick in the month of May. Still
I had to do my washing right out ^ in
the open, for there were no laundries
there. My sewing machine stood in
the tent, and every heavy wind filled
it with sand that took time and care to
clean out whenever I wanted to use it,
and my sewing was all done there in
the wind and cold. I had never seen
lignite coal before, and did not know
how to use it, and as it was our only
fuel, I was never certain as to how
and when I would have the meals
ready. When at last I found it needed
a stove with a powerful draft and
plenty of time to become ignited, I
had no more trouble, only to cool off

OVERLAND MONTHLY

the little shack before it became nec-
essary to cook the next meal.

When I was alone with my children
one bright morning I saw the largest
hog I had ever seen advancing toward
my baby that was playing by the door.
I will never forget his fierce look and
long tusks. Perhaps it had strayed
from some ranch when a pig, and mak-
ing his own way on the prairie had not
improved his looks any. I rushed to-
wards him to frighten him away; the
dog saw me, and also rushed towards
him; the hog turned and jumped over
a four-foot fence into our own pig sty
with one bound; commenced to chase
the hogs around. I went in there, too,
frying to keep the wild hog from hurt-
ing ours. Although I whipped him
over the nose with all my strength, I
could make no impression upon his
tough hide, and in a few minutes he
had killed our valuable Poland-China
boar. My father captured the wild
hog, penned it up, fed it, and finally
slaughtered it. What was lacking in
flavor was made up in the bulk of the
meat.

I had been there a month before I
even saw a woman. It was Christmas
before any woman entered my house
for a neighborly call, but the bache-
lors, of which there were a half dozen,
or more, on surrounding claims, came
quite often to have me bake their
bread, and sometimes take my place at
the dry goods box for a supper. They
were the only people I saw all that
first summer, to tell me aught of the
outside world. Once a month, per-
haps, I would ride into Ruso, the near-
est little town, to the general mer-
chandise store, and invariably men
were all I would see there.

The spring was so dry people began
to think there would be no crops. The
fourth of July was a very hot day, fol-
lowed by a severe electrical storm, the
first rain of the season. Our roof
leaked like a sieve; the floor was
flooded with water. My father, luckily,
was away claim hunting, so husband
and I each found one little nook to
stand in that was comparatively dry.
There we remained, each holding a

baby, clad in only our night clothes,
until the storm was over. In about
two hours the worst had passed over.
We went to the tent, found a few dry
blankets, rolled into them until morn-
ing. The next day I spent drying
clothes. I had taken a good mattress
outside to dry in the sun, and not
knowing that the lignite ashes hold
fire for hours and even days, I carried
a pan of ashes past; a light wind blew
some sparks onto the mattress, which
soon went up in smoke.

No life is all hardship, and one pic-
ture is ever fresh in my memory, caus-
ing smiles and perhaps a tear back of
the smiles. My little Clarence, who
was so fat and clumsy he could hardly
walk on the dry prairie grass, was
continually followed by a rascally lit-
tle colt, that would pull off his little
red cap with her teeth, seemingly just
to hear him cry. Little Clarence is
half grown now, and the little colt
grew up, raised more of her kind and
died.

Husband got fourteen acres plowed
that first year, and into flax crop.
When threshed there was fifty-seven
bushels of flax to provide seed grain
for the next year, the maintenance of
the family of four, purchase feed for
the four horses, and the wear and tear
on machinery, etc. My father fur-
nished feed for the horses, however,
and loaned us forty dollars for the
family. I sometimes wonder just how
we lived. I only know we did, without
actual want for food, and like the He-
brews of old, must have had manna
sent from Heaven, though in a differ-
ent way a few vegetables from the
garden, wild game, milk and butter
from the cows, and eggs from the
chickens.

In November, after the first snow,
husband moved the little shack, en-
larged it two feet on one side, and
built another good-sized room onto it,
so I was then the proud possessor of
a two room house ; and I certainly de-
served it, for I had helped to hold the
rafters in place while husband nailed
them, just as I took my part in pulling
out the dirt when he dug the well, or

FIVE YEARS ON A HOMESTEAD.

went with him in building the pasture
fences. There was no one he could
hire to help him, and he had no money
to hire them if there had been. Each
one was busy improving his own prop-
erty.

The winter had been a mild one, for
Dakota no heavy snows and little
severe cold or wind. The last day of
March several of the bachelor boys
came out from the coal mine, where
they were staying, to the homestead
next to ours, with wagons, to haul back
some hay. The evening was beauti-
ful and warm, with promise of spring
in the air. The next morning the
ground was covered with snow, two
or three feet deep in places, and the
air so bitterly cold as to make one pull
the bed covering closer, and wish
there were a janitor to turn on the heat
before one must get out and into
clothes. The bachelor boys came over
to "get a loaf of bread" from me, and
incidentally sat around my little shack
all day. Although it was larger than
the year before, our dwelling could
still be called nothing but a "shack."

It was only rough boards, papered
outside, and then layers of prairie sod
laid up against it to keep out the snow.
Such as it was, however, it afforded
shelter to many a traveler, besides our
own family. The boys just mentioned
and others who came into the neigh-
borhood for hay, would stay with us
until the weather cleared, and they
could go back with horses and get a
sleigh, and those who were out of
bread and did not know how to bake,
the stranger off the trail, "lost" and
those who came to save hay, and other
property from prairie fires, would all
come to our little home, assured of a
welcome.

It was about that time when we had
our first experience with prairie fires.
The fire swept for miles all around us
east, south and west, leaving us by
a wide berth, but during the night the
wind turned to the north, and we were
awakened by a loud knock at the door,
our bachelor neighbor, whom I shall
call Billy, calling us to get up, for the
fire was sweeping down upon us.

Well, it did look very near and noth-
ing between it and all we owned on
earth. I helped husband to get out
the horses on the breaking plow ; I held
the lantern while he tore up the sod
into a "fire break." Many a time we
laughed over it afterwards; the horses
excited, snorting, plunging, hard to
manage; the plow with a new "lay"
that would run too deep, and me half-
dressed, holding the lantern. Any-
way, the men whipped out the fire be-
fore it had reached a half mile of our
place, though the darkness was so de-
ceiving we thought the fire would be
upon us any minute.

The seed time of the second year
was over, and summer had come. Sum-
mer on the prairie! I once heard a
man say that life was worth living,
just to see a prairie sunset in June, and
I quite agree with him. The beautiful
sunset glow would linger in the west
till near midnight, and then the eastern
glow would proclaim the coming day:
so that even at midnight it was twi-
light; or on darker nights, when a mist
would obscure the light, the aurora
borealis would light up the whole sky
in beautiful, moving, colored lights.
The evening and early morning there
was one continual sound of birds call-
ing. The prairie chicken, wild ducks,
snipes, mud hens and the shike-poke
among the most common.

In among all these beauties, my life
at that time was one of unrest and
alarm, for I knew that I was soon to
pass through the valley of Danger,
and with no physicians within at least
eighteen miles, no nurses or servant
girls at all, myself little more than a
girl, with two small children small
wonder I was filled with dread appre-
hension. I tried to keep my mind oc-
cupied with manual duties. I planted
a large garden,and transplanted sev-
eral hundred cabbage plants. The
very next day an ice storm covered
them all, and when it melted away,
only a few of my cabbages were living,
and of those a stray cow eat several in
the fall, before garnering time. Then
I devoted my time to chickens and tur-
keys. The turkeys would go out every

OVERLAND MONTHLY

night, and I would carry the little ones
in my apron to keep the coyotes from
getting them. I succeeded in raising
a dozen beautiful bronze birds, but the
first blizzard of the fall froze ten of
them to death. The lack of experi-
ence, of knowledge of climatic changes
and more than all lack of money
were the cause of so many failures.

One bright Sunday morning and my
husband's birthday, he got up early,
real early, to hitch up the old gray
pacer, Sam, and speed away to the
nearest neighbors and back again with
her with him.

My story of our prairie life would
not be complete without a description
of this woman. She was a large, hand-
some woman, of about fifty years of
age. Her husband was an officer of
a Minnesota railroad, her grown daugh-
ters accomplished young ladies. She
left her beautiful home in the city to
hold down a claim not only for the
investment, but for the enjoyment of
country life. Her great peculiarity
was her love for animals. She would
talk and cry with her chickens, cows,
horse or dog, and treated them like hu-
mans. She was the kindest of kind
to those who pleased her, but woe to
those who displeased her. I can see
her yet, sailing (that is the most ex-
pressive word I can use), simply sail-
ing across the prarie in quest of cattle
which had gone astray. Though such
a large woman, she was so quick of
motion that she at one time jumped out
of her buggy, slapped the face of little
English Joe, right on the streets of the
main town, and was back in the buggy
and gone before he, or any one else,
could scarcely know what had hap-
pened. On this particular Sunday her
mission was one of peace, her object
one of mercy, for in less than an hour
after her coming she laid my little
baby girl all washed and dressed into
my arms, and was giving the other
two children their breakfast. A few
days later I read on a card sent to me :
"I hear you have another daughter.
Congratulations, or is it regrets?" I
looked across the sweep of green hills.
The sun was going down. Everything

was so beautiful, so peaceful. The
cows were coming home to calves in
the barn; the wild ducks were making
the hills echo and re-echo with sounds
of joy, for little shells were opening,
and there were many new bills to feed.
"Quack, quack, quack! Pom, pom-
pooooo." No scolding of coffee cold
or meals too late, or care of babies and
too many shoes to buy. "Quack,
quack, quack! Pom, pom-pooooo!"
Only peace and joy, great joy, and
praise to their Maker, with never a
worry about to-morrow, next week or
next year. Trust, perfect trust, in the
all-good life-giving power. Congratu-
lations or regrets? If we humans
would only take to heart these lessons
from our feathered friends! About
this time I heard of another little prai-
rie maid whose coming had cost the
mother's life. The husband had been
away, but returned in the evening. She
was so over- joyed to see him, and
seemed to be feeling so well! She
asked her husband to take a walk with
her. He said she was like some butter-
fly, gaily fluttering from flower to
flower. Her laughter broke the peace-
ful evening air. Sometimes she would
sing little snatches of song and the
next day she was gone! They sent
for a doctor, but before he could come
thirty-five miles, she had looked upon
her little babe, smiled, closed her eyes
and was no more. Her husband had
won that great object of his life, a
hundred and sixty acres of government
land, but the price he paid was a prai-
rie grave, where the sun beats down in
summer and dries up the wild flowers
that grow over her head; the winter
snow drifts high over it, and the win-
try wind howls around, and is her only
requiem. While the father and hus-
band has left what he had won as al-
most worthless, to take his motherless
children back to civilization to be
cared for. While thinking of these
things, I wrote back to my friends, "It
is 'Congratulations.' ' ; When I con-
sider all this dear, faithful little girl
has been to me since, I've never
changed my mind.

When we came to harvest our flax

FIVE YEARS ON A HOMESTEAD.

this, the second year, we were again
disappointed, for there was only one
hundred and thirty- two bushels from
thirty-six acres of plowed land. When
we settled all bills, we had about ten
dollars. With another full year before
us until we could expect another crop
or income of any kind. We had learned
to live economically, and things that
were absolutely necessary we could get
without cash, so long as we had the
homestead for security. In fact, be-
fore we had been there five years, we
could have bought almost anything,
from a pair of shoes to an automobile
with a simple note. Those notes, how-
ever, were to bear interest at the rate
of nine to twelve per cent.

We had had a hard time to get our
little grain threshed. The machine
moved in by our stacks of flax, when
the rain began to fall, which changed
to sleet and snow. I had prepared
quite a large quantity of food, and the
threshing men staid around, sheltered
from the storm until they had eaten it
nearly all. Then they went away for
a week. Then they gave me only a
few hours' warning. The weather had
cleared, and they were ready to thresh.
What would my lady readers do, I
wonder, if they were in my place, with
three small children, no help, ten or a
dozen men, hard worked and hungry,
coming for supper, and the nearest
town five miles away. There were
chickens to kill and clean, vegetables
to gather and prepare, but worst of all,
bread to bake. Oh, it was work for
me and then more work !

And when it was over we still had
some potatoes, carrots and beets in
the garden. They had been frosted
some, and were in danger of being
frozen solid, so I helped my husband

to gather them. I remember how I
knelt on the frozen ground, and
knocked the clods of frozen earth
from around the carrots, while the little
ones were alone in the house, and
every little while I would leave my
work and run to the house to see if
they were all right. Oh, how cold it
was! I would shake and turn blue
v/ith cold. Those first days of frosty
weather in the fall seemed the coldest
of the year.

We had just finished, and I began to
think I'd have a little time to devote to
housework and sewing, when I heard
a knock on the door. On opening it,
imagine my surprise and pleasure on
seeing by brother, wife and baby,
whom I had not seen for several years,
and whom I supposed hundreds of
miles away, in Canada, standing at the
door.

They stayed with us for two weeks,
and when they went they asked me to
go with them as far as Balfour, to visit
a cousin of mine, so I went for a two
days' visit. It was like the oasis one
finds in crossing the deserts. They
seem all the greener, these oases, by
contrast with the desert sand.

There was a stop of the train at a
little town called Kief, and by the way
the Russians were all about, dressed
in long fur coats and high Cossack hats
of fur, with long, flowing beards and
long Hair, chewing sunflower seeds and
peanuts, and rattling out the Russian
without pause or effort, one could well
believe the town a part or miniature of
old Kief. If only some one would in-
vent a machine to put their jaw-power,
while talking, to good use, it would run
my sewing machine for the rest of my
life.

To be continued.

In the Aist

By Boyd Cable

WHEN the Lieutenant turned
out of his dug-out in the
very small hours, he found
with satisfaction that a thin
gray mist was hanging low over the
ground.

"Can't see much/' he said half an
hour later, peering out from the front
trench. "But so much the better.
Means they won't be so likely to see
us. So long, old man. Come along,
Studd."

The other officer watched the two
crawl out and vanish into the misty
darkness. At intervals a flare light
leaped upward from one side or the
other, but it revealed nothing of the
ground showed only a dim white ra-
diance in the mist and vanished. Rifles
crackled spasmodically up and down
the unseen line, and very occasionally
a gun boomed a smothered report and
a shell swooshed over. But, on the
whole, the night was quiet, or might
be called so by comparison with other
nights, and the quietness lent color to
the belief that the Hun was quietly
evacuating his badly battered front
line. It was to discover what truth
was in the report that the Lieutenant
had crawled out with one man to get
as near as possible to the enemy trench
or still better, into or over it.

Fifty yards out the two ran into one
of their own listening posts, and the
Lieutenant halted a moment and held
a whispered talk with the N. C. O.
there. It was all quiet in front, he was
told, no sound of movement and only
a rifle shot or a light thrown at long
intervals.

"Might mean anything, or nothing,"
thought the Lieutenant. "Either a
trench full of Boche taking a chance
to sleep, or a trench empty except for

a caretaker to shoot or chuck up an
odd light."

He whispered as much to his com-
panion and both moved carefully on.
The ground was riddled with shell
holes and was soaking wet, and very
soon the two were saturated and caked
with sticky mud. Skirting the holes
and twisting about between them was
confusing to any sense of direction,
but the two had been well picked for
this special work and held fairly
straight on their way. No light had
shown for a good many minutes, and
the Lieutenant fancied that the mist
was thickening. He halted and waited
a minute, straining his eyes into the
mist and his ears to catch any sound.
There was nothing apparently to see
or hear, and he rose to his knees and
moved carefully forward again. As
he did so, a flare leaped upward with
a long hiss and a burst of light glowed
out. It faintly illumined the ground
and the black shadows of shell holes
about them the Lieutenant with a
jump at his heart stilled and stiffened
not six feet away and straight in
front, the figure of a man in a long
gray coat, his head craned forward
and resting on his arms crossed in
front of him and twisted in an attitude
of listening. Studd, crawling at the
Lieutenant's heels, saw at the same
moment, as was told by his hand
gripped and pressing a warning on the
Lieutenant's leg. The light died out,
and with infinite caution the Lieuten-
ant slid back level with Studd, and,
motioning him to follow, lay flat and
hitched himself a foot at a time to-
wards the right to circle round the re-
cumbent German. The man had not
been facing full on to them, but lay
stretched and looking toward their

THE MIST.

left, and by a careful circling right the
Lieutenant calculated he would clear
and creep behind him. A big shell
crater lay in their path, and after a
moment's hesitation the Lieutenant
slid very quietly down into it. Some
morsels of loose earth crumbled under
him, rolled down and fell with tiny
splashings into the pool at the bottom.
To the Lieutenant, the noise was most
disconcertingly loud and alarming, and
cursing himself for a fool not to have
thought of the water and the certainty
of his loosening earth to fall into it,
he crouched motionless, listening for
any sound that would tell of the lis-
tening German's alarm. Another light
rose, filling the mist with soft white
radiance and outlining the edge of the
crater above him. It outlined also the
dark shape of a figure halted appar-
ently in the very act of crawling down
into the crater from the opposite side.
The Lieutenant's first flashing thought
was that the German watcher had
heard him and was moving to investi-
gate; his second and quick-following
was of another German holding still
until the light fell. But a third idea
came so instantly on the other two that
before the soaring flare dropped, he
had time to move sharply, bringing the
man's outline more clearly against the
light. That look and the shape, be-
side but clear of the body, of a bent
leg, crooked knee upward, confirmed
his last suspicion. Studd slid over
soundless as a diving otter and down
beside him, and the Lieutenant whis-
pered: "See those two on the edge?"

^'Both dead, sir," said Studd, and the
Lieutenant nodded and heaved a little
sigh of relief. "And I think that first
was a dead 'un, too."

"Yes," whispered the Lieutenant.
"Looked natural and listening hard.
Remember now, though, he was bare-
headed. Dead all right. Come on."

They crept out past the two dead
men and, abating no fraction of their
caution, moved noiselessly forward
again. They passed many more dead
in the next score of yards, dead,
twisted and contorted to every possi-
ble and impossible attitude of unmis-

takable death and uncannily lifelike
postures, and came at last to scat-
tered fragments and loose hanging
strands of barbed-wire entanglements.
Here, according to previous arrange-
ment, Studd ex-poacher of civilian
days and expert scout of the battalion
moved ahead and led the way.
Broken strands of wire he lifted, with
gingerly delicate touch, and laid aside.
Fixed ones he raised, rolled silently
under and held up for the Lieutenant
to pass. Taut ones he grasped in one
hand, slid the jaws of his wire nippers
over and cut silently between his left-
hand fingers, so that the fingers still
gripped the severed ends, released the
ends carefully, one hand to each, and
squirmed through the gap.

There was very little uncut wire,
but the stealthy movements took time,
and half an hour had passed from first
wire to last and to the moment when
the Lieutenant, in imitation of the fig-
ure before him, flattened his body
close to the muddy ground and lay
still and listening. For five long min-
utes they lay, and then Studd twisted
his head and shoulders back. "No-
body," he whispered. "Just wait here
a minute, sir." He slipped back past
the Lieutenant a;nd almost immedi-
ately returned to his side. "I've cut
the loose wires away," he said. "Mark
this spot and try'n hit it if we have to
bolt quick. See look for this," and
he lifted a bayoneted rifle lying beside
them, and stabbed the bayonet down
into the ground with the rifle butt
standing up above the edge of the
broken parapet.

"Cross the trench," whispered the
Lieutenant, "and along behind it.
Safer there. Any sentry looking out
forward?"

Studd vanished over the parapet and
the Lieutenant squirmed after him.
The trench was wide and broken-
walled back and front, and both clam-
bered up the other side and began to
move along the far edge. In some
places the trench narrowed and deep-
ened, in others it widened and shal-
lowed in tumbled shell-craters, in
others again was almost obliterated in
Jy-4

OVERLAND MONTHLY

heaped and broken earth. The mist
had closed down and thickened to a
whity-gray blanket and the two moved
more freely, standing on their feet and
moving stooped and ready to drop at
a sound. They moved for a consider-
able distance without seeing a single
German.

Studd halted suddenly on the edge
of a trench which ran into the one they
were following.

"Communication trench/' said the
Lieutenant softly. "Doesn't seem to
be a soul in their front line."

"No, sir," said Studd, but there was
a puzzled note in his voice.

"Is this their front line we've been
moving along?" said the Lieutenant
with sudden suspicion. "Those lights
look farther off than they ought."

The dim lights certainly seemed to
be far out on their left and a little be-
hind them. A couple of rifles cracked
faintly, and they heard a bullet sigh
and whimper overhead. Closer and
with sharper reports half a dozen
rifles rap-rapped in answer but the
reports were still well out to their left
and behind them.

"Those are German rifles behind us.
We've left the front line/' said the
Lieutenant with sudden conviction.
"Struck slanting back. Been follow-
ing a communication trench. Damn!"

Studd without answering dropped
suddenly to earth, and without hesi-
tation the Lieutenant dropped beside
him and flattened down. A long si-
lence and the question trembling on
his lips was broken by a hasty move-
ment from Studd. "Quick, sir
back," he said, and hurriedly wriggled
back and into a shallow hole, the Lieu-
tenant close after him.

There was no need of the question
now. Plainly both could hear the
squelch of feet, the rustle of clothes,
the squeak and click of leather and
equipment. Slowly, one by one, a line
of men filed past their hiding place,
looming gray and shadowy through the
mist, stumbling and slipping so close
by that to the Lieutenant it seemed
that only one downward glance from
one passing figure was needed to dis-

cover them. Tumultuous thoughts
raced. What should he do if they were
discovered? Pass one quick word to
Studd to lie still, and jump and run,
trusting to draw pursuit after himself
and give Studd a chance to escape and
report? Or call Studd to run with him,
and both chance a bolt back the way
they came ? The thick mist might help
them, but the alarm would spread
quickly to the front trench. Or should
he snatch his revolver he wished he
hadn't put it back in his holster
blaze off all his rounds, yell and make
a row, rousing the German trench to
fire and disclose the strength holding
it? Could he risk movement enough
to get his revolver clear ? And all the
time he was counting the figures that
stumbled past five six seven
eight. Thirty-four he counted, and
then, just as he was going to move, an-
other lagging two. After that and a
long pause he held hurried consulta-
tion with Studd.

"They're moving up the way we
came down," he said. "We're right off
the front line. Must get back. Daren't
keep too close to this trench though.
D'you think we can strike across and
find the front line about where we
crossed?"

"Think so, sir," answered Studd.
"Must work a bit left-handed."

"Come on then. Keep close to-
gether," and they moved off.

In three minutes the Lieutenant
stopped with a smothered curse at the
jar of wire caught against his shins.

"'Ware wire," he said, and both
stopped and felt at it. "Nippers," he
said. "We must cut through." He
pulled his own nippers out and they
started to cut a path. "Tang," his
nippers swinging free of a cut wire
struck against another, and on the
sound came a sharp word out of the
mist ahead of them and apparently at
their very feet, a guttural question in
unmistakable German. Horrified, the
Lieutenant stood stiff, frozen for a mo-
ment, turned sharp and fumbled a way
back, his heart thumping and his
nerves tingling in anticipation of an-
other challenge or a sudden shot. But

THE MIST.

there was no further sound, and pres-
ently he and Studd were clear of the
wire and hurrying as silently as they
could away from the danger.

They stopped presently, and the
Lieutenant crouched and peered about
him. "Now where are we?" he said,
and then, as he caught the sound of
suppressed chuckling from Studd
crouched beside him, "What's the
joke? I don't see anything specially
funny about this job."

"I was thinkin' of that Germ back
there, sir/' said Studd, and giggled
again. "About another two steps and
we'd have fell fair on top of 'im. Bit
of a surprise like for 'im, sir."

The Lieutenant grinned a little him-
self. "Yes," he said, "but no more sur-
prise than I got when he sang out. Now
what d'you think is our direction?"

Studd looked round him, and
pointed promptly. The Lieutenant dis-
agreed and thought the course lay
nearly at right angles to Studd' s selec-
tion. He had his compass with him
and examined it carefully. "This bit
of their front line ran roughly north
and south," he said. "If we move
west it must fetch us back on it. We
must have twisted a bit coming out of
that wire but there's west," and he
pointed again.

"I can't figure it by compass, sir,"
said Studd, "but here's the way I
reckon we came." He scratched lines
on the ground between them with the
point of his wire nippers. "Here's our
line, and here's theirs running this
way."

"Yes, north," said the Lieutenant.

"But then it bends in towards ours
like this and ours bends back."

"Jove, so it does," admitted the
Lieutenant, thinking back to the trench
map he had studied so carefully be-
fore leaving. "And we moved north
behind their trench, so might be round
the corner; and a line west would just
carry us along behind their front
line."

Studd was still busy with his
scratchings. "Here's where we came
along and turned off -the communica-
tion trench. That would bring them

lights where we saw them about here.
Then we met them Germs and struck
off this way, and ran into that wire, an'
ran back here. So I figure we got to
go that way," and he pointed again.

"That's about it," agreed the Lieu-
tenant. "But as that's toward the wire
and our friend who sang out, we'll hold
left a bit to try and dodge him/'

He stood and looked about him. The
mist was wreathing and eddying slow-
ly about them and shut out everything
except a tiny patch of wet ground
about their feet. There was a distinct
whiteness now about the mist, and a
faint glow in the whiteness that told of
daylight coming, and the Lieutenant
moved hurriedly. "If it comes day
and the mist lifts, we're done in," he
said, and moved in the chosen direc-
tion. They reached wire again, but
watching for it this time avoided strik-
ing into it and turned, skirting it to-
wards their left. But the wire bent
back and was forcing them left again,
or circling back, and the Lieutenant
halted in despair. "We'll have to cut
through again and chance it," he said.
"We can't risk hanging about any
longer."

"I'll just search along a few yards,
sir, and see if there's an opening," said
Studd.

"Both go," said the Lieutenant. "Bet-
ter keep together."

Within a dozen yards both stopped
abruptly, and again sank to the ground,
the Lieutenant cursing angrily under
his breath. Both had caught the
sound of voices, and from their lower
position could see against the light a
line of standing men, apparently right
across their path. A spatter of rifle
fire sounded from somewhere out in
the mist, and a few bullets whispered
high overhead. Then came the distant
thud, thud, thud of half a dozen guns
firing. One shell wailed distantly over
another passed closer with a savage
rush, a third burst twenty yards away
with a glaring flash that penetrated
even the thick fog. The two had a
quick glimpse of a line of Germans in
long coats ducking their "coal scuttle"
helmets and throwing themselves to

OVERLAND MONTHLY

the ground. They were not more than
thirty feet away, and there were at
least a score of them. When their eyes
recovered from the flash of the shell,
the two could see not more than half a
dozen figures standing, could hear talk-
ing and laughing remarks,, and present-
ly heard scuffling sounds and saw fig-
ure after figure emerge from the
ground.

"Trench there," whispered Studd,
leaning in to the Lieutenant's ear.
"They jumped down."

"Yes," breathed the Lieutenant. He
was fingering cautiously at the wire
beside him. It was staked out, and as
far as he could discover there was
something like two feet clearance be-
tween the ground and the bottom stand.
It was a chance, and the position was
growing so desperate that any chance
was worth taking. He touched Studd's
elbow and began to wriggle under the
wires. Six feet in they found another
line stretched too low to crawl under
and could see and feel that the patch
of low wire extended some feet. "More
coming," whispered Studd, and the
Lieutenant heard again that sound of
squelching steps and moving men.
They could still see the gray shadowy
figures of the first lot standing in the
same place, and now out of the mist
emerged another shadowy group mov-
ing down the line and past it. There
was a good deal of low-toned calling
and talking between the two lots, and
the Lieutenant, seizing the chance to
work under cover of the noise, began
rapidly to nip his way through the
wire. It was only because of their low
position they could see the Germans
against the lighter mist, and he was
confident, or at least hoped, that from
the reversed position it was unlikely
they would be seen. The second party
passed out of sight, and now the two
could see a stir amongst the first lot,
saw them hoist and heave bags and
parcels to their shoulders and backs,
and begin to move slowly in the oppo-
site direction to that taken -by the party
passing them.

"Ration party or ammunition car-
riers," said Studd softly.

"And moving to the front line," said
the Lieutenant quickly. In an instant
he had a plan made. "We must follow
them. They'll guide us to the line. We
keep close as we can not lose touch
and not be seen. Quick, get through
here." He started to nip rapidly
through the wires. The party had
moved, and the outline of the last man
was blurring and fading into the mist.

The Lieutenant rose and began to
stride over the low wires. A last bar-
rier rose waist high. With an excla-
mation of anger he fell to work with
the nippers again, Studd assisting him.
The men had vanished. The Lieuten-
ant thrust through the wires. His coat
caught and he wrenched it free, push-
ed again and caught again. This time
the stout fabric of the trench coat held.
There was no second to waste. The
Lieutenant flung loose the waist-belt,
tore himself out of the sleeves and
broke clear, leaving the coat hung in
the wires. "Freer for running if we
have to bolt at the end," he said; and
hurried after the vanished line, with
Studd at his heels. They caught up
with it quickly almost too quickly,
because the Lieutenant almost overran
one laggard who had halted and was
stooped or kneeling doing something to
his bundle on the ground. The Lieu-
tenant just in time saw him rise and
swing the bundle to his shoulder and
hurry after the others. Behind him
came the two, close enough to keep
his dim outline in sight, stooping low
and ready to drop flat if need be, mov-
ing as silently as possible, checking
and waiting crouched down if they
found themselves coming too close on
their leader. So they kept him in
sight until he caught the others up,
followed them again so long that a
horrible doubt began to fill the Lieu-
tentnt's mind, a fear that they were
being led back instead of forward. He
would have looked at his compass, but
at that moment the dim gray figures
before him vanished abruptly one by
one.

He halted, listening, and Studd at
his elbow whispered, "Down into a
trench, sir." Both sank to their knees

THE MIST.

and crawled carefully forward, and in
a minute came to the trench and the
spot where the man had vanished.
"Coming near the front line, I ex-
pect," said the Lieutenant, and on the
word came the crack of a rifle from
the mist ahead. The Lieutenant
heaved a sigh of relief. "Keep down,"
he said. "Work along this trench
edge. Sure to lead to the front line."
A new hope flooded him. There was
still the front trench to cross, but the
ease with which they had first come
over it made him now, turning the pros-
pect over in his mind as he crawled,
consider that difficulty with a light
heart. His own trench and his friends
began to seem very near. Crossing the
neutral ground, which at other times
would have loomed as a dangerous ad-
venture, was nothing after this hair-
raising performance of blundering
about inside the German lines. He
moved with certainty and confidence,
although yet with the greatest caution.
Twice they came to a belt of wire run-
ning down to the edges of the trench
they followed. The Lieutenant, after
a brief pause to look and listen, slid
down into the trench, passed the wire,
climbed out again, always with Studd
close behind him. Once they lay flat
on the very edge of the trench and
watched a German pass along beneath
them so close they could have put a
hand on his helmet. Once more they
crouched in a shell hole while a dozen
men floundered along the trench. And
so they came at last to the front line.
Foot by foot they wriggled close up
to it. The Lieutenant at first saw no
sign of a German, but Studd beside
him gripped his arm with a warning
pressure, and the Lieutenant lay mo-
tionless. Suddenly, what he had taken
to be part of the outline of the parapet
beyond the trench moved and raised,
and he saw the outline of a steel-hel-
meted head and a pair of broad shoul-
ders. The man turned his head and
spoke, and with a shock the Lieutenant
heard a murmur of voices in the trench,
saw figures stir and move in the mist.
Studd wriggled noiselessly closer, and,
with his lips touching the Lieutenant's

ear, whispered : "I know where we are.
Remember this bit we're on. We
crossed to the left of here."

They backed away from the trench
a little and worked carefully along it to
their left, and presently Studd whis-
pered: "About here, I think." They
edged closer in, staring across for
sight of the silhouette of the rifle butt
above the parapet. The mist had grown
thicker again, and the parapet showed
no more than a faint gray bulk against
the lighter gray. The trench appeared
to be full of men "standing to" the
Lieutenant supposed they were and
they moved at the most appalling risk,
their lives hanging on their silence and
stealth^ perhaps on the chance of some
man climbing back out of the trench.
The Lieutenant was shivering with ex-
citement, his nerves jumping at every
movement or sound of a voice from the
trench beside them.

Studd grasped his elbow again and
pointed to the broken edge of trench
where they lay, and the Lieutenant,
thinking he recognized the spot they
had climbed out on their first crossing,
stared hard across to the parapet in
search of the rifle butt. He saw it at
last. But what lay between it and
them? Were there Germans crouching
in the trench bottom? But they must
risk that, risk everything in a dash
across and over the parapet. A puff
of wind stirred and set the mist eddy-
ing and lifting a moment. They dare
wait no longer. If the wind came the
mist would go, and with it would go
the chance of crossing No Man's land.
He whispered a moment to Studd, sat
up, twisted his legs round to the edge
of the trench, slid his trench dagger
from its sheath and settled his fingers
to a firm grip on the handle, took a
deep breath, and slid over feet fore-
most into the trench. In two quick
strides he was across it and scrambling
up the parapet. The trench here was
badly broken down and a muddy pool
lay in the bottom. Studd caught a foot
in something and splashed heavily,
and a voice from a yard or two on their
left called sharply. The Lieutenant
slithering over the parapet heard and

OVERLAND MONTHLY

cringed from the shot he felt must
come. But a voice to their right an-
swered; the Lieutenant slid down, saw
Studd scrambled over after, heard the
voices calling and answering and men
splashing in the trench behind them.
He rose to his feet and ran, Studd fol-
lowing close. From the parapet be-
hind came the spitting bang of a rifle,
and the bullet whipped past most un-
comfortably close. It would have been
safer perhaps to have dropped to shel-
ter in a shell hole and crawled on after
a reasonable wait, but the Lieutenant
had had enough of crawling and shell
holes for one night, and was in a
most single-minded hurry to get away
as far and as fast as he could from
Germans' neighborhood. He and Studd
ran on, and no more shots followed
them. The mist was thinning rapidly,
and they found their own outposts in
the act of withdrawal to the trench.
The Lieutenant hurried past them,
zigzagged through their own wire, and
with a gasp of relief jumped down into
the trench. He sat there a few min-
utes to recover his breath, and then
started along the line to find Head-

quarters and make his report.

On his way he met the officer who
had watched them leave the trench and
was greeted with a laugh. "Hullo, old
cock. Some mud ! You look as if you
had been crawling a bit. See any
Boche?"

"Crawling!" said the Lieutenant
"Any Boche! I've been doing noth-
ing but crawl for a hundred years
except when I was squirming on my
face. And Fve been falling over Boche,
treading on Boche, bumping into
Boche, listening to Boche remarks
oh, ever since I can remember," and he
laughed, just a trifle hysterically.

"Did you get over their line then?
If so, you're just back in time. Mist
has clean gone in the last few min-
utes." A sudden thought struck the
Lieutenant. He peered long and care-
fully over the parapet. The last wisps
of mist were shredding away and the
jumble of torn ground and trenches
and wire in the German lines was
plainly visible. "Look/' said the Lieu-
tenant. "Three or four hundred yards
behind their line hanging on some
wire. That's my coat."

LOVE'S PENALTY

Mind bids us forget; and so
We straightway vow to cast aside all thought
Of one we love and loving, are unhappy made;
But heart of such forgetting will have naught.

We seek new friends ; and mirrored in each face
Of those whom we would ask to take a part
In dulling memory's edge, we see the one we love ;
For in things of love, mind's subject to the heart.

We may solace seek in giddy whirl of pleasure
In solitude, mayhap, or change of clime,
But the heartache and the bitter longing lingers;
Lessened only by the soothing hand of time.

Mind bids us forget; and we endeavor
To escape the constant longing and the thought
Of one we love and loving, are tormented;
But heart of such forgetting will have naught.

W. W. LAIDLEY.

When Rea Played Cupid

(As Told by Herself)

By Lucy AViller

ITINKUN' mebbe, please, I like for
you to mek it me a wais', if you
bees so good. I buy it these cloth
for mek it." With these words
Rea unfolded before my startled gaze
a most gorgeous piece of gingham in
enormous checks of turkey-red plaid.
She loves to revel in intense blues,
never seen on sea or land, and reds that
outscream an anarchist flag on a mid-
summer day procession. Along with
the cloth, she had brought a waist pat-
tern of the year of '63 and a spool of
magenta silk thread for the stitching.
Gathering up the necessary dress-
making tools, we went out to butcher
the goods into a waist, under a big,
spreading old oak-tree. As I cut, fitted
and basted, Rea sat regaling me with
an account of how she once earned a
life-long dressmaking service and five
dollars in the bargain.

"I bees up in the mountains workin'
in a hotel where lots of peoples from
the city comes when days are mucho
calienta (very hot.) I am peelin' po-
tatoes an* washin' dishes an' clean it
up some rooms. They bees a young
Irish garrul, she tink she bees doin'
some cookin' there. She's good garrul
all right, but she doan know much
about cook. When she make it the
bread is black and sowie (sour), and
cow mens all time kickin' an' say to
boss : 'For why doan you get some one
who cool^ it good? If you doan we
leave queek.' So boss he talk it to
garrul one day. He say : 'See here, you
mek it more sowie bread, my boys say
he go. You got learn to mek it good
bread or you go.' Garrul she cry an'

cry : 'Oh, please, boss, you not send me
away. I show you I kin cook good
cookin'.' 'All right, I try you poco
more/ Girl she come crying to me:
'Oh, Rea, how you mek it good sponge
for mek bread? I like for to know.'
I know one senora what mek fine
bread, so I tell garrul she go talk it
wit' her, then mebbe she is learn to
mek the good bread. By'm by garrul
come back from seein' the senora an'
she bees laffin' an' hap' wit' her a bowl
of nice light sponge for set bread. Nex 5
day bread all same, heavy, sowie, bad
bread. Garrul she cry some more to
me: 'O, Rea, I doan like for cook; I
want for it get maurry wit' some nice,
reech mans. You know some mans on
beeg ranch what like for maurry to
nice, good garrul? I bees lookin' out
the window this mornin'. I see pass
me by one mans. He bery fine lookin'
hombre. He wear it beeg moustache,
hee's sombrero ess half silfer, and
hee's spurs an' bridle it bees all work
in silfer an* hee's horse it is muy bo-
nita. I know he mus' be reech mans.
You know who it is, Rea ?' I is tell it
her that bees Sandy Hart; he is livin'
wit' brodder on beeg stock ranch. I
fout so mebbe he doan want for get
maurry. He is go for maurry wit' gar-
rul, but garrul she is die, an' he doan
like it no more garruls. 'Oh, Rea, you
go speak it wit' heem. You say I'm
bein' nice garrul an' I like for to get
maurry wit' heem.'

"So I go say to Sandy: 'You like it
for maurry good garrul?'

" 'What's matter wit' you, Rea, you
gone loco?' I tell heem queek, 'No! I

OVERLAND MONTHLY

doan want it for maurry wit' you. Gar-
rul in hotel she see you an' is ask it
me to tell you she is like for maurry
an' go lif ' on ranch wit' you/ 'Ha, ha,
rats; what do I know 'bout garrul?
Mebbe she bees some bad womans an*
mek it some fool me. You go back
tell her I doan want it for get maurry/
An' he laf an* laf an* mek much
ashame me.

"Nex' day garrul she is see Rich,
Sandy's brodder; he bees passin'. He
bees mucho viegas, mebbe ten year
ol'er as Sandy. Garrul come runnin',
'Oh, Rea, won't you go tell it for me, I
want for to maurry wit' heem ?' I tell
it to her, I doan like for to talk that
away to mens, for I bees ashame, me.
Mebbe I'm dark skin, but I doan have
to ask for no mens for maurry wif me.

"Then you tek littie paper for
note to ranchero I write it for heem?'
All right, I tek paper note for heem,
but won't say nottin'. 'Rea, if you do
that for me, an* I maurry it heem, I
gibe you five dollar an' sew it for you
some clothes all time, long as you lif.
I is go to ranchero an' hold 'em tight,
so, paper note in my han' for give to
Rich. Two mens comin' to door an'
say : 'Come in, Rea/ I doan know how
I do for give paper note to Rich so
Sandy he no see it me.

"By'm by I been lookin' out of win-
dow an' say to Sandy, 'How beeg your
peegs is growin'!' He is turn look out-
doors an'- say: 'Yes, we bees feedin'
'em heavy/ Then, queek, I put note
paper in Rich's han'. He is cover it
queek, so, an' Sandy he doan see.
Sandy, he is say to me : 'Come out an'
look at peegs how beeg they bees.
Rich, he is stay back for read what I
hap gipe to heem. When I am for go,
hee's comin' to me down by gate.
'You tell it her I'm 'fraid for to go see;

mebbe she bees sit up late talkin', an'
sleep heavy in mornin' an' lose places/
I tell it he, 'He doan know if he want
for come see you; mebbe you lose job/
'Oh, no; I get up early jus' same/ So
he is go for to see it her muchos times,
an' Sandy, he laf, 'Ha, ha!' all time
when he see hee's brodder go to hotel
for see garrul. 'Oh, Rea, mebbe you
go fetch me sisty-in-law after all. Ha,
ha!'

"One day she say: 'Rea, do you
know how for get priest? I'm tinkin'
mebbe we lak it for pries' for maurrie
to us. You tell heem to come?' So
pries' come an' maurrie, an' they go
livin' on ranchero an' she bees a beeg
lady now, wit' mucho seelk dress, an'
dimond an' fine beeg automobile, an'
she is goin' cross the beeg water, what
you call the place?' 'Ireland?' 'Si,
that's it, Irrlan', but she forget to gif
it me the five dollar, an' she bees too
fine lady for mek it me some dresses
now.

"Las' time I go there, they mek it
me stay for dinner. While we was
eatin', Sandy he is say it to me, soff
an' beggin' like, 'Rea, won't you go to
hotel an' see if you can fin* some nice
garrul for me ? Tell it her I want for
to get maurrie. You tell her I'm bein'
nice mans. I ain't no bad kin' o' mans/
He is mek it me feelin' so 'shamed an'
I keep lookin' down at my plate, so,
an' nobody never speak one word. Me,
I'm 'fraid for look up at Rich an' her, I
feel so sourry. But Sandy, he jus' set
back an' laf an' laf "Haw^ haw, haw/
But no matter ; she's beeg lady now an'
doan have for to pay 'tention to no-
body no more. An' me, I guess I
never see that five dollar she is prom-
ise it to me, for she bees queek forget
who's bein' good to her when she bees
a poor garrul, like me."

Aadame Curie and Radium

By R. J. Strutt

TWENTY or thirty years ago it
was the fashion to lay down
that certain branches of learn-
ing or research were within the
province and aptitude of women, while
others were not. Women, it was said,
may succeed in literature, in art, or in
historical study; but economics, math-
ematics, the natural sciences are not
within their scope.

It must probably be conceded that
there was some substratum of reason
in this classification. It certainly can-
not be denied that more instances can
be produced of the successful women
novelists, poets, painters, than of suc-
cessful women students of the sci-
ences. It is not easy to determine the
cause of this. Some would say that the
opportunity has been denied to women
of a fair start in the natural sciences.
No one can now expect to become a
discoverer who is not at any rate fair-
ly acquainted with the achievements
of those in whose footsteps he or she
must follow. But is this really the ob-
stacle? It appears pretty clearly
from the history of many of the great
discoverers that they were drawn by
irresistible attraction to the pursuits
they followed and careless of any
worldly obstacles. In many cases it
does not appear that they received any
encouragement from outside sources;
on the other hand, there can be no
doubt that within the last few decades
scientific work of the first importance
has been accomplished by women; and
this must surely be connected with
the fact that during the period men-
tioned scientific teaching and stimulus
has for the first time become easily
and generally accessible to them.

Beyond doubt, Madame Curie stands
foremost among the new race of sci-

entific women, and for this reason an
account of her career, such as we have
now the opportunity of reading, cannot
fail to be welcome. Mrs. Cunningham
has had the advantage of obtaining au-
thentic particulars of Madame Curie's
life from the best source that can be
imagined Madame Curie herself. We
learn of her parentage, her early sur-
roundings, her student life in Paris,
and the circumstances of Jier mar-
riage. On the purely scientific side
the book is less satisfactory, and it
may be doubted whether any very
clear conception of Madame Curie's
discoveries, and their scientific bear-
ing, could be gained from it. It will
perhaps be useful to attempt some re-
capitulation of them.

Passing over her earlier investiga-
tions on magnetism, we come to the
epoch of 1893, forever memorable for
Becquerel's discovery of spontaneous
emission by the rare metal uranium of
rays capable of affecting a photogra-
phic plate the discovery of radio-
activity. Madame Curie was one of
the first to cultivate the new field of
research. She found that another rare
metal, thorium, possessed similar pro-
perties. But the important clue which
led subsequently to such sensational
developments was that pitch-blende,
the naturally occurring crude oxide of
uranium, was found to be several
times more active than the amount of
uranium contained in it would have
led one to anticipate. This funda-
mental contribution to the subject was
made by Mme. Curie alone. The next
step was made by M. and Mme. Curie.
By submitting pitchblende to chemical
analysis that is, by separating it into
various metallic constituents (for
many metals besides uranium are con-

OVERLAND MONTHLY

tained in this ore) it was found that
a strongly radioactive substance chem-
ically similar to the metal bismuth was
present. This was called polonium, in
honor of Mme. Curie's native coun-
try. A further investigation, carried
out by M. and Mme. Curie, with M.
Bemont, showed that another radioac-
tive substance chemically similar to
barium was present in pitchblende.
To this the name radium was given,
long before it had been isolated in a
pure state.

The next step was to separate this
active substance in a pure state from
the barium with which it was mixed,
and this part of the work, due in the
main to Madame Curie,, was, in the
writer's opinion, by far the most for-
midable. The steps taken are fairly
intelligible to any one with an elemen-
tary knowledge of chemistry, but to
conclude from this that they were easy
to carry out would indeed be wide of
the mark. As well suppose a student
who had watched attentively the de-
tails of a bold and novel surgical op-
eration could plan out and execute it
like a great master of the surgical art.

The cost of the difficulty is the ex-
tremely small proportion in which ra-
dium exists in pitchblende. The quan-
tity is something like one part in three
million: thus the problem of extract-
ing it is very different indeed from that
of an ordinary chemical or metallurgi-
cal extraction when the product de-
sired forms a large fraction of the
whole quantity of material worked
upon.

In the early stages the difficulty for
an experimenter consisted in the large
bulk of material to be handled. It is
obviously useless to start with any-
thing short of a very large amount
when the ultimate product forms so
small a fraction of it. Very many tons
of pitchblende would be required to
yield an ounce of radium. Complex
and repeated chemical operations have
to be ^performed on this large bulk of
material, and it is gradually reduced in
amount Practically it is impossible
to carry out these early stages of the
work in a laboratory. The vessels

and other appliances are not on a suf-
ficiently large scale to get through the
work with a reasonable expenditure
of labor and time. Madame Curie
had therefore to go to a chemical fac-
tory to get this part of the work done ;
and it may be conjectured that the
difficulty of getting work like this, of
a difficult and tentative kind, organ-
ized in an establishment not under her
own management demanded no small
expenditure of nervous force. Finally,
however, the radium was in great part
extracted along with the chemically
kindred metal barium. The bulk of
material to be handled was now re-
duced to an easily manageable amount
and, so far, matters were easier, as
Madame Curie could work with her
own hands, and thus control the exact
procedure far more easily. But fur-
ther formidable difficulties remained
to be dealt with, the radium was still
only a very small fraction of the whole
quantity of material, and, what was
worse, the material with which it was
mixed barium was extremely diffi-
cult to separate from it. Radium and
barium are so like one another in their
chemical behavior that it is extremely
difficult to find any process which will
act selectively on one, leaving the
other untouched. In fact, the search
for a process which will completely ac-
complish this has failed, even up to
the present moment. It is necessary
to be content with the kind of process
called a fractional crystallization,
which separated the material into a
part richer and a part poorer in radium.
Each of these parts must be treated
again in the same way, and so on al-
most interminably. To avoid in-
definite multiplication of the samples,
it becomes necessary to devise a sys-
tematic scheme by which the worst
part of the better is mixed with the
better part of the worst. To go fur-
ther into this would take us too far,
but enough has been said to show how
formidable was the task of separating
pure radium. It is true that the pro-
cess has now been improved in detail,
so as to make it considerably less la-
borious. But in estimating the diffi-

TO THOSE AT HOME 53

culty and labor of Madame Curie's mutation, and that we are able to ac-

work, we must consider, not how it tually see in operation the process of

might have been done, but how it was which the alchemists sought in vain to

done. catch a glimpse. It is true that this

The results are widely known. The has not yet brought untold wealth to
wonderful properties of radium have Madame Curie or any one else ; but the
become a byword. These, indeed, are insight we have gained into the struc-
not different in kind from those pos- ture of atoms, and the behavior of
sessed by uranium, according to Bee- electricity in rapid motion, has given
querel's original discovery ; but they a rich intellectual reward to those cap-
are so incomparably more powerful as able of appreciating it in this genera-
to open up a new chapter of scientific tion. And it cannot be doubted that a
research, of which M. and Mme. Curie practical reward not less great will be
were pioneers. reaped by our descendants, even

The essential interest of radioactive though it is not possible yet to indi-

bodies (as we now know) is that they cate precisely how this will come

are undergoing a spontaneous trans- about.

TO THOSE AT HOME

What does it matter if prices are steep,

And you're spending so much that there's little to keep ?

If your hat is passe, and your shoes have been patched,

And the toes have been stubbed and the heels have been

scratched ?

What does it matter if flour's hard to buy?
There's bread made of bran and alfalfa and rye.
The soldiers have need of the best we can give,
Don't kick on the change in the way you must live.
Oh, shame on the one who would grumble and grunt
When life is far harder for those at the front.

What does it matter if plans are upset?
If vacations are dreams and the dream's all you get ?
If you can't take your outing then cancel your trip,
And rejoice that you're not on a war-fated ship.
What does it matter if work's on the double?
Your work is the least of the world's mighty trouble.
To live in indiff'rence is selfishness right,
And Uncle Sam pleads that you join in the fight.
You're staying at home, and you're missing the blunt
Of the blow that must fall on the boys at the front.

What does it matter? these trivial things-
Compare them with war and the horror it brings.
He who's at home to his flag is not true
Unless he will do all the things he can do;
Will sacrifice much to buy thrift stamps and bonds,
Thinking less of his eats and the things that he dons.
Then throw back your shoulders and toss up your head,
And don't be a shirk, be a fighter instead.
You're staying at home, but hark! there's a call,
And the call is for help to win freedom for all.

ELLA FLATT KELLER.

Ysabella

A Romance of Spanish California

(Continued From Last Month)

By Clarice Garland

Author of " Spanish California Mission," etc.
(Copyright by Author, All Rights Reserved)

CHAPTER XI.

The Clandestine Wedding at
Valparaiso.

YSABELLA paced the deck with
Captain Fitch, inhaling the in-
vigorating air until the roses
bloomed in her cheeks and the
sparkle returned to her eyes. The
captain taught her to speak English.
He read and translated into Spanish
the writings of the Anthology Club,
published in Boston, which he had
sent from his library in the Venture.

"Isabella, Queen of Spain, by her
noble and self-sacrificing action,
forged a link between her country and
America. And, Ysabella mia, may
form a link between the Spaniards and
the Americans," prophesied the cap-
tain, during his hour of teaching his
fiancee.

The eyes of the girl widened re-
flectively as she dreamily remarked:
"Perhaps we, too, shall help to make
history, even as did Queen Isabella,
although we are not sailing in the cara-
vels of Columbus."

"Thou art the queen of my heart,
an invisible kingdom, but none the
less powerful. Affection is the main-
spring of action in life in behalf of
the beloved, even if it is not recorded
in history," declared Captain Fitch.

To be happy! How many world-
weary pilgrims have sought in vain for
that divine goal of many a life's jour-
ney! Too often they found ashes in
their golden apples and bitterness in

their cup of joy. It is not given to
every one to taste the intoxication of
perfect happiness. To Captain Fitch
and Ysabella, life was young and hap-
piness was theirs.

"The genius of Washington Irving
created Rip Van Winkle, who awak-
ened after a slumber of twenty years
in the Katskill Mountains by curious
dwarfs. They were playing a game
of ninepins that sounded like distant
thunder/' continued the instructor.

"Did he?" asked Ysabella, her eyes
shining.

"It is a folk-lore story, but Irving
made it seem so real that I felt sorry
for Rip when he returned to his vil-
lage. No one, not even his scolding
wife, remembered him," explained the
expounder.

Ysabella laughed. "What else?"

"Irving was lord of the Hudson
River by the magic of his pen. Every
winding channel and airy glen he peo-
pled with his fancy. I will tell you of
the 'Headless Horseman* and 'Hand-
some Katrina' some day.

"There was Fennimore Cooper, who
wrote stories of the Indians entitled
The Last of the Mohicans/ " contin-
ued the instructor.

"Are there any Indians in your
country?" questioned the Spanish stu-
dent.

"The Indians have gone farther
west now. Their lands have been taken
up by settlers."

"I wonder that you became a sea
captain!" exclaimed Ysabella.

YSABELLA

"The call of the ocean was in my
blood, I suppose. Then it was neces-
sary in order to find you/' replied
Captain Fitch.

"You went sailing and sailing
around the world to find your other
half," exclaimed Ysabella, laughing.

"And I found her!"

"And I came with you! That is
the strangest part of it," continued
the Spanish student.

"Not so strange when we learn to
know Fate's mysteries."

"You have marked out enough study
to last through all the voyage/' she de-
clared.

"Is not this a pleasant floating col-
lege?"

"The best in the world."

"I want to show you my father's
and mother's likenesses/' continued
Captain Fitch, taking them from his
pocket.

"Your madre has a kind, motherly
face," declared Ysabella, examining
the picture. "I shall love her. Will
she love me?"

"My mother could not fail to love
you."

"You resemble your padre/' re-
marked Ysabella discriminatingly.

Onward the Vulture ploughed her
way through the swells of the Pacific
under tropic skies while the lovers
studied the stars, yet no study was so
interesting to them as searching each
other's eyes.

"Will you call at Lima, Captain
Barry?" inquired Fitch, seeking the
information that dove-tailed into his
plans.

"I think not," replied the shipmas-
ter. "It is my particular business to
see you two people married. And I
will not risk Lima. Russian and Eng-
lish vessels, sailing up and down the
coast, carry news quickly. Valparaiso
will be a safe place to land. It is be-
yond the regular line of coast traffic,"
replied Barry.

"All right! We can trust you to
take us out of a difficult place. I will
send a despatch at Lima to Mr. Hatch,
directing him to meet us at Valpa-
raiso."

"I will attend to that matter for you.
I do not wish my passengers to be dis-
cussed in Lima," declared Barry.

"Thanks!" returned Fitch. "I see
that we are in safe hands."

Down the long coast of South Amer-
ica the Vulture kept her course until
Captain Barry announced at dinner
that the Vulture would anchor in the
Bay of Valparaiso the next day.

"What will you wear for a wedding
gown, carisima? You left yours in
San Diego," inquired the prospective
bridegroom.

"No, your lordship trust a girl for
keeping her wedding tunic," responded
the bride-elect.

"But how "

"I sewed a tuck in my white silk
gown, and wore it under by blue cloth
gown with my pearls. Did you imag-
ine that I would leave them on shore ?"

"Bright nina! You deserve to have
them."

"If you people do not get married
this time it will not be my fault," de-
clared Captain Barry, laughingly.

Ysabella went on deck with Mrs.
Barry the next morning and clapped
her hands with delight. "Mountains!"
she exclaimed. "They are like the
Sierras at San Diego."

"Yes, dear," returned Mrs. Barry,
"and my husband says we shall an-
chor in a couple of hours. There is
the city of Valparaiso perched on the
hillside; it is a two-story town, one
story being on the hills and the other
on the narrow strip of shore below."

"How picturesque!"

The Vulture wound her way within
the sheltering curves of the hills into
the wide and deep harbor. Here ships
from all nations rode serenely at their
anchors. Lighters were busy loading
and small vessels were busy loading
and unloading larger craft on the calm,
blue waters. Stone warehouses stood
at the ends of the wharves. A dark
range of mountains followed the cres-
cent outline of the bay and mountain
spurs jutted from range to bay with
sides and summits crowded with
dwellings. These were reached by
stone stairways cut in the cliffs. In

OVERLAND MONTHLY

places the hills receded, leaving space
for the business streets.

Along one of these business streets
Senorita Ysabella Carrillo and Cap-
tain Fitch walked with Captain and
Mrs. Barry. They reached the cathe-
dral and entered. Mass was being
celebrated, and the voyagers joined
with the worshippers.

After mass the women of Valpa-
raiso left the church with their stools
and prayer books, their mantillas
wound tightly around their heads and
shoulders.

Curate Orrega stood at the altar and
the wedding party went forward. Cap-
tain Fitch explained his presence and
introduced his party to the priest. "I
wish to marry Senorita Ysabella Car-
rillo," informed Fitch briefly. "My
friends, Captain and Mrs. Barry, will
be the witnesses. Will you perform
the ceremony now?"

"Certainly, my son," replied the
priest.

"We have just landed from our ship.
Could we have the use of the vestry,
Reverend Padre?" inquired Ysabella.

"Certainly, Senorita. Enter that
door by the side of the altar," he di-
rected by a wave of his hand.

Ysabella disappeared with her com-
panion through the door. In the ves-
try she removed her rebozo and blue
cloth dress, and stood revealed in
smiling beauty clothed in heavy white
silk bordered with Spanish lace
flounces.

"I should be glad if I had my white
satin shoes," mused the bride-elect.
"Leather boots are not quite in keep-
ing with my white tunic."

"I brought mi*ne for you. They
may be too large," replied Mrs. Barry
thoughtfully.

"What a dear, good friend you are!
Yes, I can wear them."

"Something old and something new,
Something borrowed and something
blue,"

quoted Mrs. Barry, laughingly.

"Where is the blue?" asked Ysa-
bella.

"Here is a turquoise ornament for
your hair," replied Mrs. Barry, un-
clasping a little plush box.

"Exquisite!"

"This is a wedding gift from my
husband and myself. Let me fasten
it for you." And Mrs. Barry pinned
the gem set in a star-shaped frame of
brilliants on the white bandeau that
confined Ysabella's glossy black hair
just above her white forehead.
"There," she said, kissing her. "You
look like a queen."

"And you are my fairy godmother,"
murmured Ysabella gratefully, re-
turning the caress.

Mrs. Barry removed her dark trav-
eling cloak and shook out the folds of
her blue silk gown. "Come, dear,"
she suggested, "the bridegroom is
waiting." They entered the church,
where Captain Fitch advanced to meet
Ysabella and led her to the altar. His
eagle eyes rested with admiration and
tenderness on the young girl beside
him.

She was a picture for Murillo or
Velasquez. Her proud bearing and ex-
quisite grace were enhanced by the
brilliancy of her dark eyes, that spoke
the deep happiness of her soul. The
lights of the massive chandelier over
her head brought out the spirituality
shining from her beautiful face.

Father Orrega, arrayed in a white
brocade chasuble embroidered with
silver thread, began the marriage ser-
vice. Captain Richard Barry gave
away the bride. The marriage cove-
nant was spoken. Senorita Ysabella
Carrillo was now Dona Ysabella Car-
rillo de Fitch. A wedding march
sounded in the organ loft, played by a
detained chorister. The Contracting
couple and the witnesses signed their
names in the Parish Register.

"I congratulate you," offered Cap-
tain Barry, taking Captain Fitch cor-
dially by the hand. "However, I feel
like congratulating Mrs. Barry and
myself on bringing you safely to this
happy conclusion."

"A friend in need is a friend in-
deed," responded the bridegroom,
gratefully.

YSABELLA

"Dear girl," offered Mrs. Barry, "I
hope you will have the happiness that
you deserve. And no doubt you will
have it, now that your troubles are
over."

"We shall always remember you in
our prayers. Shall we not, Enrique?"
responded the bride.

"Captain and Mrs. Barry are our
friends forever. I would be only too
glad to return any favor in my power,"
replied Captain Fitch, earnestly.

Father Orrega advanced with a doc-
ument in his hand. "Sign this certifi-
cate, my children. I wish you a happy
life in each other's companionship un-
der the vows of the holy church."

Captain Fitch took the marriage
certificate so desperately obtained,
and after it was signed by the priest
and the witnesses, he placed the doc-
ument carefully in a waterproof case.
This he deposited securely in the in-
ner pocket of his coat; then the voy-
agers resumed their cloaks and took
leave of Father Orrega with his bless-
ing.

Leaving the cathedral, the wedding
party went into a Spanish cafe, where
Captain Fitch ordered a wedding din-
ner.

"By the way, your brig arrived this
morning," announced Barry to Fitch.
"Did you see her?"

"No. That is good luck. Ysabella's
turquoise wedding star has brought
luck for us. We will surprise Mr.
Hatch by going on board tonight," re-
plied the bridegroom.

With joyful hearts and smiling faces
the wedding party walked down the
street. A Spanish Chilean gave Fitch
and Barry a haughty stare, but his fea-
tures relaxed into a smile as he noted
the beautiful Spanish girl with them.

"A wedding," he muttered. "The
races are becoming unfortunately
mixed. Why will a pure-bred Span-
ish girl persist in marrying* a for-
eigner?"

The Vulture's boat took Captain
Fitch and his bride to the Venture's
side, where Captain Barry and wife
bade "Goodby" to the bride and
groom, and were rowed to the Vulture.

"I will send your sea-chest over to-
morrow," said Captain Barry.

The bride and groom waved their
hands to their friends and turned to
greet the mate of the Venture, who
warmly welcomed the master.

"Mr. Hatch, let me present you to
my wife," said Captain Fitch. "We
have a passenger for Boston."

Ysabella smiled sweetly.

" 'All is well that ends well,' " quot-
ed the mate, smilingly.

"Is everything all right on board the
Venture?" queried the master.

"O. K."

"The Venture looks shipshape," re-
marked Captain Fitch.

"The sailors have scrubbed, pol-
ished and put the brig in her best
trim in honor of this occasion," in-
formed the mate.

"Thanks," returned the master.

"The boys are all lined up in the
forecastle, with fresh white suits on,
ready to make their best bow to your
wife, sir," announced the mate.

"Call them on. deck," directed the
master.

The mate beckoned to the boatswain
who whistled up the sailors, and they
lunged on the upper deck in true sailor
fashion; their strong hands hanging
amidships; their tanned countenances
animated with pleased expectancy.
"A lady on board will be a 'sight for
sair e'en/" remarked the boatswain.

Ysabella smiled on the sailors.

"My eyes, Jack! She is a beauty.
I don't blame the captain for runnin'
away with her," said Sam Smith, the
steward, as the sailors descended to
the forecastle. "I would do the same,
if I had a vessel to carry her off in."

"You!" returned the boatswain con-
temptuously. "Do you think she would
go with you ?"

"Take a day off; visit Valparaiso
and send on provisions and water,"
directed Fitch to Mr. Hatch. "My
wife will mind the ship. She is first
mate now."

"Aye, aye, sir!" replied Mr. Hatch.
"You took the long voyage for good
reason."

"The best in the world," replied the

OVERLAND MONTHLY

master heartily. "Come below, cara
mia, and look at your new home". The
bride and groom went down the com-
panionway. "At last! My bride!"
and Captain Fitch took Ysabella in his
arms.

"My husband."

" 'Whom God hath joined together
let no man put asunder/ " quoted the
bridegroom with a tender kiss. "Mine
forever."

Ysabella clung to her husband
tremblingly. "I was afraid the church
door would open and some one would
rush in shouting: 'Stop, this ceremony
must not proceed!'" she whispered.

"No one has the right now, idola
mia. We belong to each other."

On the following evening Captain
Fitch and bride stood on deck enjoy-
ing the beautiful harbor view. A
brilliant moon lent to the city of Val-
paraiso an enchanted aspect; where
lights gleamed amid the foliage of the
tree-tops, slopes and beach. On the
bay the lights rose and fell with the
motion of the dark waters hundreds of
feet deep.

"Tomorrow we sail for home, cara
mia," informed the captain.

" 'Home, sweet home/ " quoted Ysa-
bella, remembering her English les-
sons. "I begin to think my home is
on the ocean waves. It might have
been worse," added the bride shud-
deringly, as she gave a fleeting thought
to the frowning governor of the Cali-
fornias. " Ours was no ceremonious
wedding/' she continued, thinking of
her sister Dolores' wedding. "We
were not attended by a large and dis-
tinguished company, arrayed in all the
magnificence of the highest society in
the Province of California. No tri-
umphal journey was ours, through my
own country, feted by the aristocracy
of the land and the wealth of the Mis-
sions."

"No/' assented Captain Fitch. "We
have elected our own course. And we
will follow it gladly, silently, without
clang of bells or acclamations of
friends. We shall sail together on the
high seas under the blue canopy of
God's sanctuary lighted by the vast

candelabra of the midnight stars."

The next morning the Venture stood
out of the Bay of Valparaiso into the
broad Pacific. She turned her prow
southward, carrying the run-away
married lovers.

CHAPTER XII.

The Anger of Parents and Governor.

"Where is Ysabella?" asked Dona
Ignacia Carrillo of her daughter, Beni-
cia, as the girl entered her home after
vespers.

"Ysabella ! Is she not here?" asked
the puzzled girl. "She walked out of
chapel with cousin Pio. I walked with
Estef ana and expected to find Ysabella
here."

"Pio walked with her, no doubt,"
agreed Dona Ignacia, "yet you should
not have left her." Benicia was too
well trained in obedience to argue
with her mother.

Don Joaquin Carrillo entered the
sala and looked around questioningly.
"Did Ysabella return from the church
with you, Benicia?''

"Cousin Pio walked with Ysabella
and I walked with Estefana," replied
the daughter.

"Ysabella should be here. I will go
and meet her," said her father, uneas-
ily. He walked slowly a retired sol-
dier, he lived at his ease. He reached
Pico House, peering forward in the
darkness of the evening and entered.
"Where is Pio?" he inquired of Dona
Eustaquia, looking sharply around the
sala.

"Pio has not returned from vespers.
Doubtless he is playing a game of
monte with Lieutenant Carrillo," re-
plied Dona Eustaquia.

"I will walk to the Presidio/' in-
formed Don Joaquin, heaving a sigh at
the prospect of climbing the hill.
"Buenos noches, Dona Eustaquia," he
saluted.

"Buenas noches," returned the se-
nora. "Why is he so anxious about
Pio?"

Don Joaquin climbed Presidio Hill
with misgivings in his heart. He did
not utter them to Dona Eustaquia. He

YSABELLA

was too proud to make his daughter
the subject of invidious remark to
any one outside his own family. He
went to the lieutenant's quarters and
entered.

Don Pio Pico sat at a table with
Lieutenant Domingo Carrillo playing
a game of cards.

Don Joaquin could contain his anx-
iety no longer. "Where is Ysabella?"

Don Pio looked up innocently. The
lieutenant glanced at his relative with
an expression of startled surprise.

"Did you expect to find Ysabella
here, uncle?" inquired Pio Pico.

"Benicia told me that you walked
with Ysabella after vespers/' ex-
plained Don Joaquin, anxiety over-
coming observation of his nephew's
flippant speech.

"I stopped to tie my botas, and
when I looked around, Ysabella had
disappeared," parried Don Pio Pico.

"Disappeared!" and Don Joaquin
started up in astonishment.

"I heard a sound of hoof beats on the
road leading to the bay. La Mancha
caught up his Dulcinea and rode off
with her," suggested Pico, deciding to
enlighten his uncle without betraying
himself.

"What do you mean, Pio?"

"I know not/' answered the young
man. I sometimes mistrust my brain
is clouded with unrequited affection."

"Clouded with too much wine and
monte, young man!" roared Don Joa-
quin furiously. "Captain Fitch sailed
around Point Loma this afternoon. I
saw the brig."

"Did you mix up the Americano
with the noble knight, La Mancha?"
questioned the young Spaniard.

"No!" declared Don Joaquin. "Am-
ericanos! I am tired of them. Come
and help me to find Ysabella, or the
governor will have you put in the
stocks!" shouted the elder man, be-
side himself with wrath.

"I fear not the governor; but I will
help you to find my cousin if possi-
ble," and the young man shrugged his
shoulders. Then, donning his som-
brero, he reluctantly followed his un-
cle from the Presidio.

Lieutenant Carrillo paced the floor
absorbed in thought regarding this
unlocked for situation in the disap-
pearance of his niece.

Down the hill stormed Don Joaquin,
uttering Spanish oaths with amazing
rapidity and vehemence, driven out of
all patience by his nephew's trifling
persiflage.

"Let us return to your home," sug-
gested Pico. "Perhaps Ysabella was
delayed. And she is already at
home." The perturbed old gentleman
caught at the hope and retraced his
steps to Carrillo House.

"Is Ysabella at home?" asked her
father, entering the house close be-
hind his nephew.

Dona Ignacia lifted her black brows
and looked at her husband incredu-
lously. "Why, I thought you would
bring her back with you," and the
startled mother arose.

"I did not find her," replied the
father wearily, dropping into a mis-
sion chair and mopping his perspiring
brow.

"Not find her! Holy Virgin! Where
can she be? Pio Pico, where is my
daughter? You saw her last."

"I stopped to tie my botas, as I told
uncle," explained Don Pio, "and when
I looked around, Ysabella had disap-
peared. I thought she ran home and
went to the Presidio to play a game
of monte with Lieutenant Carrillo."

"Diablo! Find her!" muttered
Don Joaquin heavily.

"She has gone!" shrieked the
mother with sudden conviction. "Ysa-
bella has run away," she^ gasped,
placing her hand on her laboring heart.
"How did she get to the harbor?"

"There are plenty of horses in the
corral, if she was determined to go,"
answered Pico.

"Pio Pico, go after her; go quickly,"
commanded Dona Ignacia.

"It is too late, aunt," replied her
nephew. "If she went with Captain
Fitch, a swift gallop and a stiff breeze
have taken her beyond my reach."

"Mother of God! My daughter ran
off unmarried, the saints forbid!" ex-
claimed Dona Ignacia wildly.
Jy-5

OVERLAND MONTHLY

"What is the matter, madre?" in-
quired Benicia entering.

"Matter, child!" shrieked the
mother. "Leave the room, before I
cut off your hair in disgrace. You
allowed Ysabella to run away with the
Americano. Why were you not more
watchful?"

Benicia fled. Well she knew the
anger of her mother in case of dis-
obedience; but the disgrace of an
elopement without the marriage sac-
rament was more than she could en-
dure with calmness.

"Oh," shuddered Benicia, "why did
she do it? How could I prevent it, if
she meant to go? I know Ysabella's
determination. Nothing wouljd stop
her. She was too much in love with
Captain Fitch. Ugh!"

"I might as well go home," sug-
gested Pio Pico.

"Yes, go! You are all a pack of
helpless idiots," replied the infuriated
mother. "If Ysabella were here now.
she would feel my wrath; if she is
nineteen years old. Red welts on her
shameless shoulders would be not too
bad a punishment for such disgrace!"
and Dona Ignacia went to the wall and
shook out the coils of a horsehair riata
threateningly.

Pio Pico shuddered and left the
house abruptly. "Cielo!" he muttered.
"I am glad Ysabella is on the ship."

CHAPTER XIII.
Two Years Later

Governor Echandia Orders the Arrest
of Captain Fitch.

At early dawn a rosy light began to
steal over the summits of the Sierras,
then slowly crept down the sides of
the mountains. Soon the Presidio and
pueblo were bathed in the glow of
the morning. A thin blue haze as-
scended from the canyons. Curling
fog wraiths melted into the soft blue
sky, and the air was laden with the
sweet odors of sage and chaparral.

The light played on the blue waters
of the bay and glanced on the white
sails of the Venture as she rounded
Point Loma.

"Home again!" exclaimed Ysabella,
as she stood on deck by her husband's
side watching with eager eyes her
native shore.

"I trust your home welcome will be
bright and warm," remarked Captain
Fitch.

"I cannot think otherwise."

A cannon shot sounded from the
Venture's side. This was the signal
to send horses to the shore. An an-
chor was dropped, the boat lowered
and the master with his family de-
scended the rope ladder and seated
themselves. Two sailors pulled to
the sandy shore. Captain Fitch
stepped out with his child on his arm
and assisted his wife to land.

In a short time a vaquero appeared
riding from the pueblo leading two
saddled horses. The master assisted
his wife to one horse, and mounting
the other animal, they rode to town.

At the plaza Ysabella pulled up
her horse and looked eagerly around
her. "This dear old pueblo seems just
the same as when we left it!" she ex-
claimed. "Yet the low, wide adobe
houses of San Diego, save Don Juan
Bandini's villa, appear somewhat dif-
ferent from the tall, imposing man-
sions of Boston."

"Yes, cara mia," replied Fitch.
"San Diego, the Plymouth -of the
West, has plenty of space to grow."

"Just think, Enrique!" exclaimed
Ysabella again, "there, under that pep-
per tree, was where Cousin Pio Pico's
horse stood waiting for me to make
my wild dash for happiness."

"That was a wild dash," replied the
captain. "I trembled both for you and
me. The lion's claws then were far-
reaching and terrible!"

"This is our special Thanksgiving
Day," declared Ysabella. "Let us
give thanks for being delivered from
the claws of the king of beasts."

"We certainly will give thanks to
God on this, our special Thanksgiv-
ing Day," replied Fitch.

"There is another reason for my be-
ing specially thankful."

"What is it?"

"I am so very thankful that I avoid-

YSABELLA

ed going with the lion to Mexico when
his term of office expired in Califor-
nia/' laughed Ysabella.

"That is another important reason
for a special thanksgiving day. I will
draw up a set of ' resolutions for our
special day of thanksgiving. Mean-
time you ride over to your home/' he
advised. "I will stop at the Customs
House and announce the arrival of
my cargo for inspection."

"Come as soon as you can to us."
She took her child from his father's
arms and rode to Casa de Carrillo.

"Buenos dias, Pablo!" she called,
happily, to an Indian attendant carry-
ing a water bucket.

Pablo dropped his bucket in aston-
ishment and grasped the bridle reins
of her horse. "Senorita Ysabelle!" he
exclaimed in a delighted tone of voice.
"I am glad!"

Ysabella smilingly alighted from her
horse and entered her childhood home.
The family had left the breakfast
table. "Madre mia," breathed Ysa-
bella, softly; "are you glad to see
me?"

"Madre de Dios!" exclaimed the
startled senora. "Ysabella, where did
you come from?" asked Dona Ignacia,
stiffening in every fibre of her body.

"I came from my husband's ship,"
replied Ysabella, her face paling.

"Holy Virgin! Your husband!" ex-
claimed the senora fiercely. "How do
I know that you have a husband ? You
left your home secretly, disobediently.
You dared not ask permission of your
parents when you went."

"El Diablo! What have you there?"
demanded Don Joaquin sternly.

"My son," replied Ysabella, proudly.

"Did you receive the marriage sac-
rament before he was born?" asked
the father. "Has he been baptized in
the holy church?" he catechized in a
commanding tone.

Ysabella sank into a chair, over-
powered by the coldness of her recep-
tion. Little Henry cooed in a soft,
baby voice, and threw up his plump
arms to his mother. Ysabella clasped
him tenderly to her breast and rose
from the chair.

"Padre and madre, you misjudge
me. I was forced to leave home with-
out your permission, or make a hated
marriage with a man whom I disliked.
I chose the only alternative. Enrique
has our marriage certificate which he
will show to you. I will return to our
ship," she declared, pride of race lend-
ing haughtiness to her manner as she
moved toward the door.

"I know nothing of your marriage
certificate," declared Don Joaquin.

"Go!" commanded the mother,
sternly, "before I use my riata on your
disobedient shoulders," and Dona Ig-
nacia reached for a horsehair whip.

"Or I report you to the alcalde, who
will order you to sweep the streets ot
San Diego as a mark of your dis-
grace," threatened the father.

"Holy Virgin!" cried Ysabella, flee-
ing from the house. "My boy! My lit-
tle Enrique. They shall not punish
you." She walked quickly down the
street, blinded by the storm of her
emotions.

Captain Fitch, riding swiftly along
the street toward Casa de Carrillo,
pulled up his horse suddenly. "What
is the trouble, Ysabella?" he asked in
alarm.

"Oh, Enrique! Take me to the Ven-
ture."

"What! Are your people angry with
you?"

"Padre and madre are more than
angry. They threaten disgrace," re-
plied the daughter.

"Disgrace ? Impossible ! They
dare not disgrace you. I have the proof
of our marriage!" exclaimed the hus-
band. Captain Fitch dismounted and
assisted his wife to the saddle, gave
her the child, mounted behind her
and turned his horse toward the har-
bor. "A floating home is not a bad
one, is it, carisima?"

"The best I know, excepting Mother
Fitch's home," responded Ysabella,
with rising pride.

"Do you wish you had remained
with her?" pursued the husband.

"Yes, and no. I wish to live always
at your side, Enrique," replied the
wife.

OVERLAND MONTHLY

The shipmaster tenderly pressed
his wife's arm. "Not every man is
blessed with such a devoted wife," he
confided.

They boarded the Venture and wait-
ed for the inspector of cargoes to fin-
ish his business; then the master paid
his dues and ordered the anchor
hoisted.

"The collector informed me that
Governor Echandia is still in San
Diego, dear," announced Captain Fitch
to his wife.

"Oh, Enrique! Let us go away at
once," begged Ysabella.

"We will go ; but I think he will not
dare to trouble us at the other ports "

"I hope not."

"I must make another profit of forty
thousand dollars on this voyage. Mr.
Welles expects it. We have done
nothing criminal. The governor should
not molest us. I expected he would
be at Monterey, handing over his offi-
cial job to his successor long before
this time.

Ysabella said nothing to discourage
her husband; but she felt her heart
sink.

"We will sail to San Pedro imme-
diately/' directed the master to Mr.
Hatch. The surprised mate ordered
the sails unfurled, and the Venture
turned her bow around Point Loma to-
ward the north.

"By all that is holy, Captain Fitch
shall be reported!" exclaimed Don
Joaquin, and, placing his sombrero
firmly on his head, he started for the
Presidio.

Governor Echandia sat in his office
as Don Joaquin entered and greeted
the official. "I have heard from the
Venture," he announced abruptly.

"Where is she?" asked the Gov-
ernor, briefly.

"She is in the harbor," replied the
don. "Ysabella came to us this morn-
ing with a young child."

"El diablo!" muttered the governor.
"The Americano has assurance to come
here again. I will make San Diego an
uncomfortable place for him to visit."

"They have gone," reported Don
Joaquin.

"I will send an order for the arrest
of Captain Fitch to every port in Cali-
fornia for violating the law," declared
the governor, vindictively.

"It is well. Disobedience to law and
order should be punished," asserted
Don Joaquin, as he walked out.

Governor Echandia seized a quill
and rapidly wrote an order to arrest
Captain Fitch and separate him from
Dona Ysabella. "Write copies of this
order and send to every port in Cali-
fornia." commanded the Governor to
Secretary Zamorano.

To he continued.

An Episode in the Pioneer Life of
San Francisco

THE changes by land and sea
wrought by the hand of man in
the physical features of the site
of San Francisco have been
truly amazing, but the most striking
and the most complete are those which
have taken place on and beyond the
shore line of the city front along the
bay. On land hills have been lowered
and removed, or set back from the
waters' edge, hollows and depressions
have been filled in and leveled, streams
have been turned from their courses or
obliterated with the minor inlets into
which they flowed, but along the city
front from historic Telegraph Hill to
the bold outline of Cerro del Rincon,
or Rincon Hill, the original shore line
has entirely disappeared, and beyond
it dry land has arisen where formerly
the waters of the bay ebbed and flowed
with the great tides of the ocean.

Those tremendous topographical
changes were not entirely optional with
the early settlers. The choice of the
site was not fortuitous : it was deliber-
ate and made with good and sufficient
reason, but the place thus selected had
its drawbacks, and they were not a few
nor inconsiderable. Many persons
may have thought that there were
other places around the bay quite as
suitable, or even more suitable, for the
town than where it was put, but the
spot was chosen because ships found
the part of the bay directly in front of
it the most accessible, convenient and
sheltered place to anchor in order to
land their passengers and to discharge
their freight. Don Juan Robinson who,
like Thomas 0. Larkin and William D.
M. Howard, was one of the very early
Americans to settle in Yerba Buena or
San Francisco, and who is mentioned
in an amusing, though not in a very

dignified way in Dana's "Two Years
Before the Mast," used to say in later
life that as he was the local represen-
tative and agent of the Pacific Mail
when the company first began to send
its steamers to San Francisco he could
have despatched the ships to any point
around the bay that he thought best,
and the town would have grown up in
that immediate neighborhood. But he
wisely never attempted to send them
anywhere but to the sheltered cove
between Telegraph Hill and Rincon
Hill near the Golden Gate, and it is
safe to say that, if the attempt to send
them elsewhere had been made the
company would have lost no time in
signifying its unwillingness to add
anything to the length of the voyage of
its ships or to the expense of their dis-
charge. And even if the countermand-
ing orders of the company had been
somewhat delayed the protesting voice
of the passengers on the ships would
have been instant, vigorous and effec-
tive. They had taken passage for San
Francisco, and not for some point on
the Bay of San Francisco, and any one
who recalls the really fierce eagerness
of the early comers to get ashore and
be off to the mines will have no diffi-
culty in believing that if any attempt
had been made to travel them around
the bay instead of making the nearest
and most convenient landing there
would have been turmoil on board ship.
The situation of San Francisco in
the Coast Range by the Golden Gate,
where it breaks through and unites the
broad Pacific with the great inland bay
is picturesque and beautiful, but it did
not offer at the outset much level
ground for the business districts of a
great metropolitan city. On all sides
were hills and hill tops admirably

OVERLAND MONTHLY

adapted for residences, but not well
suited or convenient for business pur-
poses. The only level space was be-
tween Telegraph and Rincon Hills
on the north and south, and the shore
line of the bay and California street
hill on the east and west. There was
another reasonably level space be-
tween Telegraph Hill and Russian Hill
extending out to North Beach, but it
was somewhat remote, according to the
ideas of those days, and some gentle
climbing had to be done to reach it.
The level space available for business
was increased later, though still at an
early period, by the grading and open-
ing of Market street and the opening
up of the rather limited stretches of
level ground to the north of that great
thoroughfare, and the more extensive
ones to the south and southeast of it.
San Francisco was thus given all the
level space it needed, but the pioneers
had to make it for themselves with
the assistance of the steam paddy. It
could not be expected that nature
would provide it among the crests of
a mountain range. Geologists have
sometimes told us that the islands of
the Aegean sea between Greece and
Asia Minor are mountains up to their
knees in water, that at some remote
geological era the solid crust of the
earth of what was a great mountainous
region like the Switzerland of our day
subsided and sunk down below the
level of the sea, and that the waters
submerged the region and surrounded
the mountains, leaving of them above
water only what is now the islands. In
the same way, there is geological evi-
dence for the belief that the Coast
Range of California countless eons
ago, sunk down in the region of the
Golden Gate together with the adjacent
lower ground to the east, the waters of
the ocean came in through the gap in
the mountains which we now know as
the Golden Gate, covered the low-
lying sunken ground and made the bay
of San Francisco, leaving only uncov-
ered here and there an island, like An-
gel, Alcatraz and Yerba Buena Islands,
to show where the land had been.
One of the first, if not the first, great

problem that the pioneers had to meet
was how to make the harbor conven-
ient as well as secure for the shipping
coming to the port. Vessels after
passing through the Golden Gate
turned south past Telegraph Hill, and
found secure and sheltered anchorage
off the town front, but they were
obliged to anchor at some distance
from the shore, as the mud flats along
the shore line of the cove between
Telegraph Hill and Rincon Hill ex-
tended out and made the water too
shallow for the nearer approach of sea
going craft. The disposition to extend
the area available for business and the
desire to provide accommodations for
the shipping in the harbor led to
prompt encroachments on the flats,
and the two projects became closely
associated. The difficulties in the way
of those enterprises were not alto-
gether physical, though the physical
difficulties were great. Material was
scarce and labor was even scarcer, and
they were both dear. There was little
capital or accumulated wealth in the
community, and even later, during the
first ten or twelve years of the city's
life, a man worth fifty thousand dol-
lars had few peers as a moneyed man
in San Francisco. The amount of
coined money or of any kind of legal
currency was extremely limited, al-
though after the discovery of gold by
Marshall, gold dust was used as cur-
rency, and at a great public meeting
held in San Francisco on the 9th of
September, 1848, local authority was
given for its use in a resolution to the
effect that it should pass as currency,
and it was determined at the same time
that sixteen dollars an ounce was a
fair value for the gold dust, and that
it should be taken at that rate in all
business transactions until the United
States government could establish a
mint in San Francisco, which, even at
that early date, was urgently solicited.
But the difficulties arising from the
scarcity of material, of labor and of
capital were not the only ones, the
main difficulty in the way of wharf
building was to secure a title which
would give the builder a reasonable

EPISODE IN THE PIONEER LIFE OF SAN FRANCISCO

assurance that he would be able to
retain possession of his wharf after
he had built it. Under the coloniza-
tion laws of Spain and Mexico, the al-
calde of a properly constituted pueblo
had authority to sell town lots under
certain conditions to actual settlers
within the surveyed limits of the pue-
blo, and the alcaldes of the pueblo of
San Francisco exercised that power,
but they had no right to sell lots be-
yond the shore line, and the alcaldes
of San Francisco were specifically pro-
hibited by the Mexican governor, Fi-
gueroa, from selling town lots within
two hundred varas, about a hundred
and eighty-five yards, from the bay
shore. But General Kearney, the
American military governor of Cali-
fornia, revoked the order of Figueroa,
and in 1847 gave authority to the cor-
porate officials of San Francisco to
sell the beach and water lots on
the east side of the town between the
points known as the Rincon and Fort
Montgomery in the manner and on the
conditions prescribed in the decree.
The sale of beach and water lots under
General Kearney's decree of convey-
ance to the corporate body of San
Francisco took place the 20th of July,
1848, and was the most important oc-
currence in the history of the town
down to that time. The notice of the
sale published by Edwin Bryant, who
was alcalde at that time, when there
was nothing in the outward appearance
of San Francisco to mark it as the fu-
ture seat of a great metropolis, con-
tains these memorable and prophetic
words: "The site of the town of San
Francisco is known to all navigators
and mercantile men acquainted with
the subject, to be the most command-
ing commercial position on the entire
Eastern coast of the Pacific Ocean,
and the town itself is, no doubt, des-
tined to become the commercial em-
porium of the Western side of the
American continent." Bryant's mem-
ory in San Francisco is perpetuated by
the street which bears his name, but
few people probably in the city today
know the street was named after the
prophetic seej of the city's greatness.

The sale of the beach and water lots
was followed by increased activity in
the effort to provide accommodations
for the shipping in the harbor. Quite
extensive warehouses for those times
were built on some of the lots, and
construction was begun on two
wharves in 1848, though not much
progress was made until the following
year. But by October, 1850, there
were twelve wharves along the water
front. One of them was built by an
association, but the others were built
by individuals, who were willing to
take the risk of an insecure title for the
sake of large immediate returns.
Marye had acquired title to the lots
at the foot of Sacramento street, and
exercising the right of the owner of
land bordering on navigable waters
to provide accommodation for ship-
ping, he built the Sacramento street
wharf from his property, eight hun-
dred feet out into the bay. The piles
and the lumber for the wharf were
brought from the Columbia river, and
Marye laid in a larger supply than
he needed, for when the wharf was fin-
ished he had some lumber and material
left over, and he loaded it all on a
schooner and sent it up to Stockton,
where, on Mormon Slough, he built the
first wharf of that city.

After he had built the Sacramento
street wharf, he sold a half interest
in it to Dr. Charles M. Hitchcock, of
the Medical Department of the United
States army, who had resigned from
the service to settle permanently in
San Francisco. The Sacramento street
wharf proved a very profitable piece
of property, the monthly returns reach-
ing thirty-six hundred dollars, and in
the autumn of 1852 Marye and Hitch-
cock and the owners of the Clay street
wharf, the next on the north, peti-
tioned the Common Council of the
city to dedicate the space between the
two wharves to the public use as a free
public dock for ships. On the 4th of
November, 1852, the Common Coun-
cil did pass an ordinance to the effect
that the space of land and water be-
tween Clay and Sacramento streets
and Davis street and deep water

OVERLAND MONTHLY

should be, and thereby was so dedi-
cated, but the ordinance also contained
a proviso that nothing therein should
prevent, or impair in any way,, the
power of the Common Council to an-
nul the grant or dedication made by it.
That left the situation much as it was
before.

The city's title to all the spaces be-
tween the wharves on the water front
including the City Slip property be-
tween the Clay and Sacramento streets
wharves, was established by the act of
the State Legislature, approved March
26, 1851, and not much more than a
year after the passage of the ordinance
of November 4, 1852; the Common
Council passed another ordinance on
the 5th of December, 1853, providing
for the sale of the City Slip property
dedicated by the earlier ordinance to
public use, and that ordinance of De-
cember 5, 1853, vied with the Peter
Smith sales as the most fruitful source
of litigation in San Francisco's his-
tory.

The validity of the ordinance au-
thorizing the sale was questioned at
the time of its passage because, it was
said, it did not receive the requisite
number of votes in the Board of As-
sistant Aldermen, and Marye was dis-
posed to bring suit to enjoin the sale
on that ground. But his partner, Dr.
Hitchcock, did not think it worth while
to spend money in litigation which at
best could only mean the postpone-
ment of the sale.

Marye pointed out that the income
from the wharf would more than pay
the expenses of litigation, but no suit
was brought, and after the ordinance
had received the approval of the
Mayor, C. K. Garrison, the sale took
place. It was conducted by Selover &
Sinton, the leading real estate auction-
eers of that time, and was a great suc-
cess, the lots selling readily and bring-
ing high prices. The sale, of course,
sealed the doom of the wharf property
on both sides of the slip, as the pur-
chasers began at once to fill in their
lots, or in most instances to pile them,
for building. All the first houses
built out into the bay over the flats

were of wood, and it is a curious fact
that in the space thus built over be-
tween the original shore line and the
deep water on the bay, the tides
ebbed and flowed under most of the
streets and houses until the sea wall
was built by the Harbor Commission-
ers in the Ws, from a point south of
Market street to North Beach along
the line of the city front as finally and
permanently established by the State
Legislature.

Some time after the sale of the City
Slip property, the purchasers became
dissatisfied with their purchases. They
found that they could not get an in-
come from the property they had ac-
quired commensurate with the prices
they had paid, and they were well
pleased when in the early months of
1855 they were advised by John B.
Felton, who was then at the beginning
of the illustrious career which made
him afterwards one of the greatest
lawyers of California and of the en-
tire country, that the sales could be
annulled and the money paid to the
city recovered back. Felton raised
the point which Marye had wanted to
make the ground of his injunction suit,
and the litigation instituted by him on
behalf of the purchasers was success-
ful in a long line of decisions which
did not always seem to be consistent
with one another, but which were
unanimous in holding that the vote
of the Board of Assistant Aldermen
was not sufficient to support the ordi-
nance authorizing the sale.

If Marye had brought his injunc-
tion suit he would have saved the city
a good deal of money, but he would
not have saved his wharf property, for
the lots thrown back on the hands of
the city, owing to the irregularity of
the ordinance of sale were, by a sub-
sequent ordinance .regularly [passed,'
ordered sold again with other prop-
erty, and at that later sale, Marye
became the largest purchaser, and
William Sharon, who was afterwards
so successful on the Comstock, and
who through his success in Nevada
became so prominent in San Francisco,
was the second largest.

The Bonnie Doon Ranch

By A\rs. R. A. Ellis

Helen V. Crawford, Lebanon, Oregon, owner
of the Bonnie Doon orchards.

THE earnings of a teacher went
into the Bonnie Doon ranch.
Nothing out of the ordinary in
this, you say. Well, but the
earnings of a "school-marm." Nor
anything unusual in that, you retort,
since the Bonnie Doon orchards are on
the Pacific Slope, which is pre-emi-
nently the land of Woman's opportu-
nity.

Miss Helen V. Crawford, the Wal-
nut Lady of the Santiam, voices her
own appreciation of Oregon 'more con-
vincingly than another can phrase it
for her. When urged to consent to an
interview, for the reason that she has
become widely known as a horticultur-
ist, not only through the length and
breadth of the Willamette Valley, but
throughout the entire State, she an-
swered, protestingly :

"Oh, but the credit does not really
belong to me. I freely grant it to my

good father and mother, who left their
Southern homes, Virginia and Ken-
tucky, in the early years of their mar-
ried life, coming to this region in 1852.
So the good fortune came to me, their
eleventh and last child, to be born in
wonderful Oregon."

"You are a Western enthusiast?" the
interrogator ventured.

"Can you look on all this beauty and
prosperity, yet wonder at my enthusi-
asm?" she countered. "Can you not
understand why I so love my home and
the work of it why I am thus thank-
ful to have been born in this land of
opportunity, where God has done so
much, and where women have great
freedom in every line of endeavor? I
assure you I am no marvel and no ex-
ception in our glorious West. Thou-
sands of women are doing such work,
and feel about as I do about it. And
still there is room for countless others."

"Still," she was interrupted, "you
must not be surprised, Miss Crawford,
if some people insist on giving you not
only 'credit/ but admiration for Bon-
nie Doon and its success."

The pleasant Scotch face crinkled
into a sudden irresistible smile.

"Hoot, mem!" she laughed. "If if s
credit you insist on, Fll never refuse it
for the good judgment I exhibited in
my choice of a location for my or-
chard. Because, you see, I was 'only
a school-marm,' and the ilk is supposed
to be crochety and impractical to a de-
gree. Yet see, I selected the best
soil in the most productive valley in
the finest State in the world. With
such a start, how could a woman fail ?"

Little more than half a dozen years
ago Miss Crawford was head of the de-
partment of elocution in the Oregon
Agricultural College, a position which

Jy-6

OVERLAND MONTHLY

she had most acceptably filled for over
a decade.

But Helen Crawford loved the "good
green earth and its growing things/'
even as her forebears had loved them ;
and for some reason, perhaps also an-
cestral, she yearned especially towards
horticulture.

So she saved her earnings, and in
between teaching, she took a student
course in the college's department of
Horticulture.

Finally, when the time was ripe, she
bought thirty acres of land near Le-
banon, on the Santiam river, a part of
the wide-extended and splendidly fer-
tile Willamette Valley. A substan-
tially built hop-house went with the
land, and this the new ranch-woman
promptly converted into a comfortable
and attractive home, thus speedily and
at moderate cost being able to set up
house-keeping.

And in this new life has she realized
her dreams and ideals? None who
visit the mistress of Bonnie Doon, as
she named the place in honor of old
Scotia and her grandsires, can for an
instant doubt that here is a dream ful-
filled.

"It was in 1909," Miss Crawford
narrates, "that I began my orchards,
planting sixteen acres to English wal-
nuts, of the Franquette variety, grafted
trees. Walnuts are my hobby, you must
know, my pet ambition and chief aim."

She broke off, smiling archly, then
asked :

"You are familiar with our slogan at
this season:

' 'The whole world knows
The Oregon rose!'

)

"Well, it is my ambition to make the
whole world know also the Oregon
walnut/'

"But you have become rather famed
for peaches, Miss Crawford?" the vis-
itor interrupted.

"Yes," she said. "So far I have ad-
vertised peaches. Bonnie Doon was
rather exploited last year because I
had to have special-sized boxes for
my big, delicious, bloomy-cheeked

fruit. But, you should understand, I
planted my 14 acres of peaches with
some pears and apples only to sup-
port my walnuts and myself during the
years until the Franquettes should
come into bearing. Three years ago
the peach yield was 500 bushels, the
next season 1,000. This year the pro-
mise is splendid. With a market at my
door for, you see, I am in the envir-
ons of Lebanon and the average price
$1.25 per bushel, the profit from the
peach orchards shows up finely. I
have several varieties, all ripening at
different times, which simplifies the
labor as well as the market problem."

"Yet with profits like that," the in-
terviewer questioned, "you are still
wedded to walnuts?"

"Yes!" was the unhesitating reply.
"It is walnuts that I shall specialize in,
walnuts that I would advise others to
grow in Oregon. Peaches do very well,
make good fillers, and temporary sup-
port. But they require especial care
and attention, are short lived, and have
many uncertainties, vagaries. So has
the peach market. The walnut market
is steady, will always be strong, as the
United States has to import nuts. Ore-
gon walnuts bring top of market prices
ranging from 12 l / 2 cents for ordinary
grades to 35 cents for fancy. Then, the
low cost of care of the orchard after it
is established, at four or five years, the
low cost of harvesting and drying, as
compared with other fruit, also the
low proportionate cost of transporta-
tion."

"But there is a long waiting for har-
vests to begin?" the questioner de-
murred.

"My Franquettes were bearing free-
ly at six years," she rejoined with
pride. "I sent some very fine speci-
mens to the Panama Exposition. And
behold my promise of a superb com-
mercial crop next season. It will take
but a little while now for them to
reach the mark of 30 pounds per tree,
a production which will be doubled at
13 or 14 years. This is the most con-
servative estimate. Let me add that
no inconsiderable part of the pleasure
I feel in contemplating my beautiful

The "Larkspur" cabin, Hood River, Oregon, home of Mrs. MacRae, who a few years ago
bought "Larkspur" in the rough for $750 in installments. The property could not be touched
for $25,000 now.

orchard is in the reflection that, long
after I pass from this earth, my walnut
grove will be a blessing to mankind.
For walnut trees live and bear bounte-
ous harvests when one, two and even
three centuries old."

As the Bonnie Boon lady gazed
dreamily out towards her groves, lift-
ing her eyes, later, to those "purple
peaks of Paradise" engirdling the val-

ley, the visitor arose to bow himself
away.

"You may take my greetings to the
people beyond our valley/' said Miss
Crawford, in her cordial way; "and,
again, my message to those in the far
East is : Here lies the land of equal op-
portunity for men and women, a place
where people may dwell in peace and
security, and enjoy heaven on earth."

Larkspur Ranch

In Hood River Valley, Oregon

LARKSPUR Ranch stands for the
constructive achievement of a
woman. Mrs. Marion MacRea,
mistress and owner of this fine
apple ranch in one of the most beauti-
ful valleys in the West, came out to

Oregon seven years ago on a visit to
friends.

"I was at once captured," she tells
us, "not merely by the scenic beauties
of the region, but by the wonderful in-
dustrial possibilities. I was not looking

OVERLAND MONTHLY

for a home but I knew at once that
I had found one."

For capital, Mrs. MacRae says that
she had at the time just about the
price of an Easter bonnet. This she
paid down as the first installment on
the thirty acres she selected in Hood
River valley, and went valiantly to
work to meet succeeding payments,
prepare her land, and start her apple
orchards.

She now has one of the show places
of this whole region, and recently re-
fused a millionaire's big offer for
Larkspur.

The ranchhouse is extremely pic-
turesque and is still of logs, but the
orchards which are now in commercial
bearing, are "shining and polished as
a jewelry shop/' and the apples are all
of rare and unexcelled varieties.

Independent women farmers of the
United States are steadily increasing
in numbers, and the failures among
them are not frequent. You find thou-
sands of them in the West Hood
River Valley being especially favored
by them, and horticulture the chosen
form of agricultural work.

It is an auspicious sign of the times.

WHITE AAGIC

Blind folks see the fairies,

Oh, better far than we,
Who miss the shining of their wings
Because our eyes are filled with things

We do not wish to see.
They need not seek enchantment

From solemn printed books,
For all about them as they go
The fairies flutter to and fro

With smiling, friendly looks.

Deaf folks hear the fairies

However soft their song ;
Tis we who lose the honey sound
Amid the clamor all around

That beats the whole day long.
But they with gentle faces

Sit quietly apart;

What room have they for sorrowing
While fairy minstrels sit and sing

Close to their listening heart?

R. F.

Early Trails of British Columbia

By Fred Lockley

THE GREAT Medicine Trail of
the Whites/' as the Indians
called the Oregon Trail, started
at Independence, Missouri, and
ended at Fort Vancouver. For years
the Oregon Trail, or The Old Emi-
grant Road, as it was often termed,
ended at the Dalles, the rest of the
journey to Fort Vancouver being made
by raft or boat down the Columbia
River. Later the Oregon Trail was
somewhat shortened by the Barlow
Cutoff across the Cascades, but at best
the Oregon Trail that followed the
route of the Astor party of 1811 from
Independence to Vancouver was 2,000
miles of toilsome travel beset at times
with danger and hardship. How eag-
erly the toil-worn travelers looked for-
ward to getting to Fort Vancouver;
for from there they could scatter and
find claims in the Willamette Valley.

At Fort Vancouver they would secure
supplies and help. From that far-gone
day in the winter of 1824, when Dr.
McLoughlin selected the site of Van-
couver, right up to to-day, Vancouver
has loomed large in history.

Parliament had granted a license to
the Hudson Bay Company that ran for
2 years from the 21st of December,
1821. On May 30, 1838, Parliament
granted an extension of the license,
so that it would run for an additional
21 years, which gave this company au-
thority to operate in the Oregon coun-
try until May 30, 1859. Dr. McLough-
lin resigned as Chief Factor of the
Hudson Bay Company in 1845, and
removed from Fort Vancouver to his
claim at Willamette Falls, now Oregon
City. After long discussion as to the
ownership of the Northwest, the Ore-
gon treaty was proclaimed on Aug. 5,

HEADQUARTERS, ARMY POST VANCOUVER, WASH

Headquarters, army post, Vancouver, Washington.

OVERLAND MONTHLY

Oldest apple tree in the Northwest, Van-
couver, Washington. Planted in 1826 by Dr.
John McLoughlin, chief factor of Hudson Bay
Company, still bearing apples.

1846. This gave the Hudson Bay
Company one year to leave American
territory. In 1846 the United States
War Department issued General Or-
ders 49, which established the Tenth
Military District, "to consist of Ore-
gon and so much of the Mexican prov-
inces of the two Californias as has
been or may be subject to the arms or
the authority of the United States Mil-
itary Headquarters in the field." Thus
for the first time Oregon was officially
recognized by the military authorities
of the United States.

The first order which authorized the
establishment of a military post in
Oregon was issued by the War De-
partment on January 29, 1848, and was
signed by W. L. Macy, Secretary of
War. It was in response to the ap-
peals of the Oregon settlers for help
to suppress the Indians who were on
the warpath at the time of the Cayuse
war, when Doctor and Mrs. Whitman
and their party were murdered at Wil-

atpu Mission near the present city of
Walla Walla. By an order of this
same date, January 29, 1848, a reserve
ten miles square was set aside at Van-
couver for military purposes. The or-
der read as follows: "The command
ing officers of the Military Stations es-
tablished on the route to Oregon will
make a reserve of ten square miles
around the same, and cause it to be
surveyed and divided off into portions
of which the boundaries will be clearly
marked by natural or other objects and
indicated by numbers on a map to be
prepared for future reference. With
a view of diminishing as far as pos-
sible the expense of maintaining
mounted troops at these stations, the
commanding officers will arrange to
allow citizens of the United States to
settle on said military reserves for the
purpose of cultivating and raising
crops, granting to each the lease of a
lot or lots assigned to him for a term
of years not exceeding five, and taking
care to admit no settler of disorderly
habits. These reserves are to be con-
sidered under the restrictions of mili-
tary law, and leases are to be given
under such restrictions and reserva-
tions as will insure to the United States
the objects contemplated in granting
the same."

Major J. S. Hathaway, in command
of Co. L and M, First Artillery, was
ordered to proceed to the Oregon coun-
try. They left their Eastern station
aboard the U. S. propeller "Massachu-
setts" and came around the Horn, ar-
riving at Astoria in May, 1849. Co. M
was stationed at Astoria and Co. L
went up the Columbia to Fort Van-
couver, arriving on May 13, 1849. The
troops pitched camp on the flat just
outside the Hudson Bay quarters, and
the men were at once set to work build-
ing quarters.

By direction of the Chief Quarter-
master of the Pacific Division, Captain
Rufus Ingalls went to Oregon to estab-
lish military posts. Shortly after his
arrival in May, 1849, aboard the "An-
ita/' came the "Walpole," having on
board two years' supplies for the
troops, arrived. Ships were regular

Officers' Club, army post, Vancouver, Washington.

mints in 1849, for men would pay al-
most any price for a ticket to San
Francisco to go to the newly discov-
ered gold diggings, so in place of pro-
ceeding to Vancouver to unload the
military stores, the "Walpole" dis-
charged them at Astoria, and they had
to be brought up to Vancouver in small
boats. Almost every man that was not
bedridden had gone to California, so
no civilians were available to build
quarters. Before the discovery of gold
carpenters could be hired for a dollar
per day, but now they wanted one dol-
lar per hour, for they knew they could
get that much or more at their trade in
San Francisco. Civilian employees
not being procurable, Major Hathaway
paid his artillerymen a dollar a day in
addition to their army pay to cut and
haul logs from the nearby woods,
while others were employed at the
same wages to raft lumber down the
Columbia from the Hudson Bay saw-
mill six miles above.

In September, General Persifer F.
Smith, in command of the Pacific Di-
vision, accompanied by H. D. Vinton,
Chief Quartermaster, arrived in Ore-

gon to select additional military posts.
They were supposed to select a mili-
tary reservation somewhere in South-
ern Oregon, but the idea was aban-
doned, for it was impossible to put on
a strong enough guard to prevent the
men from deserting to go to the Cali-
fornia gold mines. They could make
more in a day there than they were
paid in a month in the army, so the
idea of establishing a post in Southern
Oregon was given up. Colonel Wil-
liam W. Loring, with a regiment of
Mounted Riflemen, had come overland
marching from Fort Leavenworth and
establishing posts at Fort Larimie and
Fort Hall, at both of which points two
companies of the regiment of Mounted
Riflemen were stationed. Upon ar-
rival in Oregon the remaining com-
panies were stationed at Oregon City
in rented quarters. The owners of the
houses in which the troops were quar-
tered charged extremely high prices
for rent, as they thought Uncle Sam
was rich enough to pay it. Gen. Smith
after sizing up the situation, directed
Major Hathaway to leave the quarters
he had built at Fort Vancouver and

OVERLAND MONTHLY

take Co. L to Astoria to rejoin Co. M
of the First Artillery. He directed
Col. Loring to take his regiment of
Mounted Riflemen to Fort Vancouver,
dividing his command, and leaving
some at Fort Vancouver while others
were to be sent to the Dalles to get out
timbers for a fort there.

The regiment of Mounted Riflemen,
when it left Fort Leavenworth, was
600 strong, but death and desertion
had weakened it. Four companies
having been left at Forts Larimie and
Fort Hall, its strength did not exceed
300 enlisted men. When the Mounted
Regiment heard they were to be sent
to the Dalles to get out timbers to build
a fort and other buildings, about half
the men deserted. When the roll was
called it was found that 120 men were
absent without leave. The enlisted
men held a meeting, and from their
own numbers they selected officers and
marched southward in military forma-
tion. So strict was their discipline that
no one suspected that they were de-
serters. They told the settlers that
they were a government expedition,
and wherever they stopped they se-
cured necessary supplies and told those
furnishing the supplies to make out
their bill and send it to the War De-
partment, and it would be paid. Gen-
eral Lane, who had but recently ar-
rived as Governor of Oregon Territory,
and Col. Loring employed what civil-
ians they could secure as packers, and
with a body of soldiers started in pur-
suit. They overtook one body of 70
in the Umpqua Valley.

Some years ago I interviewed Lt.
Cyrenius Mulkey at Roseburg. He was
one of the men sent in pursuit of the
deserters, and told a most interesting
story of the pursuit and capture. One
body of 50 men had pressed on more
rapidly than the 70 who were captured.
General Lane, with part of the escort,
took the captured men back to Oregon
City, while Col. Loring hurried on in
pursuit of the others, following them
to the summit of the Siskiyous. The
snow was so deep and the storms so
severe he had to abandon the pursuit
after capturing seven more of the 50

who were still fleeing southward. Some
of this number, abandoning the trail
to avoid capture, were lost and per-
ished in the snow, while others suc-
ceeded in getting to the California gold
fields. The Mounted Riflemen were
sent to Vancouver, and put to work
constructing additional log barracks.

In May, 1850, Major S. S. Tucker
was ordered to the Dalles, directed to
establish a supply depot and to de-
clare a military reservation 10 miles
square. He began the erection of a
building a mile back from the river.
Col. Loring was directed by the War
Department to reserve for an arsenal
the land near Milwaukee. Part of the
land in the proposed reserve was
owned by Meek and Luelling, and on
this land they had raised the first ap-
ples to be shipped to California from
nursery stock brought across the plains
in prairie schooners.

The settlers were becoming more
than dissatisfied at the size of the res-
ervations being reserved by the mili-
tary authorities. Ten miles square
had been reserved at the Dalles, four
miles square had been set aside at
Vancouver, a reservation had been
made at Astoria, and now the soldiers
were trying to gobble up more land at
Milwaukee. The settlers rose in re-
volt and notified Congress to take
away all United States troops. They
had fought their battles in the past
without the help of the soldiers and
they could in the future. They pre-
ferred the Indians to the troops, for if
the Indians displeased the settlers they
could kill them, if necessary, while
there was no open season on Federal
troops.

On account of the feeling of hos-
tility of the settlers toward Colonel
Loring and his Mounted Riflemen the
latter were ordered to New Orleans,
and the plans to take land near Mil-
waukee for an arsenal were given up.
The size of the military reservations
was reduced, that at Fort Vancouver
being reduced to one square mile. Col.
Loring's command was succeeded by
the First Dragoons under command of
Major Kearn.

Krupps and Kruppism

By Henry C. Strube

POSTERITY will, we believe, have
plenty of evidence which will
place the responsibility for the
Great War mainly upon two men
Wilhelm II and Gustave von Bohlen
und Halbach, who assumed the name
of Krupp on his marriage to Bertha,
eldest daughter of Friedrich Alfred
Krupp, in 1902. The Kaiser is more
than suspected of having business in-
terests in the Krupp firm. War has
been the one objective of the concern
for a long term of years; and there
is plenty of evidence that Krupps en-
couraged a belicost policy in all parts
of the earth in which they could make
their influence felt and they were
many. It is known, too, beyond all
doubt, that loans to foreign countries
were conditioned by German financiers
on a "drawback" in the shape of a
large order for Krupp guns and shells.
On the memorial unveiled by the Kai-
ser at Essen on the celebration of its
centenary are inscribed the names of
fifty-two countries which have been
customers.

On the eve of the Great War Krupps,
with their enormous commitments,
having completed or almost completed
the program of the German Navy,
were threatened with being, so to
speak, out of work. The two Balkan
wars had surfeited quite a group of
customers, and the world at large was
wearied of strife and longed for peace.
Cannot we figure to ourselves, with
some shadow of truth behind the con-
ceit, Krupp and the Kaiser, partners
both in a business which flourished up-
on the destruction of mankind, com-
ing to the conclusion that the day had
dawned and the hour had struck when
Essen required, in order that it should
pile up blood money beyond computa-

tion, and win for them both countless
wealth, that the world should run red
with blood ? At any rate, whether the
conceit rests upon actual truth or only
upon intelligent conjecture, this is ex-
actly what they have done,, and "every
man," as the adage goes, "is supposed
to intend the consequence of his own
acts."

The story of Krupps is one of the
great romances of business. In its ori-
gins the firm was inoffensive enough.
Friedrich Krupp, the founder, seems to
have been a harmless and praiseworthy
engineer, capable and industrious. Be-
ginning with one small forge in 1810,
he built up a business in great poverty,
and always struggling against difficul-
ties. He made some reputation by his
steel dies, which were used at the Dus-
seldorf Mint, but he left behind him
at his death little but debts and the
formula for making crucible steel ! It
is not clear whether he found the for-
mula himself or whether it was the in-
vention of others. There was a law-
suit about it which lasted for seven
years, and Krupp must be given the
credit, as he won the day. He tried to
get the help of the German govern-
ment in conducting further experi-
ments, but this was refused, and he
died, as we have said, in poverty in
1826, in a humble cottage, which still
stands at Essen, near the palace in
which now holds sway Gustav Krupp
von Bohlen und Halbach, the husband
of his great-granddaughter, Bertha.

Alfred, Friedrich's eldest son (who
was only a boy of fourteen at his
father's death), carried on the business
in his mother's name, mainly with
family help, and by his personal in-
dustry, in spite of repeated refusals
from the German government to facili-

OVERLAND MONTHLY

tate his experiments and plans, he won
through. There are abundant and read-
ily accessible records of the technical
details of the developments whereby
he inaugurated cast wheel centers and
cast ingots which weighed at first one
hundred and fifty pounds or so, and
then four hundred pounds, but by 1851
had reached a couple of tons, figures
which seem small enough when we
know that the firm today, which stands
second only to the Creusot Works, is
capable of turning out an ingot weigh-
ing some ninety tons, but were looked
upon as astounding at the time. For
years his business was harmless
enough. He developed, for instance,
the manufacture of machine tools of
all sorts, down to roll-sets for the jew-
elry trade and cast-steel ingots in bulk,
and so on. It was, initially, more from
the force of circumstances than of de-
liberate choice as the country was al-
ready developing that military mad-
ness and moral atrophy which Freder-
ick the Great had practiced and left as
a legacy to his descendants that
Krupp should become the Cannon
King. The secret of crucible steel was
inevitably destined to revolutionize
ordnance, and it was from Krupp's first
three-pounder, built in 1847, that the
mighty monsters of today date their
origin. With their forty-two centimeter
howitzers, the first great surprise of the
war, Krupps reached their zenith.

The Krupp exhibit at the Great Ex-
hibition of 1851 of a solid flawless in-
got of cast steel, two tons in weight,
staggered London, and, indeed, the
world, although the biggest gun shown
by the firm was only a six-pounder af-
ter all, and, looked at by modern eyes,
does not seem to have amounted to
anything worth bragging about. The
honor and glory of this triumph was
the turning point in the fortunes of the
firm. Alfred now, at last, got orders
for ingots from the Prussian govern-
ment, out of which six-pounders were
forged at the Spandau Works, the be-
ginning of the German field artillery.
This was followed by orders from the
Khedive of Egypt for still bigger guns,
twelve-pounders and twenty-four

pounders, and the "die was cast" in a
double sense. From this time Krupps
never looked back, and the nations en-
tered into an orgy of rivalry in arma-
ments. The Age of Steel had begun!
Belgium and Russia followed the ex-
ample of Egypt, and ordered field guns
and heavy guns. Other firms devel-
oped on similar lines, and Italy gave
an order for fresh artillery, including
a one-hundred ton gun (which was
built by Armstrongs) ; while every-
body remembers the eighty-ton "Wool-
wich Infant" manufactured by the
same firm. So big steel ordnance ar-
rived, and iron and bronze guns be-
came only curios.

The Franco-Prussian War proved a
capital advertisement for the Krupp
pattern, and from that time the firm
has made practically the whole of the
German artillery. Time had brought
its revenges, and now Alfred Krupp
had things all his own way. He got
concessions all over Germany, and in-
creased his works at a most prodigious
rate. In rapid succession the firm ac-
quired collieries, iron mines, smelting
works and blast furnaces all over the
country; while its workshops were by
no means limited to Essen, embracing
foundries and engineering works at
Sayn and Duisburg, and, later, steel
works at Annen and armor plate works
at Magdeburg and Rheinhausen. There
is a popular idea that if Essen could
be bombed from the air today, Krupps
would be out of work, but this is a
complete hallucination. It would, of
course, cripple the output, but the ac-
tivities of the concern would only be
hampered for a time. They are far
too astute to put all their eggs into one
basket, although we can well believe
that the bare idea of their mammoth
munition sheds and towns, which cover
an area of more than five hundred
acres, being bombed from the air never
entered their heads.

The association of the business with
the German Emperor dates really from
the friendship between Alfred and
William I, who was mightily enamored
with the mammoth steam hammers,
built, greatly in advance of the times,

KRUPPS AND KRUPPISM

by Alfred, with his unerring foresight,
and then far ahead of anything known
in any other country. The personal as-
sociations of the firm with the War
Lord became, however, much more in-
timate when a bosom friendship sprang
up between Kaiser Wilhelm II and Al-
fred's son, Friedrich Alfred, and from
this time, as we have said, the firm, at
any rate, had its path smoothed by
friends at court.

Born in 1854, Friedrich was five
years older than William II, but there
is no doubt whatever that the two men
became close friends. It was due to
the Kaiser's influence that Krupps were
enabled to become the owners of the
great Germania shipyard at Kiel (of
which for some years they had only
been lessees) and so were able to take
the lead in every department of con-
struction for the German navy. There
is no shadow of doubt that the whole
naval program of Germany was cut
and dried between Krupp and the Kai-
ser long before the latter's naval
dreams became realities. It was
"canny," no doubt, for the precious
pair to get ready in advance for "shar-
ing the swag" in their first attack upon
the wealth of the Empire, and so pro-
vide against that very rainy day when
the bubble of "Weltmacht" shall be
burst once and for all. Anyway, the
extensions of the Germania yard were
made on a prodigious scale, and at an
outlay which nothing but a forecast
based on certainty could have justified.
Its area was increased nearly fourfold
until it extended over some seventy
acres, and "ways" and "slips" were
prepared at enormous cost owing to
the immense excavations required,
amounting to many million tons. The
firm was soon in a position to under-
take the construction of the heaviest
Dreadnaughts from stem to stern, ar-
mor plates being provided from Essen
or Magdeburg, and guns, munitions and
shells forthcoming with marvelous ex-
actitude to schedule.

Krupps, too, were quite ready to take
on shipbuilding orders for other coun-
tries. All was grist that came to their
mill, and they built ironclads and sub-

marines of sorts for all and sundry.
Mr. McKenna electrified the House of
Commons in 1909 by declaring that he
had precise information that Krupps
were prepared to supply all parts of
eight iron-clads a year; and unless the
drain upon their resources for arma-
ment and munitionment has paralyzed
their activities in that "cemented
plate" which so long held the field,
their capacity must have ominously in-
creased in the nine years which have
elapsed since this estimate was made.

The growth of German naval con-
struction is no secret, and need not be
detailed. Some of the dates are, how-
ever, interesting, since they tally curi-
ously with the developments of the
Krupp concern. When the Germania
yard was leased in 1896 two millions
were added to the naval vote. Most
people have probably now forgotten
all about the arrest of the "Bundes-
rath" on a charge of carrying contra-
band in the South African war. This
was, however, the excuse which en-
abled the German Emperor to procure
the consent of the Reichstag in 1900
to the extended Naval Defense Act,
which provided for the outlay of sev-
enty-four million pounds on naval con-
struction and twenty million pounds on
dockyards. Krupps, as a matter of
course, skimmed the cream of this gi-
gantic enterprise, and, buying the Ger-
mania yard outright, embarked upon
those gigantic extensions which we
have already mentioned. Five years
later the firm had little difficulty in ob-
taining a loan of two and a half million
pounds from the Reichstag for the en-
largement of the Essen Works.

Friedrich Krupp died suddenly in
1902, and the Kaiser became the guar-
dian of his daughter, Bertha, and at
once floated the business as a com-
pany, with a capital of nine million
pounds or so, associating himself, of
course through nominees, with the
business as well as with the family. It
is no secret that he "arranged" Bertha's
marriage in 1906 to Baron Gustav. It
was rather a jump from the German
diplomatic service in China, America
and Italy to be the head of this mighty

OVERLAND MONTHLY

concern; but the Kaiser's estimate of
the man has certainly been borne out
by results, and although we must re-
member that Imperial influence no
doubt proved as efficacious as business
capacity in advancing his fortunes, the
head of Krupps has established a rec-
ord for ruthless capacity.

The competitors of Krupps had on
more than one occasion ground for
complaining of the excellent informa-
tion the firm was able to obtain of any
rival tenders and estimates ; for Krupps
made the most of their peculiar posi-
tion, and on more than one occasion
infringed the rules which govern the
international commercial code, which
is very rigid in enforcing fair play, and
does not brook anything which comes
within the limits of sharp practice.

Herr Liebknecht, who is now paying
the penalty for his courage in crossing
the path of the real masters of Ger-
many, made a very considerable pother
in the Reichstag in 1912-13, when he
proved that by bribing officers and
officials Krupps had obtained access to
official secrets. Two directors of the
firm and a few others served as scape-
goats, who bore the sins of those who
sat in the seats of the mighty. They
were tried, convicted, not putting up
any defense worth talking about, and
got off with a very light punishment.
Liebknecht, who has shown such amaz-
ing independence in the Reichstag dur-
ing the war, came in for the payment
of the real penalty in prison and in the
firing line. In Germany it is risky
work fighting "the machine."

Krupps' policy is the exact counter-
part of that of the other masters of
Germany. Their activities have been
world-wide. Spain boasts one mine at
Bilbao, in the Basque Provinces, which
is of real importance. Realizing this,
Krupps acquired an interest, if not the
actual control. The whole story of
their interest abroad has yet to be told.
Since the beginning of the war we
have had revelations and to spare of
their "underground" work in the metal
world. Nickel is, as everybody knows,
an essential alloy of steel in gun mak-
ing and armor plate, and the Societe

des Mines Nickeliferes, although os-
tensibly French, and, therefore, enjoy-
ing extraordinary privileges in New
Caledonia, where there are famous
nickel mines, has turned out to be en-
tirely a Krupp concern. It was, too,
Krupps who got a monopoly in tung-
sten, which is indispensable for hard-
ening armor plate, and essential to the
production of "Krupps' cemented."
The monazite sands of Travancore,
too, from which thorium, uranium and
other rare metals are extracted, had
also passed by actual concession into
Krupp ownership. As the story goes,
the sand was shipped to Germany at
four pounds a ton, while so much as
was passed on to British manufacturers
was invoiced at thirty-six pounds!
Much of the base metal industry of
Australia, too, as we all know, had
got into German hands, the London
middlemen being merely go-betweens.
Even after the declaration of war the
British government found itself actu-
ally buying lead, zinc, copper and man-
ganese from German firms which had
been astutely camouflaged. It is small
wonder that the Australian govern-
ment found a short way of dealing
with these maneuvers, annulling con-
tracts and canceling enemy owned
trade marks with right royal prompti-
tude and thoroughness. It may have
been late as a precaution, but it was
effectual. It is, however, fervently to
be hoped that not all the flabby senti-
mentality of Socialists and Pacifists
will put their "German friends" in pos-
session again. We have a big battle to
fight before we can wrest all the lau-
rels from German metallurgists, head-
ed as they are by Krupps.

The firm is now winning characteris-
tic laurels in a new field of activity.
It is bearing a hand in the machina-
tions whereby Germany is seeking to
undermine the integrity of every coun-
try in the world outside of the alliance
of the Central Empires. It has estab-
lished a gigantic advertising bureau
which is aiming at the subjugation of
the whole Swiss press, in exactly the
same way as it "influenced" the Ital-
ian press, and has essayed to capture

TWO SYMBOLIC BOOKS

the French press. Krupps, of course,
as newspaper proprietors, are old
hands at the publicity game. It is, in-
deed, not to be wondered at that they
should so far have proved themselves
more than a match for all the Allies
put together in this campaign of chi-

canery.

Obvious parallels present them-
selves between the rise of Germany
and that of Krupps. The destinies of
the country and the firm are interwo-
ven, and, if Germany falls, Krupps and
Kruppism fall with it.

Two Symbolic Books

THE PURPOSE of this article is
both to help the average Chris-
tian and to wake him up to the
situation as it appears from the
viewpoint of Almighty God. For cen-
turies two books of the Bible have
been known to be highly symbolic, but
they have no practical message for
Christians because their hidden mean-
ing could not be clearly discerned.
Now, however, during the greatest
crisis of the world, the most perplexing
and distressing crisis for Christians
ever known, when the people every-
where are wondering, searching, pray-
ing, agonizing to know the signifi-
cance of these times, the books of Rev-
elation and Ezekiel have at last given
up their message. It is the message
of the day!

Centuries ago God caused the Apos-
tle John, and before him the Hebrew
prophet Ezekiel, to write down things
which they saw and heard. But they
knew not what they wrote ; for not un-
to themselves but unto us did the pro-
phets minister these things. (1 Peter
1:10-12; 1 Corinthians 10:11; Ro-
mans 15:4.) Ezekiel and John have,
as it were, now stepped, the one out
of the Old Testament and the other
out of the New, each with what is seen
to be a message of startling signifi-
cance for the Christian world, and
which is outlined in this article. But
their messages can be understood only
with a knowledge of the symbolic or

hidden words, as clarified in our last
month's article.

The Book of Revelation.

So inscrutable has been the secret
meaning of the Revelation of St. John
the Divine that many brilliant minds
have given it up as never to be under-
stood. Others have attempted to de-
cipher the book; but none could suc-
ceed until God's due time should come.
While this book is a prophecy of the
Gospel age, yet it is not, as many have
imagined, a continuous story from be-
ginning to end. Rather, the Revelation
is a series of complete sketches of the
Gospel age (and of the age to come),
each from a different viewpoint. It is
intended for the entire body of pro-
fessing Christians of all churches and
denominations. It contains a dual
message, as follows: One of praise,
commendation and comfort for the true
footstep followers of Christ; and an-
other of warning, reproof and fierce
denunciation for those who profess
Christianity, but who fail to walk in
Christ's steps and even, in some in-
stances, follow a course of evil.

The viewpoints of the Revelation
are:

1. The Author of the Revelation.
Chapter 1.

2. The Gospel age messages to the
Church, to both her true and false con-
tingents, as they are scattered over the

OVERLAND MONTHLY

seven periods, each period having its
own divinely ordained messenger.
Chapters 2 and 3.

3. The divine Author of Revelation,
his qualities and his glory. Chapter
4.

4. The Gospel and Millennial ages
from the viewpoint of the Lamb and
his work. Chapter 5.

5. The Gospel age viewed as the
complete unsealing and execution of
the divine plan (Chapter 6), including
at its close the demarkation of the lit-
tle flock and the great company.
Chapter 7.

6. As one of the final features of the
unsealing of the divine purposes, we
are given an understanding of the rise
of Protestantism, of the trumpet mes-
sages, of the way God regards the
great Protestant denominations devel-
oped during the Reformation and
since then, and of their founders, in-
cluding first the Lutherans, the Epis-
copalians, the Presbyterians and the
Baptists. Chapter 8.

7. The first two of the three great
woes upon the Papacy, in the shape of
the rise and work of Methodism and
the other active evangelizing sects of
Protestantism. Chapter 9.

8. The preparatory work for the
third woe upon the Papacy, in the re-
turn of Christ in power and glory with
present truth, to be expressed in seven
books, which should make plain to all
the mystery of God. Chapter 10.

9. A review of the place and the
power and work of the Bible through-
out the dark ages, the French Revolu-
tion and the final years of the Gospel
age. as an important part of the woes
upon the Papacy. Chapter 11:1-5.

10. The third and final woe upon ec-
clesiasticism, in the message of the
seventh great messenger of the Prot-
estant Reformation and the character
of his message and the accompanying
world events. Chapter 11:14-19.

11. Gospel age history depicted as
the warfare against the true Church by
pagan Rome and by the governments
of Christendom. Chapter 12.

12. The warfare against the true
Church by two evil world powers;

first, the Papacy endowed with tem-
poral power and pictured as an inde-
scribably ferocious wild beast; and
finally by apostate Protestantism pic-
tured as a similar wild beast. Chap-
ter 13.

13. Important features of the closing
scenes of the Gospel age, including
(a) The 144,000 with the Lamb
(Chapter 14:1-5); (b) The glad tid-
ings of the Millennium (Chapter 14:6,
7) ; (c) The pronouncing of the sen-
tence upon Christendom (Chapter
14:8-20); (d) The outpouring of the
present truth upon Christendom what
ecclesiasticism regards as seven pla-
gues, contained in seven epochal books
(Chapters 15:16); (e) The identifica-
tion, description and destruction of
mystic Babylon as Papal and Protest-
ant ecclesiasticism, and the world-wide
rejoicing over the fall of this Gospel
age counterfeit of Christ's Kingdom.
Chapters 17, 18 and 19:1-3.^

14. Features of the Millennial reign
of Christ: (a) Rejoicing over the in-
auguration of God's Kingdom; (b) The
final, decisive and victorious warfare
by the Word of God against all oppos-
ing forces of evil at the close of the
Gospel age and the beginning of the
Millennial age (Chapter 19:4-21); (c)
The Millennial age binding of the
devil, the thousand year trial period
of the resurrected dead, the final loos-
ing of the devil, and the annihilation
of him and of all his followers and
sympathizers (Chapter 20:1-15); (d)
The new and righteous civilization to
come after the time of trouble, the
divine government upon earth (Chap-
ter 21) ; (e) The universal preaching
of the unadulterated truth through one
world-wide Church (Chapter 22: 1-5) ;
(f ) The announcement that now, since
these things are at last revealed, they
shall have immediate fulfillment.

The Book of Ezekiel

Until the present world crisis, the
Book of Ezekiel has had, aside from
its historical and moral teachings, no
message for Christian people. But
now that the Biblical method of inter-
pretation of sympolic words is under-

TWO SYMBOLIC BOOKS

stood, this mysterious book is seen to
have a great message for these times.

By the law of compensation, wrong-
doing and those that profit from it can-
not forever escape the "just recom-
pense of reward/" The sins of omis-
sion and commission of Christendom
and of ecclesiasticism have been many,
and a just God has not been unmind-
ful of them. But, while permitting
evil men to "treasure up against them-
selves wrath against the day of wrath
and revelation of the righteous judg-
ment of God, he has reserved the
wicked unto the day of their judgment
to be punished." (Romans 2:5; 2
Peter 2:9.) To-day through the hid-
den messages of the Prophet Ezekiel
Jehovah has revealed his righteous
judgment against Christendom and ec-
clesiasticism, who have borne his name
but has despised his teachings; and
in "tribulation and anguish upon every
soul of man that doeth evil" (Romans
2:9) those who have sown the "wind"
of false theories and doctrines are
reaping and about to reap in utmost
measure the "whirlwind" of unparal-
leled warfare, commotion and trouble.

As the Prophet Ezekiel spoke of
"lamentation and mourning and woe"
(Ezekiel 2:10) just before and during
the destruction of the Hebrew polity
in 606 B. C, so one of God's true Re-
formers, Pastor Russell, and the class
associating with him in these closing
days of the Protestant Reformation
have a similar message for the peoples
of the world. The prophecy of Ezekiel
concerns itself in fulfillment chiefly
with a recital of what Jehovah declares
to be the iniquities of Christendom
and of ecclesiasticism viewed from
every conceivable viewpoint, and with
a pronouncement of the divine penal-
ties for such wrong doing upon those
who constantly but falsely professed
to be doing God's will.

The synopsis of the Book of Ezekiel
is as follows :

I. A vision of the true Church, em-
bodying the principles of the divine
character, executing the purposes of
God, and termed "the glory of God."
Chapter 1.

II. The divine ordination of the last
great Reformer. Chapters 2 and 3.

III. The siege of ecclesiasticism by
the true reform elements of Christian-
ity. Chapter 4.

IV. The iniquities of and the divine
punishment upon so-called Christen-
dom and its ecclesiasticism from vari-
ous viewpoints: (a) As a city honored
by God but wilfully apostate (Chap-
ter 5) ; (b) as kingdoms and nations
prof essiong, but at heart apostate from
the true Christianity (Chapter 6) ; the
immediate fulfillment of the divine
penalties (Chapter 7. ; (c) As the tem-
ple of God defiled by (to God) abom-
inable teachings and practices (Chap-
ter 8) ; (d) As a conquered city whose
inhabitants are divinely marked by
sparing or for destruction (Chapter
9) ; (e) As a city divinely condemned
to be destroyed by a conflagration
from burning coals thrown over it
(Chapter 10) ; (f ) As ecclesiastics des-
pising others but exalting themselves,
while themselves under God's judg-
ment (Chapter 11) ; (9) As a city des-
tined to go into captivity (Chapter 12) ;
(h) As a system of churches which
have held forth false hopes destined
not to be realized (Chapter 13) ; (i)
As given over so thoroughly to spirit-
ual idolatry as to be beyond saving
(Chapter 14) ; (j) As a worthless vine
fit only for fuel (Chapter 15) ; (k) As
a church saved from sin and espoused
by God, but giving herself over
wholly to the spiritual adultery of
church, State and union (Chapter 16) ;
(1) As composed of two contending
pagan forces, conservative and radical,
both divinely destined to be destroyed
(Chapter 17); (m) The individual re-
sponsibility of each person in Chris-
tendom (Chapter 18) ; (n) Ecclesias-
ticism as two young lions (Chapter
19) ; (o) Christendom as a people de-
livered from worldliness and returning
to it and to divine punishment, but ul-
timately in God's mercy to be saved
(Chapter 20) ; (p) As a city against
which are turned both the sword of
war and the sword of the Spirit (Chap-
ter 21) ; (q) As a city of bloodshed,
injustice, oppression and robbery, to

OVERLAND MONTHLY

be recompensed in God's indignation
(Chapter 22) ; (r) As two once chaste
and virgin church systems, Papal and
Protestant, wilfully gone over to spir-
itual fornication (Chapter 23) ; (s) As
that which professed Christian people
esteem and love above all things, but
which is to be taken from them as by
death (Chapter 24) ; (t) As the em-
bodiment of various heathen and
worldly teachings and philosophies
(Chapters 25-32; (u) Ecclesiasticism
as an unfaithful watchman contrasted
with God's faithful watchman (Chap-
ter 33) ; (v) The clergy as hireling
shepherds condemned by God (Chap-
ter 34) ; (w) Churchianity to be deso-
lated for its opposition to true Chris-
tianity (Chapter 35) ; (x) The nations
of Christendom to be given over to
God's fury, but afterwards to be di-
vinely blessed (Chapter 36); (y) The
hopes of Christendom, lost through in-
iquity, and the divine provision for
their final realization (Chapter 37) ;
(z) The final conflict between Christ
and the forces of evil. Chapters 38
and 39.

V. The divine outline of the religio-
political organization of the kingdom
of God, to begin shortly after the close
of the world war.

The Key to the Interpretation.

The keynotes of the interpretation
of the books of Revelation and Ezekiel
are divinely directed as follows:

Revelation : "Because I have called,
and ye refused; I have stretched out
my hand, and no man regarded; but
ye set at nought all my counsel, and

would none of my reproof; I also will
laugh at your calamity; I will mock
when your fear cometh; when your
fear cometh as desolation, and your
destruction as a whirlwind; when dis-
tress and anguish cometh upon you.
Then shall they call upon me, but I will
not answer; they shall seek me early,
but they shall not find me; for that
they hated knowledge, and did not
choose the fear of the Lord. They
would none of my counsel; they des-
pised all my reproof. Therefore shall
they eat of the fruit of their own way,
and be filled with their own devices."
Proverbs 1 :24-31.

Ezekiel: "Go through the city
(Christendom) and smite; let not your
eye spare, neither have ye pity; and
begin at my sanctuary" (the professed
nominal church). Ezekiel 9:5, 6.

The understanding of these two
hitherto sealed books of divine revela-
tion is the last work of the true Church
of God, her final message to the world.
It is in fulfillment of the divine com-
mand: "Proclaim . . . the day of ven-
geance of our God," and "Thrust in
thy sharp sickle (truth), and gather
the clusters of the vine of the earth
(ecclesiasticism) ; for her grapes are
fully ripe." (Isaiah 61:1-3; Revela-
tion 14:18). This is the fulfillment of
the words that are written: "And the
seventh angel poured out his vital
(message) into the air (upon ecclesi-
asticism) ; and there came a great voice
(this message) out of the temple of
heaven (the Church of God), from the
throne (backed by power divine), say-
ing, IT IS DONE! 7 ' Revelation
16:17

Painless Childbirth

(Editorial Note: A great interest is being evinced on the part of the
reading public in the subject of Painless Childbirth. Many demands
are being made for reliable information on the subject. The editor re-
cently read an article by Dr. W. Francis B. Wakefield, of San Francisco,
which appeared in the May issue of "The American Journal of Ob-
stetrics," published by Wm. Wood & Co., of New York. This article
presents the question so tersely and replies so well to the many inquiries
that have been made, that we feel that we cannot do better than present
the subject in Dr. Wakefield' s own words, as we are informed that he is
one of the most reliable authorities in America on this great topic of the
hour.)

' I ^ HE greatest outrage of our mod-
ern civilization is the agony that

A women, in most instances, are
forced to endure in bearing
children. Yet any effort to ameliorate
that great injustice is met with doubt,
scorn and criticism on the part of both
medical profession and laity.

Our modern civilization, with its
higher educational standard and its
more protective environment, has de-
veloped a type of nervous system that
is very susceptible to painful impres-
sions. Not only do 'we feel pain, more
acutely, but our physical and nervous
forces are much more depleted thereby,
with consequent material reduction of
vital energy. Hence, we find, as a re-
sult of this impairment of our motive
force, a general lack of that feeling of
"well being" that constitutes good
health and a corresponding inability to
produce effectual effort, either mental
or physical.

In spite of these well known facts,
which are constantly being recorded
in medical literature, the profession
and public live in silent acquiescence
and have no regard whatever for the

knowledge which will alleviate the suf.
f ering endured by women during child-
birth. They even look askance at all
effort that is made to do away with
pain and make woman's lot, at this
time, and subsequently, more endur-
able.

Our most recent obstetrical literature
informs us, after a careful study of re-
corded vital statistics, that over 20,000
women are dying in the United States
every year from childbirth, and that
hundreds of thousands are rendered
more or less permanent invalids from
the same cause. All honest writers on
the subject agree in the opinion that
the effect on our modern woman of the
suffering endured by her during child-
birth impairs the nervous organization
and the general vital forces to a de-
gree which is assuming an importance
that should make intellectual people
take serious cognizance of the matter.
Yet our thinking people, without giv-
ing the matter either due thought or
intelligent investigation, deride the ef-
forts of the few who have truly
thought, who have patiently investi-
gated, and, as a result, offer a perfectly

OVERLAND MONTHLY

sound and safe remedy.

It is nothing short of a crime for wo-
men to be permitted to suffer their way
into motherhood. It is an outrage that
the most perfect and ideal relationship
in the world should be accompanied by
so much physical distress and so much
mental chaos that weeks or months are
required, in most instances, to over-
come the shock induced by these un-
necessary and pernicious conditions.

Childbirth should be looked forward
to with pleasure. It should be relieved
of everything that interjects a single
element of fear or dread. The mater-
nal mind, if we wish to have the high-
est type of children, should be freed
from the contemplation of anything
undesirable associated with the com-
ing event.

We have at our disposal now an
ideal anesthetic that carries the wo-
man through her entire labor, not only
without pain, but, in most instances,
without any consciousness of the event
whatsoever, so that sensitive women
are spared all knowledge of obnoxious
detail connected with her delivery as
well as being spared all feeling of suf-
fering. Therefore, they emerge from
their labor with all their vital energy
intact; with no remembrance of suf-
fering; with a smiling, joyous sense of
motherhood; with a physical fitness
which makes them conscious of their
ability to take up the tasks which
motherhood imposes.

The nervous and physical exhaus-
tion, which has been a necessary ac-
companiment of motherhood in the
past, is no longer present, but is re-
placed by a sense of physical fitness,
which fills the new mother's heart with
joy and courage. The difference be-
tween the old regime and the new is
so great as to seem almost miraculous
to those who have experienced both
methods. During all the past years,
women have been in bondage from
which they are now being freed. To
us, in the profession, who are practic-
ing the new regime, it is a constant
source of joy to see motherhood robbed
of its terrors, freed from its shackles
of physical incompetency, and made

a thing of joy and gladness associated
with wonderful physical and mental
poise.

Fortunately, too, the mother is not
the sole beneficiary from this humane
and health saving treatment. The
benefits accruing to the child are just
as remarkable.

In the first place, many more child-
ren are born alive under the new re-
gime. Statistics show that the number
of stillborn infants has been greatly
reduced by the administration of con-
tinuous anesthetics to the mother. In
Freiburg, where this treatment origi-
nated, the number of stillbirths was re-
duced from 4^2 per cent to less than
2 per cent. In this country, the number
of stillbirths, in the hands of men who
are using painless labor methods, av-
erages about l l /2 per cent, while
under the old regime the average num-
ber of stillbirths seems to be about 5
per cent. Recent reports from the city
of New York on maternity statistics
show that the average number of still-
births was over S l / 2 per cent. Wil-
liams, of Johns Hopkins, reports the
stillbirths at that institution as be-
ing 7 per cent. Slemmons, who is now
at Yale, but previously had charge of
the obstetrical work at the University
of California, reported an infantile
mortality of over 5 per cent in 500 con-
secutive cases. These figures repre-
sent a fair general average. In con-
tradistinction to these figures, Kronig,
of Freiburg, reported 5,000 cases of
scopolamin-anesthesia (the so-called
"twilight sleep") with only 1.7 per cent
of stillbirths. Polak of Brooklyn, re-
ported 550 cases with only four still-
births, less than 1 per cent. I have
had 400 cases in my own personal work
and my percentage of stillbirths corre-
sponds very closely with the Freiburg
statistics. It is very evident from these
figures that the treatment, far from be-
ing injurious to the infants, as is stated
by our critics, adds materially to their
chances of being born alive.

In the second place, let us consider
what happens to these children after
birth. Several papers written by promi-
nent men during the last year state

PAINLESS CHILDBIRTH

that, in round numbers, 10 per cent of
the children born alive do not survive
the first year of their lives. The re-
cent report of the New York statistics
verifies this opinion. The cause of
these infantile deaths are many, but
the chief one is inanition, that is, a
general lack of vitality in the child. In
400 cases delivered by scopolamin an-
esthesia by myself, the infants have
been followed for periods ranging
from one month to four years, and only
four deaths have occurred in that
length of time, and two of them were
the result of accidents, one child fall-
ing from a second story window to the
pavement below, and the other having
eaten ant poison. We see, therefore,
that if vital statistics mean anything,
the infants delivered by painless labor
methods show a most remarkable de-
gree of vitality. This is due, of course,
to the fact that our method produces
healthy, vigorous, competent mothers,
instead of nervous, debilitated ones,
and the physical and nervous condition
of the child bears a direct ratio to
that of the mother. Every single vital
statistic that has been recorded shows
the superiority of a painless labor
method, over the old regime, wherever
that method has been properly used.

Much of the professional criticism
has been due to the fact that inferior
preparations of scopolamin have been
used. Experience has shown, and
many observers have recorded the fact,
that this drug is practically valueless
in tablet form the form in which it is
most commonly used, because most
convenient and that good results can
only be obtained by using either
freshly prepared solutions from the
original crystals, or by the use of am-
pules prepared by special methods.
Even the crystals have to be carefully
guarded from exposure to air to pre-
vent deleterious degeneration of the
drug from taking place, which entirely
alters its therapeutic action.

The application of a continuous anes-
thetic in labor adds very materially to
the expense of the obstretrics. For that
reason, most of the larger hospitals
find its use impracticable until such

time as general public opinion becomes
aroused to the point of providing suf-
ficient funds for the obstetrical'depart-
ment to offset the necessary increase
in expense.

In private practice, many physicians
are unwilling to meet the demands on
their personal time that a continuous
anesthetic entails. It means constant
attendance on the patient during her
entire labor instead of during the last
hour or two of labor. Think of what
this would mean to a busy general
practitioner, and then you have an-
swered the question that is so often
asked, why do not physicians in gen-
eral take up this treatment?

In some instances, doubtless, profes-
sional criticism comes as a result of
lack of knowledge of the fact that the
perfected system of using scopolamin
anesthesia has removed all objection-
able features that characterized the use
of a certain pernicious tablet contain-
ing scopolamin and morphine that was
in vogue about sixteen years ago, and
still is used by some, and called "Twi-
light Sleep" treatment, because it con-
tains scopolamin. In using this tablet
combination we were, without knowing
it, using an imperfect preparation of
scopolamin, in the first place, and us-
ing dangerous quantities of morphine
in conjunction with it, in the second.
The large, repeated doses of morphine,
which have been entirely eliminated
from the present system of scopolamin
anesthesia, resulted in asphyxiation of
the infants, in many instances, and it
is this recollection which undoubtedly
makes many physicians speak ad-
versely of the present treatment, and
advise against its use on the ground of
its effect on the infant.

They will tell you that the babies
are born asphyxiated (the so-called
"blue babies"). This criticism is ab-
solutely untrue of the present system,
if it is properly used. In a personal ob-
servation of several hundred cases I
have failed in a single instance to note
any asphyxiated infant except where
there was some mechanical reason for
the same, in which case it would have
occurred whether an anesthetic was

OVERLAND MONTHLY

used or not. In fact, we do not have
nearly as many asphyxiated infants as
we had before we used such a treat-
ment.

In one of the large lying-in hospitals
in New York, two very competent ob-
servers, in order to prove this, and one
or two other moot points, confined 200
women under the same general condi-
tions. One hundred were given sco-
polamin anesthesia; 100 were con-
fined without it. In their report they
said that nearly all the scopolamin
babies cried lustily at birth, and
showed no evidence of drug influence,
while seven of the babies born in the
usual way were asphyxiated and re-
quired the application of methods of
resuscitation.

I have yet to find any condition that,
in practical work, offers a contraindi-
cation to the use of scopolamin, prop-
erly administered. I have never seen a
single objectionable symptom from its
use, as I use it. All the vital functions
are rested instead of being overworked.
In patients with broken heart compen-
sation, a painless labor is, indeed, a
vital necessity.

Scopolamin is a perfect first stage
anesthetic, relieving the patient of all
the wear and tear of the long, tedious
hours of uterine dilatation. It carries

the patient well into and mostly
through the second stage of labor.
During the stage of actual delivery, it
should be augmented by some efficient,
and equally harmless, inhalation anes-
thetic, and here we find the use of gas
and oxygen a perfect supplemental aid.

Humanity cries out for the relief of
the torture which characterizes old
time methods of childbirth. The time
is rapidly passing when women will
patiently endure needless suffering or
when the intelligent men of our com-
munities will permit such suffering.

My own personal experience makes
it possible for me to say that nothing
but blind prejudice or willful selfish-
ness on the part of the medical profes-
sion makes necessary any material
amount of suffering in connection with
childbirth, and I surely hope that the
time of woman's emancipation is not
far distant.

During the last decade or so, women
have demanded their rights in other
respects, and it is devoutly to be
hoped that they will demand the right
to bear children without suffering un-
told agonies of both mind and body,
and. at the same time, free themselves
from the all too frequent disastrous
after-effects which such suffering en-
tails.

In the Realm of Bookland

"Joan of Arc and the Meaning of Her
Life for Americans," by C. M. Ste-
vens, author of "Washington/' "Lin-
coln," etc.

Joan of Arc lived the most amazing
life known in human history. Woman-
hood is revealed in her with all the
courage ever known in manhood. Her
frail life represents a power superior
to any priests, warriors or kings. She
changed the civilization of Western
Europe. France owes its existence to
her. But more than that, she with-
stood the most powerful military and
ecclesiastical despotism ever known,
and suffered the most desperate mar-
tyrdom in the history of Christianity.
American readers are becoming in-
terested in this Wonderful Woman.
They want to understand her unsur-
passed career and to appreciate her un-
conquerable soul. The time has come
for Americans to share in the great
human, interest of her, and to realize
the inspiring ideal of her womanhood
and humanity. This book shows how
she is one of the immortal few whose
life surpasses biography, whose career
is more than history and whose char-
acter is a sublime type of the human
struggle. Joan of Arc is a revelation
of the greatest woman interests, the
greatest of religious interests and the
greatest of patriotic interests. This
book is rich with romantic and educa-
tional meaning and value for all classes
of readers.

Illustrated with twelve historical pic-
tures of her life. $1.50 net. Cupples
& Leon, New York.

"Morning Lights and Evening Shad-
ows," by Rossiter Johnson.
Messrs. James T. White & Co., pub-
lishers of The National Cyclopedia of
American Biography, announce the
publication of a series of Modern
American Poetry, under the editorial

supervision of James B. Kenyon, Litt.
D., litterateur and well known author
of numerous volumes of verse and es-
says. Having the opportunity, through
the editorial research of the Cyclope-
dia, to discover the individuals having
libraries and interested in literature
and poetry, believes that his publish-
ing house has, through this channel,
the facilities for a wide distribution of
verse which has high character and the
approval of competent authority. It
is therefore the purpose of the pub-
lishers to issue a series of the Best
Poetry of the Present Day, in compact
and uniform size, in attractive style
and binding, and they believe that such
a series will find a welcome place in
the libraries of all poetry lovers, and
be the means of elevating the art to
a permanent and higher plane in the
thought of the day, as well as doing
justice to the humbler poets, whose
grains of gold might otherwise be lost
for want of such a collector.

"Morning Lights and Evening Shad-
ows" is one of the series.

$1.25 net. James T. White & Co.,
New York.

"Evolution Proving Immortality," by

John 0. Yeiser.

This volume is a reversion of "Im-
mortality Established Through Sci-
ence"; so much new matter has been
added that this is really a new book,
and deserves a new title to distin-
guish it from all earlier editors. The
volume, like the one referred to, is not
a veiled argument for or against any
particular church or any religious doc-
trine, but is primarily a scientific
search among things known to science
for physical evidences of immortality
regardless of the dogmas of any
church.

$1.50 prepaid. National Magazine
Association, Omaha, Neb.

OVERLAND MONTHLY

"Bill of the U. S. A. and Other War
Verses/' by Kenneth Graham Duf-
field.
The foreword of this little book of

verse expresses its spirit:

"Somebody's boy has crossed th' sea,
T' do th' fighting fer you and me.
Let's call him "Bill" he's any man's

son,
That carries a pack and shoulders a

gun."

There's plenty of pep and patriotism
scattered through the sixty-two pages.
The spirit is excellent and the verse
appealing to the patriotic.

50 cents net. Henry Altemus Co.,
Philadelphia.

"Great Heart," by Ethel M. Dell, au-
thor of "The Keeper of the Door,"
etc.

"Greatheart" is the story of one who
with little to rely upon other than his
strength of character, his steadiness,
tenderness and understanding, enters
an unequal combat for the possession
of a woman's heart, already occupied
by the image of another. It is the
story of strength of will pitted against
strength of impulse, of the encounter
of one masterful character with an-
other, his peer in forcefulness, in that
greatest of combats that can enlist
whatever is best and worst in man, the
struggle completely to possess the wo-
man of his choice. The book is 200,-
000 words in length, and every word
is worth reading.

G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York.

"Selected Short Stories" by Guy de

Maupassant.

What new idea of praise can one
contribute to this little book contain-
ing twelve tales of this classic author
and master of the short story. The
book has an excellent introduction
from the pen of that capital critic,
Paul Bourget, himself a famous writer
and a member of the Academic Fran-
cais. His introduction goes into a
critical analysis of "the disease of the

brain which struck him down in the
fullness of production," and he died
without recovering his reason. Bour-
get is in a prominent literary position
in Paris that gives him authority to
discuss this point in the life of his
famous compatriot. Interested admir-
ers of de Maupassant may be able to
find some new material in this dissec-
tion. As to the twelve stories, they
speak for themselves through the
translator; enough to say that the
reader will be able to grasp the charm,
the luxurious power, the delicacy and
flexible ease with which the author
transformed his material into master-
pieces. Four poems of the same au-
thor are appended. The book is bound
in flexible leather, and is an excellent
pocket companion, and is one of the
series of "Little Masterpieces" which
have endeared de Maupassant to the
hearts of English readers.

$1.00 net. Current Literature Pub-
lishing Company, New York.

"Ladies from Hell," by R. D. Pinker-
ton.

The author, R. D. Pinkerton, was a
member of the now famous London
Scottish Regiment, which went into the
fighting at the very beginning. "Ladies
from Hell," the Germans called the
Scotchmen in kilts or skirts who came
tearing through their lines, fighting
with an effect associated with a place
whose climate is said to be different
from that of Scotland; and the name
has lived.

The Scots were in the thick of things
from the Marne on, and Mr. Pinkerton
came to know war for what it is. The
author's remarkable description of the
Battle of Lille was written immedi-
ately following it, while the full de-
tails were fresh in his mind. Indeed,
the first draft of the book was done in
the midst of the terrific thing that is
called war, and the book has captured
the very atmosphere of the Western
front.

The reader will re-live, with the au-
thor, in minutest detail, his months of
training and fighting; the reader will

IN THE REALM OF BOOKLAND

be made a comrade in arms with the
captivating "Ladies from Hell/' From
the book, Americans may see, with a
clearness to be gained from few other
books on the war, just what our sol-
diers meet when they fight the men
in the dirt-colored uniforms.

This "fighting Scot" is a poet at
heart. There are in his book flashes
that tremble in vividness against the
tremendous black background. And
at the end the reader will know more
of what war is its horrors and its
splendors than he ever knew before,
unless he already has been at the mid-
dle of the greatest event of modern
times.

$1.50 net. The Century Co., New
York.

"The Colonial Merchants and the

American Revolution," by Professor

Arthur Meier Schlesinger.

Recent historical investigations into
the American revolutionary epoch tend
to upset the theories by which the ear-
lier historians explained the revolt of
the colonies against the mother coun-
try. There is possibly a tendency now
to overstress the economic motive. But
it can be easily seen that the revolu-
tion was to a considerable extent as
much the result of economic forces as
of political and personal discontent.
An elaborate, well written and most
interesting study of these questions
comes from Prof. Arthur Meier Schles-
inger: "The Colonial Merchants and
the American Revolution, 1763-1776."

Until 1763 smuggling into the colo-
nies, principally from the West Indies,
had been almost openly practiced, and
with the connivance of the customs of-
ficials. An effort made by the British
government to enforce strictly the rev-
enue laws caused much ill feeling to-
ward the mother country on the part
of the mercantile community. Later
came the non-intercourse agreements
entered into by the colonial merchants.
This phase played no small part in the
development of revolutionary senti-
ment.

However, it must not be thought that

the American merchants were a unit
in supporting the patriot cause. On the
contrary, many of them were strongly
Tory in their sentiments and were only
driven very reluctantly into sacrifices
for the good of people whom they
cordially detested.

$4.50 net. Columbia University
Press.

"The Harlequinade," by Granville

Barker and Laurence Housman.

Dixon Scott, that young man of let-
ters, whose brilliant career as a liter-
ary critic was cut short by the war,
described Granville Barker as a sort
of exquisite Pierrot who had gone
wrong, through listening to Bernard
Shaw talk. This theory is borne out
by the fact that on the two occasions
in his career as a playwright when
Barker has collaborated with other
writers, and presumably has listened
to the promptings of his real personal-
ity and not to the great "G. B. S." the
result has been piquant or charming
harlequinades.

With Laurence Houseman, Gran-
ville Barker wrote "Prunella," and in
that delicate little thing the lurking
satire was beautifully veiled, and it
was all so sweet and poetic that it has
become popular as a play for the clev-
erer kind of amateur dramatic socie-
ties. Rather more philosophic perhaps
and more distinctly a piece for the
theatre than "Prunella," is "The Harle-
quinade," which Barker wrote with
Dion Clayton Calthrop, who also acted
in it when his co-author produced the
piece in London as a curtain-raiser.

$1.25 net. Little, Brown & Co.

"Why the Czar Adopted Prohibition."
Nevil Monroe Hopkins, author of
"Over the Threshold of War" (Lippin-
cotts), was in Russia just after the
outbreak of the war. He saw a violent
outbreak in Petrograd and Moscow
when mobs destroyed practically
everything of German and Austrian
proprietorship ; buildings were burned,
their contents looted or destroyed, and
many Germans met with personal ill-

OVERLAND MONTHLY

treatment. This violence., and the
drinking of wine from German shops,
with its attendant disorder, was one of
the causes of Russian prohibition. It
is easy to see why the German Kaiser
failed to use his influence with "Cou-
sin Nicky/' to prevent this ukase. A
trained and shrewd observer, with un-
usual opportunities for getting first-
hand knowledge as to causes and
events, Major Hopkins has given us
many new viewpoints in regard to the
war.

The Popularity of Tagore.

According to a report from the other
side, the writings of Rabindranath Ta-
gore are finding an increasing popu-
larity. It is said, for example, that
over 40,000 copies of "Gitanjali" have
been sold since publication in England
alone, and that as each new book
comes along new readers are added to
Sir Rabindranath's circle of admirers.
In this country, too, the writings of the
Hindu poet are being widely read and
discussed. His most recent volumes
to be issued here are "Mashi and
Other Stories," a collection of four-
teen tales translated from the original
Bengalese by various writers, forming
a companion volume to "The Hungry
Stones/' issued last year, and "Lov-
er's Gift and Crossing/' two poems
much in the style of "Gitanjali."

The Macmillan Co., New York.

"The Kentucky Warbler," by James

Lane Allen.

In the city of Lexington, Ky., there
lived a boy who had no particular am-
bition, no strenuous motive for ex-
istence. One day, in high school, a

visiting lecturer told the story of Alex-
ander Wilson, a roaming Scotch natu-
ralist who had visited Lexington 100
years before, and who was the dis-
coverer of a new and beautiful species
of American wood warbler which he
called the Kentucky warbler. The lec-
ture story awoke the boy to his first
definite thrilling purpose. He would
be a naturalist; he would find this rare
songster in the woods. He had found
the road that was to be his path in
life.

Such is the outline of James Lane
Allen's latest story, "The Kentucky
Warbler." It is not a very long story,
but it is a very pleasant one. There
is a lot of boy psychology in it, and
that is interesting when served as fic-
tion; there is the story of Wilson, fill-
ing a quarter of the book; and there
is the breath of the forest whither the
boy betakes himself on his quest.

A paragraph from the heart of the
book is worth quoting. "The Kentucky
warbler for over a hundred years has
worn the name of the State, and has
carried it all over the world, leading
the students of bird life to form some
image of a far country and to fix their
thoughts at least for some brief mo-
ment on this same beautiful spot of the
world's surface. As long as he re-
mains in the forest of the earth, he
will keep the name of Kentucky alive
though all else it once meant shall
have perished and been forgotten. He
is thus, as nearly as anything in Na-
ture can be, its winged world-wide em-
blem, ever young as each spring is
young, as the green of the woods is
young."

$1.25 net. Doubleday, Page & Co.

Please Mention Overland Monthly When Writing Advertisers.

Hotel Powhatan

WASHINGTON, D. C.

Pennsylvania Avenue, H and Eighteenth SU., N. W.

Showing the Hotel Powhatan upon

the completion of its new addition.

Overlooking the White House, offers every comfort

and luxury, also a superior service. European Plan.

Rooms, detached bath, $1.5O and up

Rooms, private bath. $2.5O and up

Write for Souvenir Booklet and Map

E. C. OWEN, Manager.

The VOSe Grand

is creating a sensation in musical
circles. Investigation will convince
you that never has a grand piano
with the prestige and quality of the
Vose sold at so low a figure. $625
F. O. B. Boston. Before buying a
piano learn more of this wonderful
instrument.

We Challenge Comparisons

Write for our beautifully illustrated
catalogue and easy payment plan.

VOSE & SONS PIANO COMPANY

189Boylston Street, Boston, Mass.

HOTEL LENOX

NORTH STREET AT DELAWARE AVENUE
BUFFALO, NEW YORK

MODERN

FIREPROOF

A unique Hotel, with a desirable location, insuring
quiet and cleanliness.

Convenient to all points of interest popular with
visitors to Niagara Falls and Resorts in the vicinity
cuisine and service unexcelled by the leading
hotels of the larger cities.

EUROPEAN PLAN

$1.50 per day up

Take Elmwood Ave, Car to North St., or Write
for Special Taxicab Arrangement.

May us >ena with our compliments a "Guide of 'Buffalo
and Niagara Falls" also our complete rates?
C. A. MINER, Managing Director

THE

Paul Gerson

DRAMATIC SCHOOL

Incorporated Under the Laws of the State of California

The Largest Training School
of Acting in America

The Only Dramatic School on the Picific Coast

TENTH YEAR

Elocution, Oratory,
Dramatic Art

Advantages:

Professional Experience While Study-
ing. Positions Secured for Graduates.
Six Months Graduating Course. Stu-
dents Can Enter Any Time.

Arrangements can be made with Mr. Gerson
for Amateur and Professional Coaching

Paul Gerson Dramatic School Bldg.
MCALLISTER and HYDE STREET

San Francisco, Cal.
Write for Catalogue.

Please Mention Overland Monthly When Writing Advertisers.

ALICE NIELSEN

Americas Favorite

Lyric Soprano

(.Singing exclusively fo
the Columbia)

FLORENCE MACBETH

American
Coloratura Soprano

Ancient Zinke and Nakeres, Forerunners
of the Military Band

(Singing exclusively for
the Columbia)

/COLUMBIA Records are more
^^ than reproductions, more than
mere echoes of the artist's voice
far more than records, they are
revelations of the artist's personality.

All the charms, freshness and earnestness of a
singer like Alice Nielsen; the gay, sweet allure of
a Florence Macbeth; the power of Rothier, the
strength of Sembach, the magnetism of Garden,
Fremstad, Graveure radiate with the force of
life from their Columbia Double-Disc Records.

To know the great artists of the operatic
stage as operagoers know them after hearing
them for years, you need only have their Colum-
bia Records: for Columbia Records are Reality.

New Columbia Records on sale the 20th of every month

Columbia

Double-Diso

TT ^ JL-fV-J U J-fl *T JU* J O \^

Re cords

Please Mention Overland Monthly When Writing Advertisers.

vii

Meet Me at the
TULLER

For Value, Service
Home Comforts

HOTEL TULLER

DETROIT, MICHIGAN

Center of business on Grand Circus Park. Take
Woodward car, get off at Adams Ave.

ABSOLUTELY FIREPROOF

600 Outside Rooms All Absolutely Quiet

$1.50 UP, SINGLE $3.00 UP, DOUBLE

Special Inducements for Out-of-Town

Guests During the War

Two Floors Agent's
Sample Rooms

"New Unique Cafes and
Cabaret Excellente

HOTEL MARTINIQUE

BROADWAY, 32D STREET, NEW YORK

The House of Taylor

| One block from Pennsylvania Station.

<I Equally Convenient for Amusements, Shopping or

Business.
I 157 Pleasant Rooms, with Private Bath, $2.50

per day.

CI 257 Excellent Rooms, with Private Bath, facing
street, southern exposure, $3.00 per day.

Also Attractive Rooms from $1 .50
The restaurant prices are most moderate

400 BATHS

600 ROOMS

FORTUNES IN
COPPER v SILVER v LEAD

OIL

Wyoming Oil is Making Denver Millionaires

Keep in Touch With Recent Developments
You Will Enjoy the Stories of the

MINES /. RANCHES /. OILFIELDS

Sample Copy on Request

35 CENTS A YEAR-3 YEARS $1.00
Stamps Taken

THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN MAGAZINE

ESTABLISHED 1903

704 QUINCY BUILDING DENVER, COLORADO

viii

Please Mention Overland Monthly When Writing Advertisers.

GET 6 NEW SUBSCRIBERS
TO OVERLAND MONTHLY
AND

Receive a MANDEL-ETTE CAMERA, the
new one minute photographic creation,
the latest thing in cameras.

The Mandel-ette takes and finishes original post-card photographs in one minute
without plates or films. No printing; no dark rooms; no experience required.
Press the button, and the Mandel-ette turns out three completed pictures in one
minute. It embodies a camera, developing chamber, and dark room all in one
a miniature photograph gallery, reducing the cost of the ordinary photograph
from 10 cents to l l / 2 cents. The magazine holds from 16 to 50 2^x3^2 post
cards, and can be loaded in broad day-light; no dark room necessary. Simple
instructions accompany each camera.

A child can take perfect pictures with it.
Price on the market, $5.

OVERLAND MONTHLY for one year and a Mandel-ette Camera, $5.
Get 6 NEW SUBSCRIBERS for OVERLAND MONTHLY, and forward the
subscriptions and $9.00, and you will receive a Mandel-ette Camera FREE.

Address, OVERLAND MONTHLY

259 Minna Street, San Francisco

Please Mention Overland Monthly When Writing Advertisers.

Your Prospective Customers

are listed in our Catalog of 99% guaranteed Mailing
Lists. It also contains vital suggestions how to ad-
vertise and sell profitably by mail. Counts and
prices given on 6000 different national Lists, cover-
ing all classes; for instance, Farmers, Noodle Mfrs.,
Hardware Dlrs., Zinc Mines, etc. This valuable
Reference Book free. Write for it.

Strengthen Your Advertising Literature.

Our Analytical Advertising Counsel and Sales
Promotion Service will improve both your plan
and copy, thus insuring maximum profits.
Submit your literature for preliminary anal-
ysis and quotation no obligation.

Ross -Gould

Si*. Louis

MAKE HIM SAY " UNCLE

HELP CHOKE THE KAISER

LIBERTY BOND Statuettes and Plaques
GREAT WAR NOVELTIES

Sample 50c. A big seller (2,000,000 sold in New
York). Get territory rights now. Write right
away. Live wire agents, canvassers and solicitors
wanted.

259 MINNA STREET
SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.

FF
. r.

Reduced
rates on

ITDS N Frej g ht Forwarding Co.

I \J household goods to and from all points on the

** Pacific Coast 446 Marquette Building, Chicago

640 Old South BIdg., Boston
324 Whitehall BIdg., N. Y.
435 Oliver BIdg., Pittsburgh
272 Drexel BIdg., Phil. Pa.

518 Central BIdg., Los Angeles
Write nearest office

Bank BIdg.

1537 Boatmen

St. Louis

855 Monadnock BIdg.,

San Francisco

INVENTIONS

Cash for Inventions and patents Write

POM IN SHOES
IS J1LJS GiS

Poot=Ease to Be Added to Equipment of
Hospital Corps at Fort Wayne.

Under the above heading the Detroit Free Press,
among other things says : "The theory is that sol-
diers whose feet are in good condition can walk
further and faster than soldiers who have corns and
bunions incased in rawhide."

The Plattsburg Camp Manual advises men in
training to shake Foot=Ease in their shoes each
morning.

One war relief committee reports, of all the things
sent out in their Comfort Bags or "Kits," Allen's
Foot=Ease received the most praise from the sol-
diers and men of the navy. It is used by American,
French and British troops, because it takes the
Friction from the Shoe and freshens the feet. There
is no foot comforter equal to Allen's Foot=Ease, the
antiseptic, healing powder to be shaken into the
shoes and sprinkled in the foot-bath, the standard
remedy for over 25 years for hot, tired, aching,
perspiring, smarting, swollen, tender feet, corns,
bunions, blisters or callouses.

Why not order a dozen or more 25c. boxes to-day
from your Druggist or Dep't. store to mail to your
friends in training camps and in the army and navy.

THE BIGGEST 10c WORTH YOU

EVER HAVE HAD
ETCH FIATC flAU

bod y s Poultry Magazine,
America's highest class
poultry publication. With your lOc include the addresses of
ten of your neighbors who keep poultry but are not present
subscribers to Everybodys, and we will send you for your
trouble the 100-page book "Poultry Secrets " absolutely free.
EVERYBODYS POULTRY MAGAZINE PUBLISHING CO..
Box A -13, Hanover, Pa.

If Lonely; write me; and I will send you
hundreds descnptions; congenial people,
worth $1,000 to $350, 000; wishing mar-
riage; (Confidential); RALPH HYDE, SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.

At
HI

I DARE YOU ANSWER

lonely, will marry, for more particulars, address, MISSION UNITY.
253a Minna Street, San Francisco, Calif.

ECZEMA, PSORIASIS

dandruff, rheumatism, piles, cured or no charge. Write

for particulars.

ECZEMA REMEDY CO. Hot Springs Ark.

Don't Wear A Truss

Do Away With Steel and Rubber Bands that chafe and pinch. Stuart's PLAPAO-
PADS are different from the truss, being medicine applicators
made self-adhesive purposely to prevent slipping and to hold
the distended muscles securely in place. No "digging in" or
grinding pressure. No straps, buckles or springs attached.
Simple Home Treatment. Easy to Apply Soft as Velvet Inexpensive.
No delay from work. Hundreds of sworn testimonials from
those cured, some of them most aggra-
vated cases and of long standing.

Awarded Gald Medal and Grand prix -

Do This NOW!
Save Years of Suffering.

Write today for FREE Trial Plapao

and illustrated book on rupture.
Learn how to close the hernial opon-
ing as nature intended, so the rupture
-- -

2196 Railway Exchange, St. Louis, Mo.

Fisher Mfg. Co.,

AL OF PLAPAO

come down. No charge for it,
now or ever; nothing to return.
Plapao Co., Block(797j St. Louis, Mo.

Please Mention Overland Monthly When Writing Advertisers.

THE BOYS' MAGAZINE

a^azine A WHOLE YEAR FOR ONLY 60 CENTS

[Regular Yearly Subscription Price $1 Newsstand Price $1.2O]

Besides making this special bargain price, we give to each
new subscriber a copy of our booklet " Fifty Ways forBoys
to Earn Money." Every live, ambitious boy should have a
copy of this booklet.

You could not give a boy a greater pleasure or a stronger
influence for good than a year's subscription to this
superb magazine. Each issue is filled with clean, inspir-
ing stories by the very best boys' writers. Special articles
about Electricity, Mechanics, Athletics and Physical Train-
ing, Gardening, Camping, Hunting, Trapping, Fishing,
Bicycle and Motorcycle, Carpentry, Photography, Poultry,
Drawing, Stamp and Coin Collecting, Boys' Societies,
Jokes, Cartoons, Etc., Etc.

Get this splendid magazine for your boy or for some boy
in whom you take a special interest. It will give him a full
year of pleasure, entertainment and instruction.

Satisfaction, or money refunded. (Remit in stamps if more
convenient.) Address

THE SGOn F. REDFIELD COMPANY, 2155 Main Streit, Smettiport, Pa.

Tfi/s a ff?i/

F. MARRIOTT, Publisher

A Journal for the Cultured
Oldest and Brightest Week-
ly Newspaper on the Paci-
fic Coast. 10 Cents Per Copy

Please Mention Overland Monthly When Writing Advertisers.

If Every month it reaches the highest
class of readers people who know
and appreciate the best motion picture
literature.

fl Every month it surpasses its best
previous efforts to amuse and enter-
tain^ containing exclusively-prepared
features.

1f Every month it is eagerly awaited
by thousands of young and old alike
who demand the reading quality.

1f Every month its circulation takes
another upward bound each copy its
own best salesman. And there's a rea-
son ifs

The Most Talked of Magazine of
Its Class in the World

If you are not already a regular subscriber don't fail to take advantage of the

special introductory offer the next six numbers for $1.00. At its expiration

you'll be sure to come back and become a regular subscriber, for you won't want
to miss a single number.

25 Cents a Copy

The PHOTO-PLAY WORLD

$2.50 a Year

Midsummer fashions are discussed by one of America's greatest writers on Mi-
lady's dress. Specially posed by leading screen stars.

And then there are a wealth of interest-
ing features, profusely illustrated and
printed from the finest plates, specially
written and prepared by well known nar-
rators of the world of filmdom.
You can't go wrong in selecting your sum-
mer reading a change of address to suit
your vacation travels as many times as
you like.

THE DOWNS PUBLISHING CO.

BULLETIN BUILDING PHILADELPHIA

Cutout this Coupon and Mail Promptly

THE PHOTO-PLAY WORLD
Philadelphia, Pa.

Enter my subscription to THE PHOTO-
PLAY WORLD for six months, beginning
with the next issue.
I enclose herewith one dollar.

Name

Street Address

City

State .

Please Mention Overland Monthly When Writing Advertisers.

H ALFTON E
ENGRAVINGS

9 Cents Per Square Inch

For Advertising 'Purposes For Illustrating Booklets
For Newspapers For <*%Cagazines

The halftone engravings that have appeared in
the various issues of the Overland Monthly re-
present subjects suitable for almost any purpose.
Having been carefully used in printing, they are

As Good As New

Prints of these illustrations can be seen at the
office. Over 10,000 cuts to select from.

Overland Monthly

259 MINNA STREET SAN FRANCISCO

'^THERE'S A MAN OUT THERE who fights for you and the
1 things that you hold true, there's a Cause Out There you're
backing up with all that's best in you.

OW here's a need of the Man Out There a need you can
easily fill come, cram his pouch with the smokes he loves
kick in with a dollar bill.

FOR it's not the crash of the heavy gun nor the strain on the
man who serves ; it's lacking a smoke when it's smoking time
that frazzles a soldier's nerves.

r 7~ 1 HOUGH there isn't much that we can do, back home safe out
1 of the muss, we can sure send smokes and we'll do it too let
them count on that from us.

They are counting on you generous men
and women, and you'll see to it that none
of Uncle Sam's fighting men lacks plenty
to smoke.

Before you put down this magazine cut
off that coupon in the corner, fill it out,
and send it along with all you can spare to

"Our Boys in France Tobacco Fund"

The management of this fund, which has the hearty
approval of the Secretaries of War and Navy, buys
the tobacco at cost, so that for twenty-five cents the
soldier who is fighting your battle receives forty-
five cents worth of tobac-

co every cent going for
tobacco.

It has been arranged to
have the soldier you sup-
ply send you a return post-
card telling what it means
to him to have all he wants
to smoke out there.

Let's show the world
that the citizens of the
United States never fail
to respond to an appeal of
this sort. Fill in the cou-
pon now.

Our Boys in France Tobacco Fund,"

25 West 44th Street, New York.

Enclosed find

to buy packages of to-
bacco, through "Our Boys in France Tobacco
Fund" for American fighting men in France.

I understand that each dollar buys four pack-
ages, each with a retail value of forty-five cents
and that in each of my packages will, be placed a
post card, addressed to me, on which my un-
known friend, the soldier, will agree to send me
a message of thanks.

Name

Address Street

City

SAN FRANCISCO'S NEWEST HOTEL

HOTEL PLAZA

FACING BEAUTIFUL UNION SQUARE
CORNER OF POST AND STOCKTON STREETS

fSl 1 Jfi 1 Hi f N flf ftffri

^JS M M IK. i ' a c e i i i-

European Plan
$1.50 up

American Plan
$3.50 up

Our Main Cafe
Being Operated
on the a la
Carte and Table
d'Hote Plans.

Special Rooms
for Banquets and
Private Parties.

Management of
C. A. Gonder

Mexico and Its Picturesque
People and Scenery

I Wanter Play With the Wash Clothes.

A Mexican Woman Weaving a Blanket.

A Navajo Indian Blanket Weaver.

At a Church Door.

ruou.

31 1918

OVERLAND

Founded 1868

MONTHLY

BRET HARTE

VOL. LXXII

San Francisco, August, 1918

No. 2

The flying buttress on the

Photo.

With the Zunis in New /Mexico

By George Wharton James

Author of " The Wonders of the Colorado Desert," " In and Around the Grand

Canyon," " The Indians of the Painted Desert Region," " Indian Basketry,"

"Through Ramona's Country," "Arizona, the Wonderland,"

" California, Romantic and Beautiful," etc., etc.

WHEN Coronado, with his band
of gold-seeking Conquista-
dores, started from Northern
Mexico to discover the myth-
ical "Seven Cities of Cibola," in 1540,
he and his companions valued money
more than human life, and the finding

of precious stones more than the dis-
covery of a new race.

Hence their expedition was, to them,
a sad failure. For the Indians of our
portion of America were not, as were
the tribes of the Mexican country and
of South America, adepts in the arts

Aug-2

El Morro Inscription Rock

Maude, Photo.

of mining and the smelting of gold
and silver ores.

But had these conquistadores pos-
sessed a true appreciation of the doc-
trine of man's brotherhood they would
have rejoiced in the discoveries they
did make, for they found several most
interesting races of people, whose in-
ner lives and customs to this day we
have not yet completely penetrated.

It is to these peoples I wish to pilot
my reader in this series of articles, for
they have lost none of their fascination
and attractiveness in the last three hun-
dred and fifty years that have elapsed
since they were first seen by Caucasian
eyes.

Coronado's expedition was under-
taken because of the reports brought
to the Viceroy of New Spain by Ca-
beza de Vaca, the treasurer of Panfilo
de Narvaez's ill-fated expedition to
what is now Florida. That expedition,
as is well known, went to utter destruc-
tion and none but Cabeza de Vaca, and
three wretched companions escaped.
With a keen appreciation of his deso-
late condition and his only hope of sal-

vation, de Vaca determined to en-
deavor to reach the settlements on the
other side of the country, and thus
started that marvelous, first transconti-
nental journey over the plains and
mountain ranges of North American
territory. Imprisoned by tribe after
tribe, now abused as a slave, now re-
vered and almost worshiped as one
possessing great shamanistic powers,
it required the exercise of constant
craft and cunning to escape and push
on westward. Oh, the impatience, the
heart-hunger, the agony of despair of
that long nine years of endeavor! For
it was nine years from the time of the
destruction of Narvaez's ships before
Cabeza de Vaca and his companions
astonished the Spaniards of Culiacan
by marching in upon them as those
raised from the dead.

Eagerly their story was listened to,
and while their woes doubtless were
formally sympathized with and their
hardships condoled, the part of their
narrative that excited the most inter-
est and awakened the most solicitude
was when de Vaca told of certain cit-

El Morro, facing south where some of the inscriptions appear. Maude, Photo.

ies that had been described to him,
somewhere off to the north, but too far
from his westward path for him to
visit.

Immediately his hearers decided
that these were the long-dreamed-of
"Cities of Quivera," and after a re-
connaisance, conducted by Marcos de
Niza, Coronado's expedition set forth,
with great pomp, circumstance and
blare of trumpet, in February, 1540.

On the seventh of July in the same
year, after a somewhat strenuous and
arduous journey Cibola was reached,
and here is Winship's translation of
the description given it by Casteneda,
the historian of the Coronado expedi-
tion:

"It is a little, unattractive village,
looking as if it had been crumpled all
up together. There are mansions in
New Spain which make a better ap-
pearance at a distance. It is a village
of about 200 warriors, is three and
four stories high, with the houses small
and having only a few rooms, and
without a courtyard. One yard serves

for each section. The people of the
whole district had collected here, for
there are seven villages in the prov-
ince, and some of the others are even
larger and stronger than Cibola. These
folks waited for the army, drawn up
by divisions in front of the village.
When they refused to have peace on
the terms the interpreters extended to
them, but appeared defiant, the Santi-
ago was given, and they were at once
put to flight. The Spaniards then at-
tacked the village, which was taken
with not a little difficulty, since they
held the narrow and crooked entrance.
During the attack they knocked the
general down with a large stone, and
would have killed him but for Don
Garcia Lopez de Cardenas and Her-
nando de Alvarado, who threw them-
selves above him and drew him away,
receiving the blows of the stones,
which were not few. But the first fury
of the Spaniards could not be resisted,
and in less than an hour they entered
the village and captured it. They dis-
covered food there, which was the

Inscription on El Morro, New Mexico

thing they were most in need of."

Thus was given to the world its first
knowledge of Zuni and its interesting
people. But next to nothing was really
known of them until Lieut. Frank
Hamilton Gushing was sent in 1879 by
Major Powell, the director of the U.
S. Bureau of American Ethnology, to
live with them and make an exhaustive
study of their mode of life and
thought. In the "Century Magazine,"
in 1883-4, Gushing published three ar-
ticles upon the Zunis which aroused
the interest of the whole English-
speaking and civilized world, and since
then other scientific investigators have
carried on their researches, until now
we have a fairly accurate and compre-
hensive knowledge of Zuni and the
Zunians. Upon this knowledge gleaned
by others, in addition to the results of
my own observations, which have ex-
tended over twenty years,^ I shall de-
pend for the following sketches.

To reach Zuni today one travels on
the main line of the Santa Fe route
from Chicago to the Pacific Coast.
Some sixty-nine miles west of Albu-
querque, N. M., or 1,473 miles west of

Chicago, is the small settlement of
Grants, and from this point, or Gallup,
sixty-two miles further on, one may
secure a team and drive almost due
south to Zuni. The distance is in the
neighborhood of fifty miles, and on
the journey we pass by the most not-
able autograph album known to man.
This is El Morro, of the Mexicans, or
the Inscription Rock of the Americans.
It is a noble triangular block of sand-
stone, of pearly whitish color, with
sheer walls over two hundred feet high
and suggesting in its stupendous gran-
deur a temple or castle built after the
style of the Egyptians, but immeasur-
ably larger. The walls are seamed
and marked with the storms and con-
flicts of many centuries, and are thou-
sands of feet long, while its towerlike
appearance in front is matched by a
singularly majestic piece of nature
sculpturing in the rear.

On two sides of the rock the inscrip-
tions are found, and as they were all
engraved by men standing at the base
of the rock, very few of them are
higher than a man's head. The per-
fection of the inscriptions is remark-

The inscription of the Bishop of Durango on his way to pay a pastoral visit to the Zunis

in 1737

able. They are as distinctive in their
character as the handwritings of men
on paper, and all of them are remark-
ably well done. The surprising thing
is that after all these years they are
still so perfect; but this is accounted
for by the peculiar character of the
rock and the fact that it does not
crumble when exposed to the weather.
It is of very fine grain and compara-
tively easy to scratch into, and the two
walls upon which the inscriptions oc-
cur being practically protected from
storms, these rock autographs remain
almost as clear and as perfect as the
day they were written. That of Lieu-
tenant Simpson seems as if made but
yesterday. It was neatly done in a
parallelogram by Mr. Kern, and reads
as follows: "Lt. J. H. Simpson, U. S.
A., and R. H. Kern, artist, visited and
copied this inscriptions, September
17th, 1849."

The major part of the inscriptions
are on the north face of the rock, a
very striking one being that of Bishop
Elizaecochea, of Durango, Mexico.

Here is the inscription as copied by
Mr. Kern. Its translation is as fol-
lows:

"On the 28th day of September of
1737, reached here the most illustri-
ous Senor Doctor Don Martin De Eli-
zaecochea, Bishop of Durango, and on
the 29th day passed on to Zuni."

This refers to one of the official vis-
its made by the Bishop of Durango, in
whose district the whole of New Mex-
ico belonged, and to which it remained
attached until 1852.

Just above that of the Bishop and
slightly to the left are two other au-
tographs, doubtless of members of his
party. Between them is a fairly well
engraved representation of an orna-
mented cross. The larger inscription
reads as follows: "On the 28th day of
September, 1737, reached here 'B'
(supposed to represent Bachiller
Bachelor of arts) Don Juan Yyna-
cio De Arrasain ;" and the other mere-
ly says, "There passed by here Dyego
Belagus."

One of the inscriptions reproduced

The Luzan Inscription. One of the most interesting at El Morro, N. M.

by Kern is shown herewith.

It is quite a puzzling inscription, be-
ing decipherable only by those famil-
iar with the ancient Spanish writings.
Translated into long-hand Spanish
and then into English, it reads as fol-
lows:

"They passed on the 23d of March
of the year 1632 to the avenging of the
death of the Father Letrado. Lujan."

Father Letrado was the missionary
who practically established the Fran-
ciscan mission at Zuni. He had al-
ready proven his faithfulness by ser-
vice among the Jumanos, a wild tribe
of Indians who occupied the plains
east of the Rio Grande. He did not
labor long with the Zunis, for in Feb-
ruary, 1630, they murdered him. The
Governor, Francisco de la Mora Ce-
ballos, sent a handful of soldiers un-
der the command of Colonel Tomas de
Albizu to avenge the death of Father
Letrado, and it is possible that Lujan
was a soldier on this expedition. When
the soldiers arrived at Zuni they found
that the pueblo was deserted and the

people had retired to the summit of
Corn Mountain. With great tact and
diplomacy Albizu persuaded them to
return to their homes, and, on prom-
ises of amendment, the breach caused
by Father Letrado's murder was
healed.

But however interesting the inscrip-
tions are at El Morro, they are by no
means the only objects to attract our
attention. Walking along the east wall
for several hundred yards, we find it
possible to scale the rugged slope that
leads to the top of El Morro. Here, to
our surprise, we discover that it is
practically split in half by a narrow
canyon, in the center of which grows
a tall pine. This canyon seems liter-
ally scooped out of the solid rock, for
from the point where we have been
examining and copying the inscrip-
tions there is nothing whatever to in-
dicate its existence. It is a perfect
cul de sac. A whole army might hide
here, and if they observed a discreet
silence, another hostile army could oc-
cupy the north and south sides of the

112

OVERLAND MONTHLY

rock for a week and never dream of
their existence. Perched on the high-
est summit of the two sides of the rock
thus divided by this canyon are the
ruins of two interesting prehistoric vil-
lages. The nearer of these ruins pre-
sents a rectangle 206 feet wide by 307
feet long, the sides conforming to the
four cardinal points. We examine
them with interest. There were evi-
dently two ranges of rooms on the
north side and two on the west, with a
few rooms within the court. On the
north side we find one room seven feet
four inches by eight and one-half feet,
and on the east side one, eight and
one-half by seven feet. These were
the two largest rooms, except for one
circular kha, thirty-one feet in diame-
ter, near the middle of the north wall.

The ruin on the opposite side is of
the same character, and around both
ruins we pick up many specimens from
the immense quantities of broken pot-
tery, almost all decorated after the us-
ual style.

This visit to Inscription Rock pre-
pares us for the greater interest that
awaits us at Zuni. Wearily our ponies
drag us over the sandy road until at
last from the summit of a hill the Zuni
Valley spreads out before us, and there
in the center of the plain, close by the
almost dry stream, arises the city of
our dreams of many years.

Eagerly we pushed on, and in due
time reached the house seen in the
right foreground of the engraving.
Now, while our ponies were being un-
harnessed, we were able to get our
first comprehensive view of Zuni from
the east side of the now almost dry
creek that has been dignified by the
name, Zuni River. It never was much
of a river, though one of the first ex-
peditions into the region after it be-
came U. S. territory was to determine
its navigability.

Yonder is Zuni. Imagine a lot of

low, squat or oblong, flat-roofed
houses of adobe, leading the eye from
the left to the main part of the town,
where they are connected one with an-
other, in rows and squares and streets,
piled up one above another, receding
in front and on both sides as they as-
cend higher, so that they form a series
of terraces on three sides, the topmost
houses being perched six stories high,
and you have a crude idea of the ar-
chitecture of Zuni. Now add to this
the poles of the ladders thrust out
from numberless hatchways, the quaint
chimneys, made of pottery ollas, or
water-jars, the bottoms broken out,
piled one above another, the quaint
stairways between the stories and on
dividing walls, the open-air bee-hive-
like ovens, the strings of chili-pepper
pods, glistening brilliant red in the
sunshine, the poles of firewood stacked
on the housetops, the patient burros
standing hobbled in the streets, or
slowly moving to and fro in search of
scraps, the little figures or naked boys
and girls bronzed Cupids as one has
appropriately called them romping
about and playing hilariously, as
children of the sun-loving races al-
.ways do, and you have a fair general
impression of what Zuni is to the cas-
ual observer.

But only to the casual observer. It
has taken years of patient, loving study
to discover what is behind all this.
One meets the men and women of
Zuni, some of them with smiling faces,
others stern and serious all seamed
and wrinkled with the earnestness of
life and he thinks of them as crude,
simple, ignorant and perhaps brutal
savages, and yet, what a wealth of
poetry, of symbolism, of imagery, of
tradition, of folk-lore, lies back of
those simple and weather-beaten, life-
scarred faces. Into some of this wealth
I wish, by and by, to lead you.
To be continued.

Overlooking the site of the Petrified Forest from an elevation.

Petrified Forests of Arizona

By Everett Edgar King, Prof. Railway Engineering,
Iowa State College, Ames

THIS is not such a forest as the
giant redwoods of Central Cali-
fornia. Its trees are not mir-
rored on the shores of emerald
lakes. Lumber mills have long ceased
to hum. The air does not bear the
fragrance of the pine, the spruce and
the balsam. Flowers do not grow in
the sun-lit spots. Birds do not build
their nests in branches nor flit from
bough to bough. The wind does not
sigh nor wail at night as it sweeps
among these trees. They do not shel-

ter the bear, the deer, and the ante-
lope as other forests do in the great
Out-West. They have their govern-
ment rangers, too, but they are not
equipped for fighting fires. There is
little danger of trees burning in these
forests of Arizona.

There is not a leaf nor a twig, not a
stem nor a limb; there is not even a
tree standing in these stone forests.
They lie as flat as the day they fell,
ages and ages ago. Thousands of
them have been broken to pieces the

A log bridge of the Petrified Forest.

size of a hickory-nut. Others are
broken in stove-wood lengths as if
they had been sawed for the kitchen
range. Fortunately, many trunks are
still intact from their roots to their
slender tips. They scale from a half
to five feet across with lengths as
much as two hundred. The bark in
some cases is still attached. There
are the rings around the heart of the
tree. One can count them and tell
their age on the day they ceased to
grow. Some of the trunks are rotten,
but most of them were sound when
they turned to stone. Many of them
look as natural as if they lay in an
Iowa woods, but the sparks would fly
as they do from a forge, should one
strike them with an ax.

Of the cause of the trees falling, no
one, of course, will ever know. It
must have been connected with some
upheaval, for they were later covered
by an inland sea. Over them was de-

posited layer after layer of mud. Eons
passed, and this mud was turned to
stone, and with it the trees. The stone
that replaced the wood became very
beautifully colored by the minerals
that it contained. Among these agents
were copper, sulphur, iron and salt.
Another upheaval, and ages passed;
but the elements that formerly covered
the trees now aided to unearth them.
After wearing away a mile of rock
they have brought them to light again.
But the trees are changed. Instead of
wood they are agate now, with colors
that match the rainbow.

There are five of such forests in
Arizona within a radius of eighteen
miles of a little station called Ada-
mana on the main line of the Santa
Fe. They lie in the land of the Na-
vajo Indians, in a desert as wild as
the West affords. Yet the traveler
should not fear for a place to stay, for
there has been a hotel at Adamana

Sections of trees scattered about in the Petrified Forest, Arizona

since traffic first went there by rail.
Its service is as good as one could
wish for, and there are Fords and
Packards for hiring.

Two forests lie on the north, nine
and twelve miles away in the edge of
the Painted Desert. There are three
on the south, the first one is six, and
the third one eighteen miles from the
railroad station. The three on the
south became a national monument in

1906. Within its borders lie the best
and the largest trees. It is patrolled
by rangers to preserve these treasures.
No one is allowed to break any stone
nor is he allowed to carry away more
than a five pound piece. Although
some of the forests cover two thousand
"acres, nearly every part of them can
be seen from the automobile.

An interesting feature on the first
one on the south is the stone foot-

116

OVERLAND MONTHLY

bridge, a tree upturned with its roots
attached. On hundred and ten feet of
the trunk is exposed, sixty of which
spans a shallow ravine. The tree mea-
sures four feet across at its -base, and
three at the middle of the span.

Each forest is famous for some par-
ticular attraction, and a day spent in

each would be well worth while. The
American Desert is in part unattrac-
tive, but it holds much of which it is
justly proud. It has arches and me-
sas and painted desert, cliff-dwellings
and canyons and petrified forests,
which in all the world have no com-
peers.

The Rat

By John Biggs, Jr.

HAMPTON pressed his face
against the inch-thick glass,
and peered out. He had been
doing this with imbecile regu-
larity for the last three hours. With
face contorted, he would stare until his
eyes glazed, across the neck-high
banks of snow, past the wavering black
lines of the pine trees, and down into
the hazy arc of mountain-side an arc
whose outward curve was limited by
an inverted bowl of white opaqueness.
The snow fell in slanting lines lines
which were like slender tape, stretch-
ing without break from heaven to
earth.

During four days it had snowed
ceaselessly snowed in great flakes
and tiny ones, sometimes vehemently,
sometimes slowly almost remorse-
fully, and then again with a stinging
violence of wind that whipped the
flakes into eddies, tearing the skin
from one's face. The rocks in the
clearing had changed from grotesquely
palled monsters to tiny islands above
the depths of whiteness; the pines,
whose tops disappeared in the vague-
ness, were steeped in snow half-way

to their branches. Their bark was like
delicate flesh flesh, the veins of
which were white instead of blue so
fine a pattern of tracery had been
driven in by the wind. The color
scheme that came to Hampton's tor-
tured eyes was one of greys and whites
the grey of the slag-colored rocks
and trees, the white of the malignant
snow. With a groan he turned away
from the window.

The room inside, a rough-boarded,
low-eaved structure, odorous of stale
sleep and life, was in the utmost dis-
order. Its floor was littered with
clothing, boots, broken axe-hasps, to-
bacco ash, and other articles consid-
ered by the lumbermen to be necessary
for happiness and usefulness. On the
right were built-in bunks, whose mat-
tresses and dirty blankets sprawled out
of their receptacles. In the center of
the room was a pine table, hemmed in
by unplaned benches. On the table
were greasy dishes, half-eaten food,
and tobacco refuse ; the whole shuffled
together as though an attempt had
been made to clear a space. At the
end of the room was a great stove,

THE RAT.

117

across whose red-hot surfaces danced
heat radiations, and whose plates quiv-
ered whenever a gust of wind swept
down the chimney. Around the stove,
and bent forward, as if to absorb the
heat before it was lost in the room's
chilliness, sat three men the men of
Hampton's crew.

A unique group they were. There
was Vanois, a little French-Canadian:
Kanak, the men called him. Small he
was in fact, shriveled to a degree that
made him resemble a sun-dried piece
of birch-bark but he had a look that
suggested capability and an immense
and icy will-power. His leathery face
was almost expressionless, but from
behind this mask peered out piggy lit-
eyes eyes which seemed to be always
searching for something that the soul
behind them never found. No one had
ever seen Kanak laugh, but when he
smiled the lines of his face would
pucker themselves until his mouth
looked like an old scar. He impressed
one as monstrously evil, and yet much
of the repulsion this must have caused
was lost in his very calmness and
equanimity. It was his boast that he
rarely lost his temper "But eef I do,
my freens," he would add: "Watch,
watch!"

Varney was the second man of the
group. He was a ponderous, knotty
fellow, one of the best cutters in camp.
He moved and talked slowly, almost
wearily. The simplest mental processes
were to him compex, yet he had been
known to find a way through a blind
wood in total darkness, avoiding the
dangerous places with uncanny in-
stinct. He had an elephantine and
good-natured sense of humor a sense
of humor that was exasperating in its
very obstinacy. He was a man of
terrible strength : he could take a raw
potato and squeeze it until it oozed out
between his fingers. In short, his ner-
vous organism was of the lowest; he
was more of an ox than a man.

Yerger was the last of the crew. Tall,
lean and English, he looked what he
was, a broken-down soldier of fortune.
He had been cowboy, miner, East-
India man, and, some said, safe-

cracker. His hair was light, as were
his eyes ; his nose, an eagle's beak. If
one had taken a cloth and wrapped it
around his face below the nose, the
vivid strength of his lineaments would
have leaped out. If one had then re-
moved the cloth, revealing his chin
and mouth, the illusion of formidable-
ness would have disappeared. The
lips were thick, sensual, almost negro-
like ; the jaw, intensely weak, as though
a hand had been brushed across it
when the clay was still soft. He had a
punctiliousness of manner and speech,
though he could descend to the foul-
ness of a fish-wife. There was an air
of decayed gentility about him that,
despite the raggedness of his clothes,
made him seem to have just stepped
down from some courtly portrait.

Hampton, though the chief, was the
. youngest of all. It was his first winter
away from a northern college, and by
virtue of an influential uncle, he had
received the position he now occupied
and with which he was by no means
satisfied. The work was monotonous
and exhausting, and unrelieved by any
tinge of romance. The bitter toil
stifled his youth, and changed his us-
ually effervescent spirit to sullenness.
As yet he was not quite certain of his
men. He lacked ease with them a
proper dignity that belongs to the man
who gives an order. The fact that they
were forced to obey him seemed pure-
ly conventional; he was not truly a
leader.

As the time of their imprisonment
by the storm had passed, the men's at-
titude had changed. The first day had
been a jovial one. Their release from
work had had its effect and the four
had played scampering games like
children. This had been a mistake on
Hampton's part: it had weakened the
authority in his hands.

On the second day, the spirit of the
storm, slowly but surely bitten in. be-
gan to obtrude itself. Their joviality
had become more that of the practical
joker, and usually Varney had been
the butt. The big woodsman had taken
everything with such exasperating
good humor as to be truly irritating.

118

OVERLAND MONTHLY

They had worked venomously to make
him lose his temper, and instead had
lost their own.

On the third day had come the long
silences of smothered irritability. The
men had spent their time around the
stove, leaving it only to eat an occa-
sional and hasty meal.

The fourth day had begun in much
the same manner. The sullenness
was moiling itself into hate hate as
yet inactive. Vanois sat brooding,
silent. Yerger was alternately garru-
lous and irritable. Varney sucked his
empty pipe, making it hiss like an ad-
der with each intake of breath into his
great lungs. A tension had taken hold
of every one. Hampton felt it, and
was frightened. It was like the mo-
ment of expectancy that precedes the
breaking of a storm.

Hampton shuddered, and then to
relieve his straining mind, pulled a
dog-eared pack of cards from his
pocket, pushed back the dishes a little
more, and began to play solitaire. The
room became silent, save for the hiss
of the storm.

"Christ!" said Yerger, suddenly
leaping from his chair, "will this storm
never stop! Snow, snow always
snow!" He relapsed into silence. Va-
nois and Varney seemed not to have
noticed; Hampton glanced nervously
up.

Yerger broke out again "I saw a
man guillotined in Paris. It was pleas-
ant compared to this: They stuck his
head in the block face up; the knife
flashed down and tchkk ," he
made a clucking sound between his
teeth : "That was all."

"Thou hast seen many men out?"
asked Vanois. It was the first time
he had spoken in an hour.

"Yes," said Yerger; "I once saw a
nigger hung. His face was as green
as the back of a dollar-bill, before they
put the cap on him."

Again there was silence.

Varney slowly crossed to the table,
and watched the game over Hampton's
shoulders. As the cards fell from
Hampton's hands, he senselessly
picked them up and grinned. Vanois

joined him, and the two grouped them-
selves behind Hampton. He felt the
cold power of Vanois' stare. His
shoulders shrank before it; he was
quivering from head to foot.

"The cards excite you, my freen?"
said Vanois softly. Hampton knew
that his face was twisted, and that his
mouth was again like the scar. The
silent laughter seemed horrible.

Vanois went to the window and
peered through the curtain of snow.
His curses hissed like water dropping
on hot iron. He was matching his will
against the storm. Varney went back
to the stove as did Vanois. The men
stared at the waves of heat as they
played across the iron.

Night was creeping over the wastes
outside, changing the color of the
flakes from white to grey. The arc of
the clearing was almost invisible now;
the pines were totally gone. The wind
was getting up a dry sibilant wind
that brushed the building like the
touch of a hand.

Nameless fear began to creep into
Hampton's mind. It was intangible
but gripping. He would thrust it down
with a shudder only to have it spring
up again. It was like a mist. Grue-
some tales of the woods returned to
his mind stories of the white horla
with icy flesh and women's faces that
crept about in the silences, of insane
men found in lonely camps. With a
little sob, he buried his face in his
arms. A bloated and scabby rat pulled
itself cautiously out from the wall and
slunk across the room. It began to
nuzzle with little perks the contents
of a spilled plate, its grey skin twitch-
ing horribly.

There was a splitting crash outside
a crash that brought them quivering
to their feet. The rat scuttled to the
wall, and then crept slowly back. The
men realized that a pine, overwhelmed
by the snow, had fallen; but the inci-
dent had deeper significance than this ;
it had somehow caused a restraining
thread to snap in Yerger's brain. Beads
of sweat gathered on his ash-colored
face. His features twitched. His self-
control was swept away, loosing the

THE RAT.

119

tides of emotion. He began to curse
Vanois.

From the very beginning Hampton
felt the nature of the end. He sought
to move, to speak, but was held in a
nightmare-like oppression.

Throughout the tirade, Vanois sat
motionless, his eyes alone betraying
the spirit beneath. Yerger's invectives
became coarser, until he seemed to
spew them forth. At last he sank back
into the chair, shaking like a man in
a fit. Varney's muscles were tense;
Hampton laughed hysterically.

Slowly Vanois raised himself, his
small body bent forward. He spat in-
to Yerger's face.

The next few seconds were as part
of a disjointed dream to Hampton. He
saw Yerger's spring and heard the dull
sound of fist against flesh. Varney,
flaying his great arms, threw himself
upon the two contestants. The three
fell in a heap, Vanois vainly reaching
for his knife. The rat, its retreat cut
off, fled to the other side of the room,
where it squeaked piteously.

Something in the creature's sham-
bling retreat seemed to Hampton's dis-
ordered mind, intensely amusing. He
rushed to Varney, whose hands were
already at Vanois' throat.

"Catch the rat!" he screamed;
"Catch the rat!"

With a roar of laughter, the giant
rose lumberingly to his feet, and fol-
lowed by Yerger and Hampton, rushed
across the room. The rat, squeaking
and clawing, ran to and fro. Its dashes
for liberty failed; the hunters, madly
laughing, drove it from corner to cor-
ner. At last Varney pinned the animal
under his boot. Slowly and with in-
finite gusto, he began to tear the
squealing thing to ribbons, mouthing
incoherent words as he did so. Blood

splashed over his hands and fell in
dark splotches, upon the floor. Yer-
ger and Hampton danced about him
like bacchanals at an altar of sacrifice.

Vanois had picked himself up, and
now leaned panting against the table,
his knife in hand. With a circular mo-
tion of his arm he sent it speeding for
Yerger's breast. It sank home, and
Yerger fell in a heap upon the floor.
A few aimless motions, and he was
still.

Varney turned, the shreds of the
rat still in his hands. Probably in his
mind was dimly the thought that Yer-
ger should be avenged. He leaped the
table, and in an instant had Vanois by
the throat. Backward he bent the little
man until his spine snapped. He
tossed him aside and turned to Hamp-
ton.

There followed a horrible game
a game between Hampton and Varney.
Like a bear pursuing a weasel, the two
went around and around the table.
Hampton was alternately screaming
and laughing; Varney made not a
sound. The lamp was overturned, and
in its fall, the shade and chimney were
broken, making it a terrible and jagged
weapon.

By it Hampton halted, and as his
pursuer sprang at him, swung it with
all his strength. The blow struck
squarely home, cleaving Varney's fore-
head in a terrible wound. The giant
fell across the table, his head and
body among the dishes.

Hampton sank down in a chair at
the end of the table. His giggling
laughter gradually subsided ; the room,
lit only by the red glow of the stove,
grew still. From the wall a rat crept
out. Cautiously and with little wrig-
gling motions of its nose, it began to
snuff at Vanois' face.

Silver Fox

By Alice Phillips

IT WAS a wonderful night for hunt-
ing. The moon rose full in the
Western sky, and the glittering
stars showered their brilliant rays
upon the frosty air, when Silver Fox
stole forth from his den in the hill-
side. Like a silvery shadow, he glided
along the moonlit way, while the little
owls chattered warningly from the for-
est grove. Alas, their warning was to
his grief! A hunter who had recently
trapped a beautiful silver specimen in
that region had also been on the watch
near this particular den, in hopes of
securing the young cubs. And when
Silver Fox appeared in full view he
fired, wounding the little fellow in the
hind leg. But instead of fleeing for
his life, the baby fox rolled over and
over, crying so piteously that the cruel
man's heart was touched. He picked
up the little ball of silver fur and
bound up the wound with his handker-
chief. The trapper understood the
tricks of a fox. In captivity they are
as quiet and docile as a house cat. The
little cub continued to pant with pain
and fright, but made no attempt to
escape, and the man carried it home.
Silver Fox was kept and nursed till
the wounded leg became well and
strong, and he was the pet of the
house. He frisked about everywhere,
and learned to do several funny little
tricks. A favorite stunt of his was to
sit up on the kitchen stool and drink
his saucer of milk. But all wild ani-
mal pets get cross and venturesome
in time, and Silver Fox was no ex-
ception. He snarled when his master
came near, and the lady of the house
decided it was no longer safe to keep
the fox around the children. There
was talk of hydrophobia, and the man
sat long in the night, smoking pipe af-
ter pipe, but reaching no conclusion as
to his pef s disposal. A circus mana-

ger had offered him a hundred dollars
for the cub, but its fur alone was
worth a fortune. Should he kill and
skin it as he had done its mother?
Somehow of late the hunter had neg-
lected his traps somehow he could
not bring himself to slay the beautiful
wild creature of the forest. And was it
all on account of Silver Fox? He
groaned and turned in to bed with the
decision that he would sell "the cussed
thing" alive to the furrier!

But the moon rose full that night,
the stars glittered, and glistened in the
frosty sky, and Silver Fox stole forth
from his home. Down the moonlit
road he frisked and trotted. Out in the
deep forest the owls were calling, and
far up the hillside his mates were
awaiting his return.

No attempt was made to track the
pet fox next day, although the hunter's
wife scolded and called him a fool for
letting so much money slip by.

Silver Fox before he fled to the wild

A Study of Wild Northern Ducks

By P. H. Sidney

ABOUT thirty years ago I made
a halibut fishing trip to Ice-
land; and we happened to ar-
rive there just at the time the
eider ducks were nesting. During the
nesting period the ducks are very tame
and flock to the shores of the island
by the thousands to lay their eggs and
hatch.

They build their nests everywhere,
in the sand and on the turf roofs of the
houses; the ducks pluck some of the
down from their breasts to line the
nests with. The eider ducks in Iceland
are protected by law, and no one is
allowed to shoot them.

An eider duck lays eleven eggs be-
fore beginning to hatch. The Iceland-
ers rob the nests every day, and keep
the ducks laying until the first of July,
when they allow the ducks to have
their litter ; and by the first of August
the ducklings are hatched, and the
bays and inlets of the island are alive
with the ducks and their broods swim-
ming in the water a very pretty sight
to look upon.

During the nesting period egg spec-
ulators come from all over Europe to
buy duck eggs.

The eider duck (Somateria dresseri)
is about twenty-three inches long; the
male is white in the upper part of his
body, except the crown of his head,
with a greenish white line running into
it from behind, and a greenish tinge
on the feathers at the sides of the back
of the head. Upper breast is white,
with a reddish blush ; lower breast and
all parts including tail above and be-
low, black.

Female.

The upper parts of the body are buff
brown, streaked and varied with

darker brown and black, the back be-
ing the darkest; breast yellow buff
barred with black, shading into gray-
ish brown, slightly margined with buff
underneath.

Their nesting ranges from Iceland to
Nova Scotia and Labrador; wintering
in the Great Lake country and New
England, very rarely moving as far
south as Delaware.

When sleeping under down cover-
lets on cold winter nights, or comfort-
ably tucked with pillows on the sofas
of our drawing rooms, do any of us
give any thought to the duck that has
been robbed of her down for our com-
fort?

The Icelanders always take a good
part of the down the ducks line their
nests with when they rob the nests of
eggs. The ducks pluck the down from
their breasts to line their nests.

The eider is a deep diver, and keeps
well out at sea ; and comes to the more
thickly populated latitudes only when
people have ceased boating for pleas-
ure, consequently we do not know as
much about the habit of this bird as
we might.

The principal mission of the eider
seems to be diving for sea mussels and
other food, and which the saddle-back
gull often snatches away no sooner
the duck reaches the surface.

Before the ducks leave for their
northern breeding grounds in March,
courting has already begun, and many
sharp contests take place. The van-
quished and superannuated males do
not migrate northward with the mated
couples. The eider drake helps his
mate build her nest of moss and sea-
weed, and even plucks down from his
own breast to line the nest. The eggs
are of a bluish olive gray color.

Aug-3

122

OVERLAND MONTHLY

The average yield of down from an
eider's nest in Iceland is about one-
sixth of a pound. The gathering of
these "live feathers," as they are
called, is an important industry in the
northern countries of Europe, but
shamefully neglected and mismanaged
on this side of the Atlantic. The fea-
thers of the eider lose their elasticity
if taken from dead birds, consequently
the down gathered from the nests is
most valuable.

Audubon' found large colonies of
eider ducks nesting in Labrador in
April, and gathered some fresh eggs
for food in the month of May. He
found both ravens and gulls prowling
around the nesting places, sucking
eggs and carrying off ducklings.

While the females are nesting the
males retire to some quiet place and
moult, which leaves them so bare of
feathers in July they are hardly able
to fly. From this time until mating
time again the males and females live
apart, the females in small flocks of
mothers with their broods, and the
males by themselves.

The southern migration begins
about the middle of August, the ducks
flying swiftly in a direct course, close
to the water, but never over the land.

Iceland is the only country where
the eider ducks are protected by law;
it is too valuable a bird to be killed,
and the egg and down industry brings
a very tidy income to the hardy,
thrifty Icelanders.

The Whistler Ducks, or American
Golden-eye (Glaucionetta clan-
gula americana.)

The Whistler are from seventeen to
twenty inches long.

Male The head and throat are
short and dark, feathers glossy green,
round white space at the base of the
bill, breast, neck and greater part of
the wings white, wing linings dusky,
rest of plumage black. Orange col-
ored feet with dusky webs, black or
blackish green bill, with large nostrils,
iris bright golden.

Female. Much smaller than the
male, snuff colored head and throat

lacking white space near the bill, fore-
neck white, upper parts brownish
black, under parts white, shading into
gray, on sides and upper breast, which
wave with gray or brown, speculum
white, less white on wings and other
parts of body than male, bills vari-
able.

The whistlers range all over North
America, wintering in the United
States and Cuba. It is also a spring
and summer migrant in the United
States.

The Indians of the Fraser Valley
tell a story of two men in one of their
tribes, who began a discussion of what
caused the whistling noise produced
by these ducks. Was it produced by
the wings or by the air rushing through
the nostrils.

The discussion soon became gen-
eral, other members of the tribe join-
ing in. As is usual in such arguments
there were two sides; and in a short
time several members of the tribe tried
to enforce their opinions with their
knives and tomahawks. The result was
the whole tribe became involved in a
free fight, and according to Allan
Brooks, the majority of the warriors
were killed without settling the ques-
tion, reminding us of the recent Bol-
sheviki peace proceedings.

American naturalists claim that the
whistling noises are produced by the
wings. The whistler, in spite of his
short body and small wings, covers
enormous distances at an amazing rate
of speed, Audubon claiming this duck
can fly at the rate of ninety miles per
hour.

The whistlers nest in a stump or a
hollow tree by the rivers of the far
north, and covers her large litter of
pale bluish eggs with down from her
breast. The males do not share the
nesting duties; but join with other
males, who live by themselves through
the summer.

The fully webbed feet of the whist-
lers make them powerful swimmers
and divers, but interferes with their
progress on land, which they rarely
visit. Their flesh is rank, fishy and
tough, consequently these ducks are

A STUDY OF WILD NORTHERN DUCKS

123

not much sought after as food. This
being the case, whistlers very often
winter very near ciivilization. For sev-
eral years a flock of whistlers has win-
tered in the Charles River, near the
North Station in Boston, swimming
around in the basin unmindful of the
trains passing over the bridge or the
railroad employees working right
close to them. These little birds cer-
tainly enliven the landscape after all
the other birds have migrated south-
ward for the winter.

Barrow's Golden Eye, or Whistler
(Glaucionetta islandica), a more north-
ern species, that is often seen on the
Pacific Coast, may scarcely be told
from the common whistler either in
features or habits. These ducks in-
vest the salmon cannery regions and
gorge themselves on decaying fish.
Allan Brooks writes that their note is
a hoarse croak. Charles Bonaparte
named it the clangula for the same
reason. Brooks says that in the mat-
ing season the males utter a peculiar
mewling cry.

Wood Duck (Aix sponsa.}

Length seventeen to nineteen inches.
Also known as Summer Duck, Bridal
Duck, Widgeon, Tree, Acron and
Wood Duck.

The male has an elongated crest,
golden cheeks, with metalic green and
purple iridescence, white line from
base of the bill to over and behind the
eye, another behind it to the end of
the crest, breast rich reddish chestnut
spotted with white, white underneath,
shading into yellowish grey on sides,
which are marked with waving lines
of black, white markings on long fea-
thers back of the flanks, on the sides.
Upper parts dark, iridescent and pur-
plish, greenish brown, white and black
crescent in front of wings, which are
glossed with purple and green and
tipped with white, wing patch purplish
blue edged with white spot at either
side of base of tail, chestnut purple.
Bill pinkish, red at base, black under-
neath and on ridge and tip. Yellow
legs.

Female. Smaller than the male,
crest and wing markings more restrict-
ed, dusky head, purple crown, white
breast, greyish brown sides, streaked
with buff; white underneath. Olive
brown back glossed with purple and
green. Young drakes resemble the
female.

North American range chiefly in the
United States, breeding throughout the
range, wintering in the south.

This is the most beautiful of all
ducks; and some naturalists claim of
all other birds. Many people think
that Linnaeus named the bride
(sponsa), although it is the groom
that is particularly attractive and fes-
tive. The wood duck is an independ-
ent little creature, with a way of its
own of doing things. For example it
nests in trees, rather than on the
ground, and walks about on the limbs
like any song birds. This is a rather
musical duck, for it never quacks, but
has a musical call of its own. When
they are mating they never cease to
be lovers.

The birds arrive from the south in
April already mated, and spend the
summer in the north. They select an
abandoned owl's nest, and line it with
leaves. Then the squat little mother
proceeds to lay from eight to fourteen
eggs. While the mother sets, the
drake faithfully stands guard in a
neighboring tree in order to warn her
of any danger.

When the ducklings are hatched, the
mother carries them to the water. Gen-
erally the nest is in a tree overhanging
the water; then all the mother has to
do is to tumble the babies overboard.
In case the tree stands back from the
water's edge, she carries them one by
one in her bill to the water and starts
them off, while the proud father swims
around guarding them jealously.

In July the drake withdraws to
moult, while the duck looks after the
family alone. The drake returns from
his moulting period in September bril-
liantly marked and closely resembling
the duck. All this time the young
birds have been shedding their down
and growing feathers like their

124

OVERLAND MONTHLY

mother's. This makes the whole fam-
ily resemble each other.

The only time the wood ducks as-
semble in flocks is in autumn, when
the southern migration begins.

The wood duck is too beautiful a
bird to be killed for food. "Its eco-

nomic value is too small/' says Geo.
O. Shields. "I would as soon think
of killing and eating a scarlet tanager
or a Baltimore oriole. And I hope to
see the day when the wood duck will
enjoy the protection of song birds all
over the United States and Canada."

GOLD STRIPES

A Canadian Mother Speaks.

My Bert ? as just come 'ome again ; 'e walks a little lame,
But thank the Lord 'e's got 'is eyes, 'is face is just the same ;
I'm that glad the shrapnel miss'd it, I could look at 'im all day,
Though I'd love 'im just as dearly if the 'alf was shot away.
'E ain't so reg'lar 'andsome, and 'e ain't so ugly, too,
But just an average looker, the same as me and you.
And there's not a prouder woman in Alberta, I believe,
When I go out walkin' with "im, with the gold stripes on 'is
sleeve.

There's one 'e says 'e got by bein' just a bloomin' fool ;
Fair mad 'e was that day the Boches bombed an infant school.
There was cover for the takin', but 'e couldn't stop to take it;
Through blood and tears 'e saw their line, and knew 'e 7 ad to

break it.

The other times, 'e says, 'twas just 'is duty that 'e done,
And, once, I know, the orficers they thank'd 'im one by one.
So every day I thank the Lord for what we do receive,
When I walk with Bert in khaki, with the gold stripes on 'is

sleeve.

FLORENCE A. VICARS.

The Path of Silence

By F. A. Pettee

I HAD always had a predilection
for globe-trotting. I suppose it
was because my great-grand-
mother came from Andalusia.
Certainly our ancestral relics seemed
to come from everywhere but the
moon. I had dipped into many a fad,
from Hindoo palimpsests to second
thigh-bones, from marvelously carved
Tanagrae to bulbs. And the most dis-
astrous of all was bulbs.

I had picked up an African Zicata-
nus, which was said to blossom in jade
green and chrome, strangely varie-
gated; I had found on the banks of
the Amazon a very rare orchis Gitan-
gis, which looked when blossomed like
a topsy-turvy umbrella of the Emperor
of Siam; but it remained for Wade
Travis to bring me from Singapore a
specimen bulb which was absolutely
beyond me. Moreover, after an ar-
duous search in many a bibliography
devoted to the rarest species that
greenish-red clot of roots which he
brought home was simply unmentioned
everywhere. He had it in a steel box,
locked in. This impressed me as sin-
gular. But Travis was a bit of a dab-
bler, and indulged in strange whims.

"What do you make of it, Gre-
sham?" he demanded.

"I bent over to the coffined bulb. It
reminded me of a minute octopus, only
its tantacled roots showed three claw-
like antennae on their ends. It gave
forth a dank, unpleasant odor like
putrified flesh.

"How did you come by it?" I par-
ried, as I took out my magnifying-
glass and put it under a powerful nit-
rogen bulb in my workshop.

He was unusually curt in his re-
sponse. "Do you remember Naham
Greenich?" he asked.

"Crank on dope, drugs and queer
poisons," I itemized; "rather a genius
along those lines. Why? Say," I in-
terrupted myself, for I had been study-
ing this strange specimen while I had
answered him, "did you jolt the table
then? I fancied those tentacle roots
moved a bit."

He looked at me strangely. "No,"
he said. "I wasn't touching the table.
Maybe a draught "

"Pooh!" I retorted. "Why, that bulb
is protected by the walls of your steel
box, and the roots are flat with the
bottom."

"About Geenich," he continued, as
though flecking aside my imagination,
"it was he who discovered the source
of this bulb, which he called Carrio-
nia. And Greenich was found dead
the day he brought this one back."

"Heart failure?" I queried. "He
was always rather embonpoint."

"No," was the slow reply. "Greenich
did not die of heart failure."

"What the deuce do you mean?" I
explaimed.

"I mean," he said significantly, "that
three of the roots of this bulb, found
crushed in his pocket under him, were
clinging to his side like leeches."

"Pooh?" I scoffed, peering down at
the sinister bulb. "That's not strange,
since they ooze a sticky, reddish fluid."

"Ah," he said, "they didn't simply
stick. They had burrowed, gnawed
their way through his clothing, and
those finger-like tips had grazed the
skin. Greenich died very suddenly,
and the coroner said: 'Causes Un-
known.' "

"A coincidence, that's all," I as-
sured him. "When he fell, striking on
the pocket which held the bulb, natu-
rally the force of his fall drove those

126

OVERLAND MONTHLY

sturdy, sharp-pointed roots through
his clothing."

Travis drummed the table, whistling
nervously. "Well/' he said finally,
"there is no man now alive who knows
as much as you about queer bulbs. I
brought it for you to add to your col-
lection. But, remember, I have
warned you "

I laughed heartily. "You're a bit un-
strung by Greenich's sudden death."

"I am," he admitted. "And don't you
think, it will look just as well in your
collection if you keep it in that box
that I had made especially?"

Again I laughed facetiously. "Why,
man," I said jovially, "I'm going to cut
it back and plant it. Maybe its blos-
som is worth a fortune."

"Or something more precious," he

observed sinisterly, as he left me.
* * * *

Of course, I was anxious to plant
my fortune at once. I swung back to a
cabinet, stocked with many vials, and
brought out a glass of alcohol. From
a drawer I took my specially made
powerful microscope and cleaned it
thoroughly with the alcohol. I left the
bottle cabinet open slightly, so that
the pungent odor of many chemicals
struck my nose not unpleasantly. Then
I placed the tripod feet of the huge
microscope over the steel box.

The tubular roots with their three-
tined ends were veined heavily, and
the little hair-like antennae were hol-
low. The fluid structure of the veins
appeared brownish under the powerful
light. Very painstakingly I took a
glass spoon of tiny dimensions and
placed a particle of the oozing sub-
stance on a piece of plate glass for ex-
amination. Like Greenich, I had dab-
bled much in little-known poisons.

I wanted to place the sticky fluid in
a solution of pelosis, since that strange
chemical might dissolve this strange
substance into some more workable
form. My bottle of pelosis was on the
lower glass shelf of the cabinet, which
was fitted for some of those first steps
in my various experiments. I swung
about sharply with the little drop on
the glass in my left hand. I put out

this left hand, forgetful of the open
door. Its edge collided with the little
square of glass and whirled the latter
out of my hand, which had been raised
to the height of my throat, and the
glass hit me on the throat directly be-
low the chin. One of its heavy edges,
from the force of the impact, cut a
gash in my throat, and I felt a strange,
prickling sensation. Then, as the
blood trickled down, the bit of glass
fell to the floor, poison side down.

I knew that some of that sticky fluid
had penetrated the cut in my throat.
I dashed for the most powerful anti-
dote against vegetable poison that I
knew, and as I staunched the flow of
blood with one hand, I managed to
turn some of the antidote into a glass
with the other. I gulped it down, feel-
ing momentarily more conscious of
that terrible drawing feeling in the
cords of my throat. As I rushed down
the corridor to my telephone I half-
expected to feel the insidious spread-
ing of that strange feeling now local-
ized to my throat. I knew how quickly
certain powerful poisons acted. I took
down the receiver to summon my phy-
sician.

But as I tried to give the number I
was horrified to find that I could not
speak. Again and again I tried, but it
was like listening for a voice that
would not come. I tore down stairs
to a servant. James stared at me wide
eyed. With shaking fingers, I with-
drew a pencil and a note-book from
my pocket.

"I cannot speak," I wrote. "Call Dr.
Armstrong at once."

As I saw his disappearing back J
was conscious of the sensation of float-
ing. Then I knew no more.

* * * *

"He's coming to," I heard a voice as
if from a great distance.

Dr. Armstrong held my pulse, and
looked down reassuringly. My throat
was swathed in bandages, and the doc-
tor's open medicine case showed hast-
ily withdrawn vials.

I opened my mouth to question, but
no sound came.

"Never mind," he said briskly. "It

SUMMER SONG

127

might have been much worse. You've
had a close shave. As it is, I think
your stroke of paralysis has been con-
fined to the cords of your throat. James
said you'd lost your voice. How did
you get that gash in your throat?"

I sat up weakly, and motioned for
a pencil and a pad. Then I tersely
scrawled my story.

"Impossible'/' he excleimed.

"The proofs are up-stairs," I wrote,
as I stood up shakily.

"I want to see it," he said.

"Keep away from it," I wrote, as he
and James helped me to the scene
which had been nearly fatal.

All the proofs were there, and they
both gingerly looked at the ugly bulb.

"Well/' said Dr. Armstrong, finally,
"all I know is, that you're mighty
lucky. Obviously, it is some powerful
vegetable poison which acts instanta-
neously until it strikes the heart, para-
lyzing certain muscular cords. Its in-
sidious effect begins in the spot where
the poison enters the circulatory sys-
tem. You must have taken in the most
infinistesimal bit, which was localized
in your vocal cords. And you did well
when you took that powerful antidote.

Undoubtedly that helped confine its
effects."

"Won't I ever be able to speak
again?" I wrote.

"Frankly, I don't know. It is a un-
ique case. But we must bury that
thing at once," and he motioned to
the bulb.

I nodded, and James snapped down
the cover, by gingerly poking it into
position with another spoon. Then I
produced the key and they locked it
safely. They carried it out to a near-
by lot, and as the doctor gave instruc-
tions, James dug a grave for the dead-
ly, death-dealing bulb. There it was

interred.

* * * *

It took ten months of treatment by
electricity to restore my benumbed
cords.

When I could hear my voice again
I had long since crossed off from my
list of fads that one which had seemed
most promising. I seemed to hear my
own bumptiously confident words,
"Maybe its blossom is worth a for-
tune." While Travis' voice observed
prophetically, "Or something more
precious."

SUA/AER SONG

There are white moon daisies in the mist of the meadow

Where the flowered grass scatters its seeds like spray,
There are purple orchids by the woodways' shadow,

There are pale dog-roses by the white highway;

And the grass, the grass is tall, the grass is up for hay,
With daisies white like silver and buttercups like gold,

And it's oh ! for once to play through the long, the lovely day,
To laugh before the year grows old!

There is silver moonlight on the breast of the river
Where the willows tremble to the kiss of night,

Where the nine tall aspens in the meadow shiver,
Shiver in the night wind that turns them white.
And the lamps, the lamps are lit, the lamps the glow-worms

Between the silver aspens and the West's last gold.

E. NESBIT.

The Cave Woman

By Lucy /Aillar

BUENOS dios, Senora. Please, I
like it for stop by you tonight,
for my horse bees muy haungry
an' tired, an' me I bees like a
woman mucho lame an' vie jo (old).
I'm comin' back from Quipipe whaur
I been see the fiesta for long time,
mebby one week.

"Se, Senora, I hap have it a good
time si muy better as some folks.
Two garruls, they bees feel muy sorry
them at fiesta, for they lose it mebby
a sweetheart an' never see heem no
more.

"One Injun garrul, she is comin'
from town to fiesta an' makin' some
heap trouble for Rosalie Alta an' her
beau, Zapata Kleach, which bees
thinkin' them to get it maury by'm'by
when fiesta is close, an' Father Ubach
will be comin' to Reservation for bap-
tize littie babys, an' maury it any In-
juns what want it.

"Rosalie Alta bees a fine garrul for
make it a good wife. She is not be
lazy, an' like for be nice, clean, an'
she wash it good her han's when she^is
for slap the tortilla dough thin, thin.
Then she wipe nice from ashes the
hot stones for bake the tortillas on.
She is go down by creek where is grow
the tulies an' rushes an' cuts it some,
makin' a nice broom for sweep an'
keep clean her padrone's camp. She
is sew it the red calico an' maik it a
muy bonita dress, an' brush an' tie it
her hair in red ribbon bow, so Zapata
like to look it at hur when he is comin'
to fiesta.

"Zapata, he is look at hur some
when he is be wit' hur, but he likes
more for look at tortillas an' sowie she
is maik it for heem. He bees beeg
fine mans, an' hees black eyes, fierce
like it the eagle, is grow sof an'

speakin' like when he is look some at
hur, an' when he is look like that at
hur, she is tremble an' lookin' down
shy-like, an' she bees so glad for to
have it these bonito hombre like for to
maury wit it hur. An' Zapata, he
doan' be seem' any othro garrul as hur
till Anita Piune she is come to fiesta.

"Rosalie, she bees a kind, sweet gar-
rul, but only knows it how for cook
somethin' Injunc likes, an' all time
wait on it hur hombre for keep heem
happy an' maik it heem like for stay
by hur.

"Anita, hur bees anothro kind. She
is know mocho smart thing what she is
learn from the Indian school, an' Mrs.
Smith where she bees workin' in the
city for. Anita is know how for read
an' write like Americans they do, an'
she is wear it the bonito thing what
Mrs. Smith gives to hur, when she is
hap worn them plenty hurself. An'
she has learn how for puttin' red paint
an' white paint on hur faces, an' she
roll it hur beeg black eye at all the
mens what she is thinkin' she wants
for to like it hur.

"Anita is tell it Mrs. Smith, where
she bees workin': 'Oh, please, Mrs.
Smith, I like it for go to fiesta at Qui-
pipe. All my people an* frien's they
bees goin' an' I like mocho for go. I
wish for sing an' dance for my little
sistie which has go to spirit Ian', an'
she is cry, an' cry for go toward settin'
sun, she mus' stay whaure is cold an'
dark an' no can go to the bright Ian'
till I'm singin' an' dance an' burn it
the misqua for hur in the house of
dead peoples. Nex' time I go, I will
be muy viejo for no more times do the
Injuns sing, for theys dead as twenty
yeaur.'

"Mrs. Smith she say: 'All right,

THE CAVE WOMAN

129

Anita, you go, an' I will gipe it you
some fine dress, what I doan' want no
more, for wear to fiesta.' An' she is
gip to garrul some dress an 7 one bonito,
shiny red silk dress that is hap beeg
flower all over it; it bees what you,
Senora, call a kimona. An' Mrs. Smith
is fin' it a green silk parasol which she
is gipe to Anita, too. The handle is
lookin' bright like gol' an' fringe bees
on the edge of it. Then, Anita is tak-
in' all these thing, an' go for fiesta
happy glad, for she is know how she
bees more bonita as any Injun garrul
there at fiesta.

"When Anita is come to fiesta, she
is paint hur faces white an' red, an'
put it on the bonito dress an' is go out
for walk for show it hurself. She is
roll it hur eye an' smilin' poco when
she see some fine hombre what she
like for to look at hur. When she is
furs' see Zapata Kleach wow! it is
hit hur heart bad like that. She is
lookin' at no more hombres; she is
only care for to maik Zapata look at
hur. She is stay near all time an' try-
in' for maik it heem leave Rosalie an'
walk somewhere wit hur, Anita.

"Anita is maik Rosalie feel it ver'
sourry, an' she is thinkin' it, Rosalie,
how she is like it mochos for throw
some boiling water on Anita when she
is standin' near cook house, where
Rosalie is helpin' fix it the jerky meat
for dry. Anita is there all time an'
maik it the how you call it? the
'goo-goo eye' at Zapata an' is try for
maik heem come away wit hur.

"Firs' day Zapata, he is only look
long outside of corner of hees eye at
Anita, an' didn't say nottin'; but nex'
day when she is pass an* give it heem
the 'come wit me' look, she bees look-
in* so bonita, dress all in her red ki-
mono an' holdin' it the green parasol
up so proud, he is watchin' hur these
time without care of Rosalie's mad.
Anita is walk slow pass cook-house,
then walkin' back an' smile it so sweet
at Zapata. All while Rosalie is look-
in* the black death at Anita, an' tryin'
for to maik Zapata look at hur instead,
an' eat it some nice thing she is maik
for it heem.

"Zapata he stay for eat, si, but soon
as hees full it up, he is turn roun' an'
followin' Anita to walk with it hur, for
he bees want for to see how she is roll-
in' hur eye an 7 smile it sweet, all for
heem, an' he is like it that, mochos.

"Rosalie she is not follow, for she
mus' stay at cook-house helpin' to
maik it things for eat for feed Injuns
what is comin' long ways over desert
from Yuma for help to dance an' to
sing the dead peoples to the Happy
Lan'.

"Nex' day, an' nex' day is Zapata
go for to walk wit Anita, an' Rosalie
is watchin' them go an' walk so close
together, an' so sourry hur now, for
she is thinkin' no more will Zapata
care to stay by hur an' talk it the
sweet thing in hur ear, or maik it hur
tremble, lookin' so soft out of hees
black eye down to hur. No, he bees
tellin' it all to Anita, an' Anita is gipe
it Rosalie what white mens call it the
'ha, ha.' Then Rosalie is goin' away
by hurself an' cry an' cry all alone;
till one night hur padrone, he bees
call in' hur for to come an' sing it for
hees side, the gamble song for the
peon game.

"You know the peon game, Senora,
where mens are kneelin' down in two
rows before a camp fire an' bet an' bet
all noches for money? The womens
that belongs to the mens mus' sing
it the good luck song for them, so they
can get it the right guess on littie
sticks what uthro mens is holdin' hide
in theys han's, an' so can win it mo-
cho pesos.

"Zapata he bees not play in' on it
the padrone's side; he was play it on
othro side. Rosalie she be sourry for
that, for she wish it mochos to song
the good luck song for hur an' Zapata,
so Anita she can maik it no more
troubles for hur an' Zapata. She is
lookin' 'cross the fire at Zapata wit the
beeg beggin' look in hur eyes, an'
singin' loud, loud the song, but Anita
she bees standin' back of Zapata an'
is sing loud, too, so he don't hear it
hur. Rosalie.

"Soon, Anita is call Zapata from it
the game, an' she an* he is go away

130

OVERLAND MONTHLY

in the dark noches, an' not comin'
back till nex' day.

"Nex' day all Injuns is lookin' for
see where bees Zapata an 7 Anita. Ro-
salie is cry an' moan an' pull it the
ribbon from hur hair, an' is tear it hur
new red calico dress what she is maik
for wear to fiesta an' for to maury hur
Zapata. She is maik it look tumble,
hur, wit it hur hair all tare down an'
dress all spoi. An' she bees runnin'
wild like cow what is lose hur calf,
lookin' for it Zapata an' Anita, an' she
hap it the black murder look in hur
eye.

"One Injun is fin' out an' tellin' it
hur how Zapata an' Anita hap been go
to the Manzanita reservation where is
stoppin' Father Ubach, an' they get it
heem for to maury them.

"Then Rosalie is stop cryin' an*
watchin' hard down reservation trail,
till mos' about sundown she can see
them comin' back, ridin' both on hees
pony. Then is Rosalie standin' still,
still, like tree when no wind is blow,
an' hur face it is go dead when Za-
pata an' Anita come in ridin' on hees
broncho.

"She is sit behind heem, one arm
roun' hees waist, so, an' is hold in
othro han' hur green parasol, so proud.
She is wear the red silk kimona an' is
spread it so bright, all over pony's
back. On her feet she hap put some
socks Mr. Smith hap gip to hur, blue
silk, turrible short, but she bees hap
on some beaded moccosins, too, so she
is thinkin' mebby nobody is goin' to
look it at hur bare legs too mocho.

Anyway Injunc don't care.

"The pony bees comin' trot, trot,
trot, an' hur green umbrella it is goin'
bob, bob, bob, an' Rosalie bees stand-
in' still, still like if she never move
again. But when the pony is for pass
hur, Anita is look down at hur, Rosalie,
an' smile wicked in hur faces. Then
life is come back muy pronto to Rosa-
lie. She is quick gipe one turrible
scream, an' jump for grab Anita an'
pull it hur off of pony's back. She is
tare at Anita's hair, an' scratchin' hur
faces till the blood is cover all over it.
She is pull Anita down in the dirt,
where they bees scratch an' yell an'
scratch it like two bob-cat, an' Rosalie
bees bitin' an' tarin' it the red silk
kimona to littie fine rags. Rosalie is
fight like a dog what is go loco when
days bees hot, an' Anita can't do not-
tin' hur but scream. Injuns bees 'fraid
to touch it hur, Rosalie, for maik let
Anita go.

"Rosalie is tare all clothes off Anita
an' is tramp an' break it the green
parasol, too. Then she is 'member it
Zapata, an* is like for grab an' beat an'
tare it at heem some, but Zapata, he is
put spurs to hees bronc' an' is 'beat it'
away from there fas', fas' as hees
pony can go, an' he don't come back
no more.

"Si, I tell it you, there bees two gar-
ruls at fiesta what knows it the happy
glad no more.

"On reservation the win' is blowin'
it the green rag, an' the red rag, an'
pickin' 'em up for play wit mauny day.
That bees all is lef ' for 'member now."

The Sea Otter in California

By .C L. Andrews

NOT LONG ago there was brought
to the city of San Francisco a
strange animal. It was thick-
bodied, its hind legs were
strong muscled and equipped with
webbed feet, its skin was loose and
baggy, the pelage was soft, long and
beautiful. The animal was pronounced
to be a sea otter, a lone specimen of a
once numerous breed which were
taken by the thousands along those
shores during the opening years of the
last century. The capture of this oc-
casioned much comment, for it had
been considered to be virtually extinct
for nearly half a century on the Cali-
fornia coast, and the finding of this
specimen was as remarkable as was
the killing of a badger in southeastern
Massachusetts within recent years.
How it existed through these interven-
ing decades and eluded the relentless
pursuit that has been waged, is a mys-
tery, although there are rumors of an
occasional otter being seen along the
shores of the islands beyond the Santa
Barbara Channel.

The California sea otter, like the
fur seal of the Farallone Islands, was
lighter in color and poorer in pelage
than its kindred of the colder north-
ern waters, and it was also smaller in
size, according to the accounts of the
Russian fur hunters. Mr. Khlebnikof,
who was for many years the chief of
the counting house at Sitka, and who
was the owner of the Khlenbnikof
farm at Ross, says : "The farther south
the browner grows the skin. The otter
from California are generally smaller,
in the winter they are black, but with
thin fur and without spots. The prin-
cipal advantage of the winter catch is
the better color of the fur and a smaller
number of small skins, as the cubs, or

"medvyedke," go along with the grown
animals." It was found along the
whole coast from the northern boun-
dary to the southern part of the penin-
sula of Lower California.

The animal must have been very
plentiful in the southern part of the
country during the closing years of the
eighteenth century, for Bancroft tells
us in his History of California that the
master of the "Lelia Byrd" purchased
1,600 otter skins in July of 1802, at
San Bias, Mexico. It is not mentioned
whether these were land or sea otter,
but probably consisted of both. The
captains of the American boats who
were along the coast, trading and
smuggling at every opportunity, se-
cured many of the pelts, and during
the next year Commandant Rodriguez,
at San Diego, seized 491 skins from
one Captain Brown of the "Alexan-
der," for being in contraband trade.
These skins must have been taken
from animals which came ashore, or
very close to land, as the Spanish had
few boats and went offshore very little.
There were no such hunting boats
among them as were used by the
Aleuts of the Alaskan coast. That the
sea otter, which is such a shy, land-
avoiding animal in the north at the
present time, was more accustomed to
frequent the land is shown by the ac-
counts of their being taken with las-
soos along the bay of San Francisco
about 1832. Before 1790 there is a
record in the Spanish chronicle's of the
time, of 9,729 skins being taken, of a
value of $87,669, and these were
shipped to China, which was at that
time the great fur market of the world.
The traders of the time made the cir-
cuit of the globe on their voyages,
gathering furs from California to

132

OVERLAND MONTHLY

Alaska, took them to the Chinese cit-
ies, sold them in Canton, and then buy-
ing silks and nankeens, tea and por-
celain, returned by the way of the
Cape of Good Hope to their home
ports.

The limited number of pelts that
were secured from the shore hunting
were soon exhausted, and another
method was adopted to secure them.
October 14, 1803, an American cap-
tain named O'Kean, or O'Cain, his
name is spelled in various ways in the
records of the time, sailed the ship
"Eclipse" into the harbor of St. Paul's
on Kodiak Island. He went to the
chief manager of the Russian Ameri-
can Company, Alexander Andreevich
Baranof, who was in charge of the
whole of the Russian dominions in
America at that time, and told him a
strange story of an island in the far
south where the sea otter were plenti-
ful beyond computation. He asked
that Baranof would furnish him with
a company of his Kodiak hunters, with
their wonderful bidarkas, to hunt in
those seas, and proposed to divide the
catch equally with the Russian com-
pany. Baranof accepted his proposal
and gave him 20 of the decked canoes
of the Aleutian Islands, made of skins
stretched over a light framework,
called bidarkas. Each of these car-
ried two Kodiak men, skillful hunters,
fully equipped for the hunt. These
native hunters were under the direct
leadership of a Russian foreman, or
"peredovchik," named Shutzof.

O'Kean sailed south to San Diego,
then to San Quentin Bay, and hunted
with good success until the following
March, when he returned to Kodiak
and delivered to Baranof 1,100 skins
as the Russian company's part of the
proceeds. In addition to this it was
reported by Shutzof that Captain
O'Kean did much trading along the
coast, by which he secured seven hun-
dred other skins at from $3 to $4 each.

This method of gathering the cov-
eted peltries was not long to remain
the exclusive right of one Yankee
trader, and in May of 1806 Captain
John Winship received 50 bidarkas,

manned by about one hundred Kodiak
men under charge of a trusted em-
ployee of the Russians, named Slobod-
chikof. With these hunters he went
along the coast, sweeping the otter
from the seas, for seldom an animal
escaped that was spied by those keen
eyed hunters from the north, going as
far as Cedros Island, in San Sebastian
Bay, he gathered a rich harvest of fur.
He had a quarrel with Slobodshikof.
The Russian left the ship and bought
a small schooner, the "Nikolai," with
which he went to the Sandwich
Islands. Winship then returned to
Sitka, reaching that place in Septem-
ber of the ensuing year with 4,820
skins as the result of a year and a
quarter of hunting.

Other of the Yankee captains fol-
lowed the example of these. In Oc-
tober of the same year, a Captain
Campbell took 12 bidarkas, with their
crews of hunters, and collected 1,231
animals. The "Derby," under com-
mand of Captain Swift, made a con-
tract for 25 bidarkas with 50 hunters
in 1807, but the result of his cruise is
not known. Captain George W. Ayres
of the "Mercury," hunted in 1808,
leaving Sitka in May, and the share
of the company was 1,040 skins; John
Winship, on the ship "O'Kean," went
out with a hundred hunters, and his
catch was 5,452 ; Captain Nathan Win-
ship, of the "Albatross," left in Octo-
ber, 1810, and brought on return 1,120
as the result of his voyage. In the
following year there were three ships
which were supplied with these skilfull
hunters. The "Amethyst," under Cap-
tain Thomas Meek; the "Ekaterina,"
commanded by Captain Blanchard;
and the "Isabella," sailing under Cap-
tain Wm. Davis, all from the shores of
New England. So many of the trad-
ing ships of that day were from Boston
that the synonym for American on the
Northwest Coast came to be "Boston
Man;" while the Englishmen were
known as "King George Men." These
three ships gathered 5,934 skins, of
which Meek took 1,442; Blanchard,
1,516; and Davis, 2,976. By this time
the richest part of the harvest had been

THE SEA OTTER IN CALIFORNIA

133

gathered, the animals were declining
in number, and it was 1813 before the
"Charon 7 ' sailed under Captain Whit-
temore, the last one of the Yankee
ships to take a bidarka fleet to hunt
off the California coast. His catch was
1,792 skins, with which he returned to
Sitka to bring home the hunters, and
to deliver to the Russians the share
due them.

One of the terms of the contract was
that any of the hunters who might be
lost on the voyage, either by any one
of the many dangers attendant upon
that perilous employment of hunting
on the open ocean in the frail skin
canoes, or by capture by the Spanish,
would be paid for upon return. The
sum to be paid varied with different
ships, usually being about 200 pias-
tres, and was to be applied to the
keeping of the family of the lost.

The Russian American Company
were too much alive to the profits of
the voyages to allow a monopoly of
the industry to go to the Yankee skip-
pers while they controlled the only
hunters who were really effective in
securing these animals. In 1808, Bara-
nof's assistant, and trusted associate,
Kuskof, sailed for the California coast
in the Russian schooner "Nikolai/'
having on board 200 bidarkasj and
their Kodiak crews, the hunters being
under charge of Slobodchikof. The
results were 1,700 skins with which
Kuskof returned to Sitka. He then
fitted out the ship "Kodiak" and sailed
for the south on September 20th of the
same year. Reaching Bodega in De-
cember, he hunted until August of the
next year, when he went north with
1,900 of the coveted furs.

The American shipmasters did not
confine themselves to the collecting of
sea otter alone, on the California
coast. At the time the captains of the
"Albatross" and the "Isabella" sailed
on their southern voyages they were
interested in taking fur seals from the
Farallones, where, in those days, was
one of the great fur seal rookeries of
the northern hemisphere. It is re-
corded in the annals of the time that
Captain William Smith, who was the

mate of the "Albatross/' went to the
Farallones in 1808 with a party of Ko-
diak natives, and in the course of two
years took 130,000 fur seals; Captain
Gale took 33,740 in 1810; 21,153 in
1811; and Captain Brown took 18,509;
a total of 203,402 in four years.

The Russians were desirous of se-
curing some of this booty, and, al-
though the richest of the plunder had
been gathered, they set about estab-
lishing a station for making use of the
remainder. In January of 1811 Kuskof
again sailed for the California coast,
reached Bodega in February, sent a
fleet of 22 bidarkas into San Francisco
Bay, where they secured 1,160 otter
and 78 yearlings. The Spanish re-
sented their presence in the bay and
endeavored to drive them away, but
were unsuccessful until they hit on the
expedient of guarding the springs,
where they secured fresh water. Dur-
ing his stay Kuskof selected a location
for the Russian fort, then went to Sitka
to procure the supplies for the estab-
lishment.

The settlement of Ross was finished
in June of 1812, and from this as a
base the hunters searched the coast
for the furs. In this hunting they took
skins as follows: From 1812-1814,
877; in 1815, 153; 1816, 97; 1817, 55;
1818, 13; 1819 (including Ilmen
Island), 71; 1820, 22; 1821, 35; 1822-
3, 43; a total of 1,366, of which 255
were yearlings. The ships coming
from Sitka to Ross captured, in 1822.
from the brig "Volga," 15; in 1823, the
brig "Buldakof," 46; the brig "Volga,"
41. Some of these were taken on the
Farallones, where some fur seals were
also taken during a period of several
years. The otter had practically
passed from the sea along the upper
coast before 1820, and of this the
Russian writer, Tikhmenef , says : "In
1817 the sea otter from Trinidad Bay
to the Bay of San Antonio (near the
mouth of the Bay of San Francisco)
were entirely removed." The fur seal
had also been exterminated by the
same date, according to this authority.

The only places in which the sea
otter remained in 1823 were the pro-

134

OVERLAND MONTHLY

tected bays over which the Spaniards
had control. Baranof had endeavored,
during his administration, to get per-
mission from the Spanish authorities
to hunt in the bays upon payment of a
certain share of the proceeds to the
Californian government. This was re-
fused, but in 1823 the negotiations of
Chief Manager Mouravief were more
successful. An agreement was made,
under which during the years from
1823 to 1826 the Aleut and Kodiak
hunters under the Russian American
Company took 2,039 skins in the bay
of San Francisco, San Pedro, Monterey
and other places. Of these skins, one
was made a present to the Californian
Governor, the Californian government
received 857, and the Russians took
1,181.

The animals were nearly extinct
along the whole coast at this time.
The whole number taken is not known,
but must have been large. Sir George
Simpson, in his Journey Round the
World, in 1841-2, estimated the catch
of the Russians in California to have

been 80,000. In his position as Gov-
ernor of the Hudson's Bay Company
he should have had a good knowledge
of the fur trade, but the Russian rec-
ords do not bear out his estimate. The
whole number authentically recorded
is between 35,000 and 40,000, includ-
ing the catch of the American boats,
and the share of the Spanish in the
Russian hunting. Of these the Rus-
sians had between fifteen and sixteen
thousand, 15,337 to use the record of
the Russian writers.

A few animals remained in shel-
tered localities and in 1832 hunting
licenses were issued by the Califor-
nian government, under which a few
were taken. A small colony was on the
Bay of San Francisco, at Sonoma
Creek, it is said, in which General
Vallejo took an especial interest, and
by whom they were protected and pre-
served for some years. In 1847, how-
ever, this last community of the ani-
mals was broken up, and from that
time sea otter has been practically ex-
tinct along the California coast.

BLACK-BIRDS IN AUTU/AN

Autumn walks the wood-paths, laughing with the west wind,
Arms filled with asters and gentians airy-blue ;

The rooks are flying over, chaffing with this best wind
The trees are caravansaries for the gipsy crew.

Black-birds trill sweet in the glowing by-paths

A last good-by to summer, then flash on pilgrim wing
All down the cloud-ways and all down the sky-paths

To the golden sun-lands to come again with spring.
Along the woodland edge I hear the splash of sunlit water,

Where, slowly dropping from ahigh, the leafy shallops float
And there, a form of misted-gold, the round year's fairest
daughter,

Wild autumn, it right merrily trips to the black-bird's linger-
ing note!

VERNE BRIGHT.

A Ainer and His Wild Pets

By J. B. Reinhart

A FEW years ago a miner and en-
gineer took charge of a hoist
and engine in a tunnel two hun-
dred feet straight in from sur-
face. Here was cut in the solid rock
a station with a vent to the surface
three hundred feet for air and smoke.
This hoist went to levels deep down
from which gold ore was hoisted to the
upper tunnel; thence to the surface
and a ten stamp mill.

My story has to do with Watchman
Smith and his pets.

Smith always blew the whistle at
this station for 12 o'clock, night. He
went on shift at 6 p. m. Twelve o'clock
midnight was lunch time, one hour, for
all men at work in the mine.

This tunnel had a big square lantern,
20x20 in., a glass facing the entrance,
and with the reflected bright light it
attracted all kinds of insects, beetles,
bugs and the like that bumped against
the glass.

Smith was a new man. The first
night he lit the big lamp he discovered
a new cobweb built so close to the
door that he was compelled to destroy
it in order to clean and light the lamp.
In the background he saw a big black
spider; it ran viciously at him as he
brushed away the web. Smith was a
sort of philosopher, and he became in-
terested to learn if the spider would
know and realize how and what it
meant to spin a web in that particular
place.

As soon as the web was destroyed,
out came the spider, and went at spin-
ning a new web, with long lines from
the lagging of ceiling and sides of the
tunnel. Smith took special interest of
the knowing insect's work, as he no-
ticed on measurement that the spider
had shifted the web back three inches

from its former place. The spider kept
at his work, and before the cleaning
of the lamp came again, Mr. Spider
had finished a beautiful piece of web
work about 4x4 in. in size.

Smith became more interested than
ever, as he was forced again to destroy
all this intricate and beautiful work.
It stood until next day; then, of neces-
sity, it was brushed away. The spider
seemed to be very angry, and made
repeated attempts to bite Smith's hand.

After this destruction the spider
again took up the work, and on meas-
uring the distance, he found it was
three inches farther away. So the
spider was allowed to again finish the
web, just as beautiful as the former
mesh. Its exact measurements were
just the same as the others.

So this work of necessary destruc-
tion and rebuilding went along until
the spider had builded nine webs. The
last web was three inches clear of the
door, when Smith opened it for light-
ing and cleaning. Naturally, Smith
was greatly amazed at the wonderful
reasoning of this common black spi-
der, and he decided to undertake a
more extended acquaintance with the
persistent intruder. Smith always sat
in front of the lamp on a keg, with
his lunch pail between his knees. He
saw the spider intently watching him,
and he took a little speck of honey on
a tine of his fork and reached it near
the spider and left it on the web. Af-
ter a time the spider came carefully
out of his web, and evidently enjoyed
the sweet.

The next night the same thing oc-
curred, and so night after night, and
when the big whistle blew, spider
"Tom" came out on his web on that
signal night after night. After a

136

OVERLAND MONTHLY

month the spider used to drop down
to Smith's knee, and there take his
sweets with his friend while he ate
lunch. This singular friendship con-
tinued for over two years. Always
the sweet was there, and always Smith
had a companion.

After this had gone on six months,
a mouse appeared one night at 12
o'clock. So Smith, by careful placing
of tid-bits, called the mouse out, and
after a little time the mouse ate on his
knee. These little lunches at mid-
night down deep in the mine came to
be regular, and always happened as
the big whistle blew. For over two

years this was a regular happening.

Then Smith went away on a two
weeks' vacation. On his return his
first question was to find out how his
two pets were getting along.

"Oh," replied the man, "the spider
ran up me knee, an' I thought he was
goin' to bite me, so I killed him, an' of
course I killed the mouse too."

Smith, in a rage, shot out his fist and
knocked the man down, and later was
fired for laziness.

Smith took up his old rounds in the
mine again, and in time he taught an-
other mouse to feed on his knee, as
did the other one.

GIFTS OF THE DEAD

Ye who in Sorrow's tents abide,

Mourning your dead with hidden tears,

Bethink ye what a wealth of pride

They've won you for the coming years.

Grievous the pain; but, in the day
When all the cost is counted o'er.

Would it be best that ye should say :
"We lost no loved ones in the war?"

Who knows ? But proud then shall ye stand
That best, most honored boast to make :

"My lover died for his dear land,"

Or, "My son fell for England's sake."

Christlike they died that we might live ;

And our redeemed lives would we bring,
With aught that gratitude may give

To serve you in your sorrowing.

And never a pathway shall ye tread,
No foot of seashore, hill or lea,

But ye may think: "The dead, my dead,
Gave this, a sacred gift, to me."

HABBERTON LULHAM.

The German Octopus

By W. Morris Colles

UNDERGROUND Germanism in-
dubitably has won signal tri-
umphs in the Italian debacle
and the Russian tragedy. Cata-
clysms designed to bring nations to the
brink of ruin could only have been
compassed, as we shall have occasion
to show, by a tireless husbandry of
their soil and a studied seduction of
their people. Nor can these foul
machinations, which have proved fruit-
. ful beyond the German dreams, be re-
garded as merely isolated efforts.
There is overwhelming evidence that
they are the tools of a concerted pur-
pose. Germany's "defaitiste campaign"
to use her euphemism for the most
gigantic machinery of corruption
known to history has been, and is be-
ing, fought today behind every front
and amongst the people of every coun-
try, whether belligerent or neutral. It
is as grandiose in conception as that
dead dream of Pan-German Dominion
of which it is the aftermath.

It must here be stated, with all pos-
sible insistence, that its menace is
deadly and urgent, and that, unless the
several belligerents of the Entente or-
ganize their civil armies, with a sin-
gle purpose, they will risk disasters
which will threaten their own national
integrity, and imperil their existence
of the Alliance itself. Their armies
and navies may, on the eve of victory,
crowning a bravery which beggars all
the records of crivalry, find themselves
robbed of the fruits by the shameful
folly of the peoples they are defending
from horrors unspeakable and a future
which would be a living death.

The case for a Supreme War Council
so auspiciously inaugurated at Ver-
sailles which it is needless to recapit-
ulate here applies with even greater

urgency, if this be conceivable, to that
for a Supreme Civil Council. The par-
allels between military strategy and
civil strategy rest not merely on anal-
ogy but on logic. Both aim at the same
objectives and both are equally de-
structive in their incidence. The dis-
integration of national solidarity is as
fatal to sovereignty as the destruction
of armies in the field. In a war of peo-
ples the front is not limited to the
fighting lines, but is conterminous with
the national boundaries. The strength
of the British Empire rests upon the
absolute integrity in moral of the peo-
ple in each and every part of the earth
which flies the British flag. A mo-
ment's reflection should suffice to
make us all realize that we are vulner-
able over an area which embraces half
the world, and that we have, primarily,
to safeguard the destinies of the four
hundred and thirty-five millions who
are under British sway. Our chronic
divergence in politics, the breakdown
of our party system, and perhaps that
careless freedom of which we are so
proud, leave us an easy prey, at this
supreme crisis, to enemy agents as-
tutely exploiting every ground of dif-
ference whether of race, religion or
class.

The Alliance itself, which adds such
an enormous area to our trust, makes
the task one which almost beggars the
imagination, embracing as it does, on
a rough computation, 1,400,000,000
souls. The fighting fronts of the Al-
lies are long enough to impose an al-
most superhuman strain upon their
joint fighting strength on land and sea ;
but the civil fronts now embrace as
much of both the Eastern and the
Western Hemispheres as do not, willy-
nilly, yield allegiance to the Central
Aug-4

138

OVERLAND MONTHLY

Empires. For the Allies are also the
guardians of every neutral country and
alone stand between it and enslave-
ment. If Germany wins the war, what
will the independence of Scandinavia,
Holland, Spain and Switzerland be
worth? The Allies are, too, for that
matter, fighting for world democracy
that is, for the right of every people,
including enemy peoples, to rule them-
selves against a malignant tyranny, a
veritable apotheosis of despotism, rest-
ing its sanctions on a Rule of Fear, bar-
ren of defense before God or man.

The Rome Conference was convened
to consider, as well as the co-ordina-
tion of military effort, the "necessary
measures to counteract the fatal pro-
paganda conducted by the Austro-Ger-
man emissaries amongst the Italians,
and to insure in future the defeat of
these machinations before they mater-
ialize." It is fervently to be hoped
that the Inter-Allied Supreme War
Council of Versailles has provided the
machinery essential to the fulfillment
of this aspiration. The eminent sol-
diers who are to advise the Allied War
Cabinet, and their entourage, cannot,
clearly, be expected to cope with po-
litical questions nor, primarily, with
propaganda at all.

It may be safely affirmed that there
has, in the past, been little or no at-
tempt at the co-ordination of the Al-
lied propaganda. British, American,
French, Italian, Serbian, Roumanian,
Japanese and, at one stage in the war,
Russian propaganda systems have, of
course, been at work. One and all
were, however, primarily, if not wholly,
self-centered, scrappy and isolated
alike as regards direction, form and
purpose, and largely limited to national
aims. It was inevitable, therefore,
that their single or cumulative effects
upon the course of the War as affected
by the hostile civil offensive, should
have been so largely barren. The re-
sults of their action were frequently
dissipated by divergencies in general
purpose, or wasted in a futile rivalry.
It must, therefore, be the first aim of
the Allies to have done once and for
all, for the sake of their common

ideals. We cannot deny that there are
difficulties to be overcome in arriving
at a working system. There are psy-
chological distinctions which cannot be
ignored. It is hard for the Latin mind
and the Anglo-Saxon mind to see
things eye to eye. Their points d'ap-
pui and their outlook do not coalese.
It is indeed no easy matter for us to
view matters in the same perspective
as, even, our Transatlantic cousins.
But, with a cause so holy, so purely al-
truistic in both its origins and its aims,
we have a bond of union which should
serve to make all the elements of civi-
lized mankind, whatever their "diver-
sities of gifts," one band of brothers.
We have to deliver the world from
the menace of a people which knows
not pity, that "virtue of the law," and
is still boasting of its purpose to bring
all nationalities into bondage to its
own gain and its sole aggrandizement.
"Unity" must be our common beacon
until this tyranny be overpast. Unity
will make for strength. It will oper-
ate nationally as well as internation-
ally. A government or a country
there is a distinction and a difference
which is ad idem in fact, as well as
in form, with the other Allied Govern-
ments, or countries, will be all the
stronger at home as well as abroad.
They will give each other mutual sup-
port, and will, one and all, be the bet-
ter able to offer "a single front" to all
attacks of cliques, or claques, or ca-
bals, whether of home manufacture or
of "enemy origin."

"If we persistently neglect these first
principles of strategy, our foes will
continue to possess in the civil, as they
have possessed hitherto in the military
sphere, the undisturbed advantages ac-
cruing from "unity of control," "a sin-
gle front" and "interior lines." There
may be much that is simply amusing
in the miraculous rapidity with which
they are credited by self-styled experts
with being able to transfer hundreds
of thousands of men with their muni-
tionment from the Russian to the Ital-
ian or French fronts, but, so far as
their propaganda is concerned, they
can and do shift their attacks with such

THE GERMAN OCTOPUS

139

lightning speed that nothing but a
practical system of co-ordinated coun-
teraction can enable the Alliance to
meet the maneuver on equal terms. A
Supreme Civil Council possessing the
essential executive powers, and in the
commanding position which pooled in-
telligence alone can secure, would be
able to interpose at will sound civil
tactics between the enemy and his po-
litical aims in every part of the earth.
Neither Great Britain nor her Allies
are so poor in resource that they could
not, "an they would," confront the
enemy with an effective defensive and
offensive plan of campaign. The mis-
takes of omission or commission in
Russia or Italy, to which we must re-
turn, can be prevented in the light of
our sharp experience and of the warn-
ings this conveys.

As matters stand it is indubitable
that the Allies have been worsted in
civil strategy in every one of the
scenes which have flashed across the
stage on which this mighty drama is
being acted before the gaze of a be-
wildered world. It is a humiliating re-
flection, for all of them alike, that a
people whose pinchbeck pretensions to
superiority in arms, in science, in the
humanities, have one by one been
proved to demonstration to be as
empty as the "crackling of thorns
under a pot," should have won a long
succession of triumphs. There can-
not, however, be any shadow of doubt
as to the fact. Nor, if we are content
to "wait and see," will there long be
any great uncertainty as to the conse-
quences. This is no time for beating
about the bush nor for mincing one's
words. The facts call, and call loudly,
for hard thinking and plain statement.
If it can be shown that these calamities
might have been or can be averted, it
is not another occasion for simply seek-
ing the scapegoats whom we can drive
into the wilderness of obscurity in or-
der that they may expiate the sins of
those who sit in the seats of the
mighty. But, if the Allied peoples can
really safeguard themselves against
these maneuvers, all questions as to
the responsibility for past blunders

may be left for settlement after the
conclusion of peace. It is foolish to
wash any more dirty linen in public.

German propaganda has, of course,
always been at work in both the ante-
bellum and post-bellum epochs. Nor
need these periods be very sharply dis-
tinguished. In both it was much more
destructive than constructive. The
writer has a vivid recollection of a
proposition which reached a leader-
writer on a leading morning daily
newspaper in the year 1880, offering a
substantial retainer conditional upon
his securing the insertion in the journal
in question of articles which would be
supplied, from time to time, from a
German source. The proposal was, of
course, promptly communicated to the
proprietors and incontinently rejected
without thanks. The example is,
doubtless, one of many.

But it is needless to labor the fact
that Germany, from Bismarck to Hert-
ling, has always sought to suborn the
British, and, for that matter, the world
Press. We believe that her success in
our midst was always grossly exag-
gerated. It may, however, be com-
mended as an exercise to the curious
to work out the identity of ownership
of British journals, both past and pres-
ent, which have come under the stigma
of pro-Germanism. It may, too, be
suggested that amongst post-bellum
"pacifists" and pessimists will be found
not a few ante-bellum apologists. From
the same group comes the opposition
to the adequate financial support of
the War Aims Committee which is en-
trusted with British propaganda at
home. At such a crisis as that through
which we are passing it is almost be-
yond endurance that, under the poor
pretense that the precedent might be
utilized so as to foster present or fu-
ture party activities, an organized at-
tempt should be made to hamper a ma-
chinery obviously material to the de-
fense of the Realm. The government
at last admits that a considerable num-
ber of very seditious organizations ex-
ist in the country, and are known to
have been at work in many industrial
centers, and especially in the South

140

OVERLAND MONTHLY

Wales coal fields, preaching peace and
opposing conscription, for all the world
as if their spokesmen were marionettes
worked from the Wilhelmstrasse it-
self. All the while, too, German agents
are known to be spending German
money like water here in the des-
pairing effort to bring upon England
evils exactly analogous to those of the
Bolshevik or Bolo pattern. It will be
our own fault if we do not find a short
way to combat these onslaughts and
the efforts of those unworthy faineants
who appear to regard with equanimity
a future with our necks under the heel
of the Hun.

It is, however, proof enough, and
more than enough, of this necessity, at
the moment, to indicate in rapid out-
line some of the ways in which the
German octopus has got its tentacles
.round a few of its victims since the
outbreak of war. Each is typical. Ex
uno disce omnes. Mathias Erzberger,
who has throughout the war been in
control of the propaganda office of the
German Admiralty in the Budapester
Strasse, Berlin, one of the most active
of the German government bureaus,
and run under the fostering care of von
Tirpitz, has reduced chicanery to a
science. All the buying agents of Ger-
many in neutral countries, for instance,
business men who already wielded im-
mense commercial influence, were sup-
plied with unlimited funds, which gave
them the entree to all social circles in
any community, and at once utilized
as war propagandists whose potentiali-
ties were not long in doubt. They
proved themselves capable of manu-
facturing and manipulating neutral
opinion to an extent which the isolated
and haphazard efforts of the Allies
were totally unable to keep in check.
Armies of "neutral" agents and mal-
contents of every color were, and are,
formed into systematized contingents
for service on a strategical plan in bel-
ligerent countries. It has been com-
puted that $75.000,000 a year has been
expended by Germany on propaganda
during the war. All such estimates
must, of course, be a mere matter of
guesswork, and the point is not ma-

terial save as affording some measure
of comparison between the enemy and
the Allied estimate of the value of
this weapon.

Now there appeared in the news-
papers in July the following obscure
paragraph, which at the time attracted
little attention and passed without
comment :

Two large advertising and press
agencies have been formed one in
Berlin and the other in Essen. They
are backed by large capitalists, among
whom is Krupps. The aim of these
agencies is pan-German propaganda
at home and abroad.

The great armament firm at the time,
as before and since, had its hands
pretty full, and that it should have
thought fit to add to its activities in this
direction was not without a special
significance. Krupps have, it is true,
always recognized the power of the
Press. The Rheinische Westfalische
Zeitung has long been the property of
the firm, and they are credited with a
controlling voice in the Tagliche Rund-
schau, to say nothing of at least half
a dozen other German newspapers.
For that matter it may be safely sug-
gested that Essen owns or controls
many journals in belligerent as well as
in neutral countries. Dr. Thorndike,
the so-called Secretary-General of the
firm, has, too, been openly at work in
Switzerland in conjunction with Erz-
berger attending to the Deutsche Pro-
paganda in der Schweiz, with a be-
nevolent eye to the encouragement of
German music as a side line. The re-
cently founded journal, the Paris-Ge-
neve, with which he had much to do.
rather overshot the mark, and the
Swiss government intervened and con-
fiscated its plant. But that was a tri-
fling matter, since practically the whole
German-Swiss Press, except a few dai-
lies published at Zurich and Basel, is
German-owned or German-bought. The
peaceful penetration of Switzerland
has, indeed, already reached the dan-
ger point.

The defaitiste maneuver which com-
passed the Italian debacle and the cam-
paign by which Germany aims at sap-

THE GERMAN OCTOPUS

141

ping the strength of all the Allied peo-
ples one by one to say nothing of the
rest of mankind known to have been
organized at Berne, had, it may be
suggested, Dr. Thorndike as its spon-
sor. Krupps, mainly, who have been
"bleeding Germany white" and piling
up their Blutgeld all through the war,
are now finding many millions of
money which have given these machi-
nations their intensive force. There is
a significance in all this which must
not be missed. A business organiza-
tion of these dimensions and efficiency,
backed by huge resources the Kaiser
himself is more than suspected of be-
ing one of its big shareholders is a
menace which is more real than all the
vaporings of von Kuhlmann. Krupps
have "interests' 7 manned by the picked
men of the business world in almost
every country. The owners of huge
mining and coal concessions, they have
their managers or agents in every cen-
ter or market of the raw materials re-
quired for armament and munition-
ment. They hold large patent and
other rights in this country, and they
have their agents here in our midst,
of whom many, we do not doubt, have
not only escaped internment, but re-
main an active source of mischief.
There is not a single Allied country
which possesses a machinery capable
of meeting that of the Krupps on equal
terms.

The true lesson of German propa-
ganda is, however, better learned from
concrete examples than from abstract
generalities. The Caporetto disaster
is, at the moment, as we have said, a
signal triumph. It is, if you examine
the facts, so far as these have been
permitted to become known, perfectly
obvious that such a harvest would
never have ripened but for a careful
sowing of the seed in the ground. The
Italian soldiery, or rather that section
who ran away or laid down their arms
the truth of the whole story has yet
to be fully established and are now
expiating their crime as slaves to their
ruthless seducers, could not have been
corrupted by a few old wives' tales, nor
deluded in any great numbers by the

forged copies of the Corriere della Sera
and the Giornale d'ltalia, with their
flambuoyant stories of Italian women
and children being slaughtered by li-
centious French and brutal British
troops. To read of French cavalry rid-
ing down and sabring helpless crowds
in the streets of Milan could, too, hard-
ly have excited anything but derision
even amongst the most ignorant sol-
diers in the Italian army. And what,
it may be asked, were the Italian offi-
cers doing all the while this balderdash
was being distributed broadcast under
their noses? German mendacity, we
know to our cost, has been too often
ignored. The truth is that the Allied
official estimate of its powers for evil
is all wrong. We ourselves brush
aside a naked lie as simply contempt-
ible, instead of cabling a crushing de-
menti. The preposterous rubbish
printed in Islam's Glory which came
into the Prize Court with the gorge-
ous crescent and flaming red star em-
blazoned on its cover left us cold. We
smiled unmoved at that wondrous com-
pilation, "The Neutrality of India and
England." But Germany knows full
well the truth of the proverb :

"Gutta cavat lapidem non vi sed
saepe cadendo."

Of set purpose she floods the world
with fables subtly calculated to fit her
plans. At the present moment pam-
phlets we laugh at are being eagerly
read all over India and the East. It is
simply madness to treat such attacks
with silent, and idle, contempt. We
may be assured of Indian loyalty to-
day, but can the myriads of that great
empire be regarded as immune to such
continuous seduction, however gro-
tesque, fostered as it is by foes of our
own household?

In Italy the stage was carefully set.
The brilliant journalist who contributes
to M. Clemenceau's "L'Homme Libre"
over the signature "Lysis," has un-
earthed the activities of an agency
which claims to be of Swiss national-
ity, but is, and always has been, di-
rected and financed by Germans.
Known in Berlin as Haasenstein und
Vogler; in Paris as La Societe Euro-

142

OVERLAND MONTHLY

peenne de Publicite; and in Milan as
Unione Pubblicita Italiana ; it has mo-
nopolized the advertising columns of
not only a large section of the French
Press, but of eighty-one Italian jour-
nals.

M. Jean Ajalbert has thus told the
sorry story in the Nouvelle Revue :

"Ici, comme ailleurs, 1'Allemagne
avait pris ses precautions. C'est tout
naturellement qu'en trente ans d'amitie
ses agents s'etaint introduits dans les
redactions et les imprimeries. Mais ils
avaint des moyens plus surs. Ils
avaient monopolise la publicite avec
Fagence pretendue suisse Haasenstein
et Vogler, qui a impetuesement fonc-
tionne au debut de la guerre. Les
grand journaux ont pu resister et tenir
tete, mais un certain nombre ont du
disparaitre ou s'incliner, c'est-a-dire
accepter les depeches tendancieuses et
mener la campagne pour les empires
du Centre. L'agence Haasenstein et
Vogler dispensait ou coupait la pub-
licite, c'est-a-dire les vivres aux jour-
naux pauvres."

So, once more, the tares were sown.
Is it any wonder that soldiers and
people, taken off their guard, reaped a
poisoned harvest? Germany, however,
made assurance doubly sure. To the
influence of the Press she acfied that
of the priests. The Morning Post has
performed a national service in advan-
cing the charge that tne Vatican is
known to have been implicated in these
intrigues and "has furtively, but ac-
tively, espoused the Austrian cause."
Cardinal Bourne and Card**ul Gas-
parri have, it is true, flat'-/ contra-
dicted this "atrocious calumny." In a
leading article on the 5th of December
the journal says in reply:

"And he (Cardinal Gasparri'i chal-
lenges us to produce evidence in sup-
port of our statement. We have then,
in our possession, what we believe to
be^ accurate information that the parish
priests in the country districts of Italy
suggested to the people that a Tope-
King' would be able to make much bet-
ter terms with Austria than the King
of Italy; and that when the wounded
returned the priests asked them what

they had been fighting for, and told
them that the rich and well-to-do took
care to escape military service."

Ultramontane "pacifists" have, too,
long been suspected. Read the crush-
ing testimony of Ignatius:

"Unless the Allies are careful the
public spirit of their peoples, with its
moral and economic foundations, will
be undermined while their armies are
fighting Germany. 'Peace' will fall
upon the world like an entangling net,
or like a fog rising, one knows not
whence or how. This is the victory at
which Germany now aims. She is pre-
paring for it, as she alone knows how
to prepare, with the help of the Ro-
man Curia, on the one hand, and of
high finance on the other, and followed
by the bleating and imbecile flocks of
Socialist pacifist and humanitarian
pacifists. If her subtle campaign suc-
ceeds the peoples of Europe will
hardly know why they have fought."

These weighty words are now dou-
bly pregnant with meaning. Mr. Rich-
ard Bagot, again, whose consummate
knowledge is beyond all question, in
a letter to the Morning Post alludes, in
proof of the direct or indirect culpa-
bility of the Vatican, to the fact that,
for more than two years the Italian
clerical Press has expounded pro-Ger-
man and anti-British and French sen-
timents, to which must be added "in-
numerable pamphlets and leaflets, re-
views and brochures of all descriptions
which have been distributed whole-
sale, not only in the Italian cities, but
even in the smallest and most remote
country towns, through clerical agen-
cies."

He then goes on to explain that ex-
tracts from the Papal Peace Note, "ac-
companied by insidious and unpatri-
otic comments, were clandestinely dis-
tributed among soldiers on leave and
in the hospitals, and to men called up
to the Colors who would sooner or later
be going to the Front." Need we fur-
ther expound the plot ? Has Ultramon-
tane influence been at the bottom of
the support and leading which a sec-
tion of the Irish priesthood has given
to the Sinn Fein movement? Is this

THE GERMAN OCTOPUS

143

the bridge between de Valera and the
Kaiser ?

If the case of the Italian press use-
fully illustrates the enemy methods,
Germany is practicing exactly the
same sort of subterfuge in France. It
is no secret that Boloism is much more
far-reaching than has been permitted
to appear. The exact position is not
at the moment susceptible of discus-
sion; the impeachment of M. Malvy;
the case of Le Journal, with its bewil-
dering succession of owners; the Cail-
laux affair; and the like ramifications
of the conspiracy are sufficiently be-
fore the public day by day. The
French government is perfectly wide
awake and has shown itself commend-
ably capable of meeting the emer-
gency. "Lysis" more than hints, how-
ever, that the same firm, suitably cam-
ouflaged, of course, are at work in Eng-
land. We see no reason on a priori
grounds to doubt the possibility of the
suggestion. It does not, at first sight,
appear to be quite clear how such a
plan would work out. Any commu-
niques which such an agency, however
disguised, ordered to be inserted would
have to be very cleverly wrapped up.
For it is unthinkable that any British
journal would deliberately allow itself
to be used by the enemy. The sugges-
tion may, nevertheless, explain many
cryptic paragraphs, often of neutral
origin, or so called, which have ap-
peared in the Press, astutely directed,
whatever their seeming purpose, to
stirring up strife among us. Are our
own people, for all their courage, im-
mune to so sinister a method of un-
dermining their confidence? A work-
ingman reads in, it may be, his one
and only journal, as it seems to him,
bona fide doubts as to the wisdom of
the war and specious pleas in favor of
an early peace. Round the corner, too,
he finds the agitator, primed with ar-
guments to drive the lesson home. He
has so far been left without warning
and without inspiration from any of
our leading men.

The case of poor, unhappy Russia
stands on all fours with that of Italy,
save that the consequences are, as it

seems, there so terribly irremediable.
Here, again, the Allies had plenty of
notice as to what was afoot. There is
scarcely a feature in the whole hide-
ous spectacle that was not forecasted
in urgent messages from Petrograd.
All were warned over and over again
that the Russian masses were in a state
of abysmal ignorance, more especially
as to British traditions in particular
and the Allied war aims in general, Sir
George Buchanan has unquestionably
discharged his official functions with
undaunted courage during a period of
stress and strain almost beyond human
endurance. It was not in his unaided
power to do more. But it cannot be
contested that Germanism, heedless of
disguise, had a perfectly free hand
throughout the length and breadth of
the Russian State. If you look at the
foundations on which the Bolshevik
conspiracy was built, you can see
standing out an amazingly thorough or-
ganization working above as well as
underground all the while. The seduc-
tion of such large masses of the sol-
diers and sailors and people to a point
which made them ripe for civil war,
murder and a Reign of Terror was not
done in a day. Lenin's plot would
have collapsed long ago but for its
German backing, and so long as the
Allies permit these machinations to be
pursued, without even the barest pre-
tense of a counter-offensive, the trou-
bles of which we have already reaped
the first fruits, will prevent the resto-
ration of ordered Liberty in the place
of unbridled License in All-the-Rus-
sias. Germany has willed a Reign of
Terror in Russia. Siberia, Esthonia
and even Kuban have declared them-
selves independent republics, and they
signalize this event by withdrawing all
their troops from the Russian front. It
does not call for any very great acu-
men to detect the villain of the piece.
In China, again, the enemy is keep-
ing alive the ferment of revolution.
Foiled in her specious coup d'etat,
aimed at the restoration of the dynasty,
she is now addressing herself to the
congenial task of engineering recurring
ministerial crises and driving home the

144

OVERLAND MONTHLY

wedge between the northern military
leaders and the southern provinces,
hoping thus to avert the danger of a
strong coalition and foment disintegra-
tion, decay and revolution. Only the
other day a government official con-
sulted by the writer as to trend of en-
emy action, remarked : "Oh, we needn't
worry about China/' It is the acme of
laissez-faire. We need not,, if you
please, worry about this limitless res-
ervoir of man power, which the enemy
has long marked down as his happy
hunting ground!

There is a curious sameness about
German propaganda, but in "the un-
changing East' 7 that is almost an ad-
vantage. We do not doubt that the
deutsche Zeitung is still being pre-
sented to all the men who matter in
China, as it has been for years. Such
a trifle as a declaration of war would
not be permitted to affect German ac-
tivities materially. During the last
few days we have had from Tientsin
reports that, clearly under German in-
spiration, the vernacular Press is set-
ting about categorical statements that
"Japan is negotiating for a separate
peace." The next move will undoubt-
edly be the quotation from the Chinese
Press of this pretty little story. Thus
Germany hopes to discount Viscount
Ishii's exposure of her intrigue to close
the "Open Door" in China which so
narrowly failed of complete success.
The Marquess of Lansdowne's letter
of which it is well known German pro-
pagandists have made the most all over
the world, and not without a certain
amount of success is at the same
time being used by Pekin journals as
a proof of British decadence, which is
not unnatural, and a presage of Brit-
ain's downfall, which involves a non
sequitur.

But the octopus is omnivorous. The
French had the good luck to capture,
lately, en bloc, the German Mission to
Abyssinia, where, "according to plan,"
they had been fomenting the downfall
of the dynasty. The menace of Ger-
man influence, through a Pretender, to
British, Italian and French Somali-
land is sufficiently obvious. In South

America, again, for all its belligerency,
Germany is busily at work, but now un-
derground. In the Argentine they have
managed to stave off the evil day, and,
characteristically, in return fomented
a railway strike. All the same the
Buenos Ayres correspondent of The
Times predicts that the Argentine will
become the "Greece of South Amer-
ica." Germany has, it is said, suc-
ceeded in making the maintenance of
neutrality vital to President Irigoyen
and the Radical Party. Here, too,
clerical influence has, we are told,
been cast in Germany's favor.

But the story is the same, take what
country you will. A semi-official
statement from Athens, for instance,
declares that German propagandists
are busily at work shaking the morale
of Greece on exactly the Russian and
Italian lines: Spain, Norway, Sweden
are also in the clutches of the octopus,
although they vainly hope that the
blessed word "neutrality" may prove
their salvation. They forget the octo-
pus never lets go its grip.

An Inter-Allied Propaganda under
the control of a Supreme Civil Coun-
cil, directed with vision, is, we believe,
the true answer to the enemy chal-
lenge. It has already been far too long
deferred. Its methods can only be set-
tled by conjoint authority, and, obvi-
ously, lie outside the sphere of public
discussion. In the same way, no doubt,
its policy and practice at home are im-
peratively matters of domestic concern
for each of the Allies. It is not pos-
sible for one Ally to step between an-
other and its armies or its people, and
it is not, perhaps, unnatural that one
and all should prefer to keep their
own counsel, although this may be a
source of weakness.

One consideration, however, arises
which is, in its application, common to
all. It is the traditional method of the
older diplomacy to surround itself, like
the Veiled Prophet of Khorassan, in a
web of mystery. It would, perhaps,
be unfair to suggest any parallel be-
tween its underlying motives and those
which actuated Mokanna. The tradi-
tion of secrecy has, however, through-

THE GERMAN OCTOPUS

145

out the war been enforced without dis-
crimination. So far as military neces-
sities prevail, it is, of course, inevitable
but it does not seem to possess the
like cogency where we have to meet
enemy civil action. All the Allies pos-
sess the most wonderful examples of
enemy propaganda, and all, we believe,
alike, with the single exception of the
United States, with its virile vision,
hide them away in their archives as
sacrosanct and not for vulgar eyes. We
ourselves possess collections, scattered
through many departments, and never
co-ordinated, which would throw a
flood of light upon Germany's maneu-
vers.

But the fiat has gone forth from
the wiseacres who control these pre-
cious proofs of German guile, and pub-
lication is not to take place "until long
after the end of the war." They will
then, no doubt, provide amusing read-
ing for posterity, but posterity instead
of smiling at Germany's foolishness is
more likely to form its own conclusions
as to the unwisdom of our neglect to
use them at the time so that their in-
fluence could have been sterilized and
their mendacities held up to the^ ridi-
cule and reprobation of the civilized
world. It is argued that to give them
publicity is to comply with the en-
emy's wish and enhance their effect.

But is the Allied cause so poor of jus-
tification that it need fear exploded
enemy teachings or preachings? We
may not be able to compete on even
terms in this orgy of infamy, but if it
were pitilessly exposed in all its utter
depravity we should at once inflict a
crowning moral defeat upon the enemy.
A Cimmerian darkness is not the
happiest atmosphere for a country at
war. It can neither satisfy nor reas-
sure. We have, Heaven knows, given
our foes information enough and to
spare. We have indulged in a carni-
val of candor as to our national short-
comings. In a war of peoples it is,
above all, vital, and at this, "the fate-
ful hour of mankind," it is our sacred
duty to preserve the national balance.
At the front our soldiers must be kept
secure from being deluded by those
songs of victory which the enemy sing
twice a day. At home our watchword
should be "Trust the people." This is
not the moment for scolding and fault-
finding. The masses have given proofs
and to spare of a high courage. They
have shown themselves strong to labor
and to endure. The enemy will surely
fail to shake their allegiance to the
commonweal if we dispel the darkness
by which it is being obscured. Dark-
ness begets doubt, doubt despair. "Let
there be light."

Exit

By Guy Fleming

MY LORD Duke was dying,
there was no mistake about
that. Every one at the castle
wore long faces and spoke in
respectful whispers. Some of them
seemed to walk on elastic tiptoes and
thought it was due to the exit of such
a great nobleman.

The Duchess was, unhappily, not at
the Castle; indeed, she was abroad,
and had been abroad for some time,
for it was no secret at the Castle or in
that "whispering gallery" we call So-
ciety, that the Duke and Duchess did
not "pull together" a euphemism
which was like many half-truths, for
these are often more explicit than the
whole truth. Even Mrs. Dunston, who
was a great friend of the Duke's, and
who indeed had been the cause of the
Duchess's abroadness, was not at the
Castle when these last respites came.
She had been at the Castle, but had
gone away on urgent private business.
Not that she was afraid, she was a
woman who was afraid of nothing, and
besides the doctors had said that it
was not infectious. No, but she really
was a sensitive woman and disliked
being brought into contact with sorrow
or death. She could not bear to see
a rabbit in a snare, but she had not
tried to rescue it, but had gone away
as quickly through the branching brac-
ken as she could. And here was the
Duke in a snare. Of course she could
do nothing to help him, or she would
have remained. The doctors had told
her she could be of no use. It might
be a matter of some days or of some
hours. He was making a hard fight
for his life, but death was too many
for him. So she left the Castle shiver-
ing. "What a way to put it a hard
fight for life, but death was too many

for him. Shocking ! Sir Balf our Stew-
art might be a clever man, as they said
he was, but apparently he had no taste
to put it to her like that"

This was the dominant thought as
she drove from the Castle to the sta-
tion, when the sun, a greater than the
Duke, was passing to his rest, and the
curtains of his bed were of purple and
gold. A soft wind, too, blew from
where the sun was going down, and
lifted and let fall the many branches as
children play with water, letting it drip
through their fingers. But the Duke,
too, was having a stately death-bed.
The great canopy over the bed was
decorated with gilded cupids, and
from these the pink silk curtains, faded
alas, but embroidered with silver,
hung. And from the posts which sup-
ported this oppressive canopy there
were little gilt cupids with wings
climbing up and peeping at the dying
man who had a hard struggle to get
breath and from whose throat there
sounded a rattle like that of a machine-
gun when his lungs greedily drank
the air.

Just then, one of the nurses who was
in attendance for in these days, al-
though a man can die without the pres-
ence of a priest, no man can be allowed
to die without the presence of profes-
sional nurses entered the room and
said:

"Your Grace, the Marquis has ar-
rived."

"What does he want?" asked the
dying man.

"He wants to see your Grace."

Now that was not quite true. The
Marquis of Harestock, the eldest son
of his Grace, was a boy of about seven-
teen and had always taken his mother's
part in the quarrel, shall we call it?

EXIT

147

And one of the last things he really
wanted to see was the face of the
Duke. He did not know, he told him-
self, what to say to his father. It was
not for him to rebuke his Grace and
this was not the time to do it but the
thought that he must still take his
mother's side was uppermost in his
mind. Indeed, he would not have
come to the Castle at all had not Sir
Balfour Stewart sent this telegram to
him:

"If you want to see his Grace alive
come at once."

It was that telegram that made him
come reluctantly to the Castle, and now
as reluctantly into the room where the
Duke lay dying.

"Well/' said his Grace, still strug-
gling manfully for breath. "Well,
what do you want? Have you come
to see a Duke die and a Marquis turned
into a Duke by magic. You won't have
to wait long."

"I came/' said the lad, "because I
heard you were very ill and I thought
that at such a time you shouldn't be
left alone."

"Alone. Yes, that's it. Alone, one
always is alone when one dies; but
here, why, there are none but servants
about me. The Duchess is abroad/' he
said bitterly.

"She thought," said the Marquis,
"that you had some one with you."

"Oh, she thought " Here his

poor lungs were almost bankrupt, and
then by some composition with the
bronchial tubes, they got enough to go
on with in a poor, mean way. "Oh,
she thought! Why should any one
stay with a dying man when his own
family deserts him?"

"But she has only gone a few hours,
father," said his son.

"Well, you have come/' said the old
man, and his eyes, which were in cav-
erns in his head, shone out for an in-
stant at his son. His bony hands were
laid on the sheet and were scraping

with their nails at the clothes on which
they lay. They seemed to the Marquis,
who had not much experience of death,
to have already the "blue" look of the
dead.

"You'll be Duke in an hour or two,
and I hope you'll make a better Duke
than I have been. It's too giddy a
place for most men, and that's why I
toppled."

He coughed.

"Wouldn't you like," said the boy,
for he had vague notions of what was
right under such circumstances, "would
you not like to see a clergyman? The
rector?"

"No," he answered. "This world
had me too much to let me think of
the next if there is a next God
knows. The rector, I've had enough of
his drivel. Do you think it would make
me happier to be preached out of life ?
God never took much notice of me,
and, why, I thought I could do without
a God. Man was enough for me man
and woman. But look at this: I mar-
ried one woman and thought I loved
another and I am left alone, and only
you to see that the nurses who are
weary of waiting on me don't put a
pillow on my mouth which might be
best after all!"

There was a long, breathless pause.
Then with a spasmodic clutch at the
bed clothes he said in a hoarse whis-
per:

"God! Did you say God ? Is there
a God ? You'll be a Duke in a minute
and I I'll know!"

He fell back, and the rattle in his
throat became louder. His son ran
to the door and called the nurses, and
they came in.

"He has gone," said one.

"Yes, dead," said the other. "We
may as well call Sir Balfour Stewart,
although he can do nothing."

"Dead!" said his son, and then add-
ed in an awed whisper : "Then he
knows."

The Decisiveness of Wars

By Roy L. Stevens

ONE of the questions we discuss
more often in the freedom of
private converse than under
the restraint of publicity, is
whether the war will end in an incon-
clusive peace. The problem has not
been absent from the German mind,
and the Kaiser has referred to the pos-
sibility of a conclusion which would be
inconclusive to the extent of not se-
curing German aims, but would give
Germany respite to prepare for their
prosecution under more favorable con-
ditions at some future date. Such a
peace would ex hypothesi be more dan-
gerous to the Allies than the continu-
ance of war. But there are not want-
ing pessimists who say in their hearts
that the balance of forces points de-
cisively towards an indecisive peace.
There have, it is true, been wars that
were drawn, and treaties of peacd
which divided the honors and spoils
and losses of war. But these have
been comparatively few; and even
when there has been an apparently
equal compromise, a number of is-
sues, some of which have not proved
subordinate, have commonly been de-
cided. A treaty of peace in 1918
might restore the territorial statue quo
ante bellum, but there are many things
which it could not guarantee. It could
not, for instance, destroy the experi-
ence of war acquired by millions of
Britons, or level Great Britain's muni-
tion producing capacity to its former
state. Still less could it recall the iso-
lation and the military impotence of
the United States, restore autocracy
in Russia, or guarantee the readiness
of German democracy to perpetuate its
sacrifices in the cause of Prussian mili-
tarism, or that of Austria to stake her
existence on a Balkan quarrel. How-

ever inconclusive the peace might be,
it would not put back the hands of the
clock to July, 1914.

War has, as a matter of fact, gener-
ally decided the issue on which it was
fought, and a good many other issues,
which it has incidentally raised, as
well. The Peloponnesian war was con-
clusive of the Athenian ambition to
found an empire. Alexander's cam-
paigns put an end to the prospects of
persian conquest, and spread a perma-
nent Hellenistic influence over the
East. The wars of Rome stamped an
ineradicable Roman impress on the
civilization of the world ; while the bar-
barian invasions decided that that im-
press should not take the form of a
world empire, or crush the varied life
of nationality. The Crusades were de-
cisive in their failure to rescue Eastern
Christendom from the domination of
the Moslem and the Turk; and the
Hundred Years' War was no less de-
cisive of the claim of English kings to
govern France. The Wars of Religion
established the right of national States
to determine their own religion inde-
pendent of the Catholic Church. The
Seven Years' War decided the future
of Canada and of India, the War of
American Independence that of the
thirteen colonies, and the American
Civil War the question of slavery and
of the unity of the republic ; and, how-
ever indecisive other wars of the last
four centuries may have appeared,
they have collectively determined at
least one general principle.

Wars have often established the in-
dependence or unification of States;
but no war has been successful in wip-
ing out an independent national State
in Europe, with the solitary exception
of Poland. France, Holland, Portugal,

THE DECISIVENESS OF WARS

149

Spain, the United States, the South
American States, the Balkan Powers,
Germany and Italy, have all had their
successful wars of national independ-
ence. States which were not national,
such as the Bourbon kingdom of Na-
ples, the Papal States, Hanover, the
Duchy of Lorraine, have, indeed, dis-
appeared; and there have been politi-
cal unions by consent, such as that be-
tween England and Scotland, the fed-
eration of German kingdoms in the
German Empire, and the personal un-
ion of the kingdoms of Hungary and
Bohemia with the Archduchy of Aus-
tria. But no national State which
emerged from the Middle Ages has
been permanently conquered save Po-
land. Early in the present war a Ger-
man historian, Professor Hans Del-
bruck, ventured to remark that the day
of world empires was passed. He was
promptly reminded by the unhistorical
militarists of Berlin that the terms of
peace would be settled by soldiers and
not by professors of history. It re-
mains to be seen whether this war
will repeal the verdict of history and
establish a new world empire. So far
the German General Staff has been
more fertile in starting new campaigns
than fortunate in clinching them; and
it may be that the factors which have
determined the course of modern his-
tory and defeated Napoleon will prove
too strong even for German generals.

Carlyle was fond of representing Na-
poleon as ever incurring fresh debts to
Nature and piling up an account which
he would some day have to settle. It
is a soothing picture of Nature, and
one would like to regard German han-
kering after world empire as a like
pursuit of bankruptcy in Nature's court
but one cannot be so sure before the
event as Carlyle was after it about Na-
ture's methods of keeping accounts.
Nature, according to him, was indebted
to Frederick the Great for the seizure
of Silesia; will she not be equally in-
debted to the Kaiser for the conquest
of Belgium? We may persuade our-
selves that Frederick's act was no in-
fringement of Nature because Silesia
was a land more akin to Prussia than

to Austria, and more likely to thrive
under Berlin than under Vienna. But
to Bernhardi and his school the virtue
and the naturalness of the acquisition
of Silesia consist in the fact that it
was seized by might and not according
by justice. We may suspect that, had
Napoleon died on the way to Moscow,
Carlyle would have failed to discover
his debt to Nature or to differentiate
so clearly between the morality of his
and Frederick's conduct. Nature as
the arbiter of success in war is a com-
plicated deity.

Nevertheless, there is some truth at
the bottom of Carlyle's well, though he
does not clarify the waters, and the
truth is not defined by calling it Na-
ture. There is a reason why Freder-
ick's wars were decisive in one direc-
tion and Napoleon's in the other, al-
though one cannot say that it lies in
any marked distinction between the
morality of their methods. For if Car-
lyle's belief in the morality of his Na-
ture leads him to turn a blind eye to
Frederick's crimes, Bernhardi's faith
in offensive war as the sovereign
method of empire building makes him
wondrous shy of St. Helena. Freder-
ick, like Bismarck, knew when to stop ;
he was on the side of Herr Delbruck,
and did not believe in world empires.
Napoleon did, and he did not know
where to stop. It would be truer, per-
haps, to say that he could not have
stopped had he wished. Militarist
government can subsist only on mili-
tary success ; and in the long run, mili-
tarism is found to be but a slow form
of political suicide. Napoleon could
give permanent peace to France only
at the price of gradually relaxing his
military autocracy. That no militarist
is ever prepared to do; and the Prus-
sians made war in 1914 because the
foundations of their government were
dissolving during peace. So they can-
not make peace even with impotent
Russia, because the militarist appetite
demands a satisfaction which no peo-
ple, however abject, can permanently
make.

Napoleon was bound to be defeated
in the end, because he would have

150

OVERLAND MONTHLY

gone on until he was. To judge from
Germany's program, she is in a simi-
lar frame of mind. In 1915 the Ger-
mans prudently forswore any wildcat
scheme in Russia like Napoleon's ad-
vance on Moscow. Today they are ad-
vertising their advance on Kieff and
Petrograd as well. They may reach
all three, but, like Napoleon, they will
find it much more difficult to get away;
and, like him, they will find it impos-
sible to stay. Napoleon's trumpetings
in the Moniteur as he advanced across
Russia, driving the enemy like chaff
before him, make useful reading to-
day, as also do our ancestors' gibes
at the chaotic and cowardly state of
Jacobin France on the eve of Valmy,
Jemappes and Fleurus. The German
program is one the like of which has
never succeeded since national States
developed in Europe, though defeat
has often been delayed by the treach-
ery, cowardice and supineness of the
despot's dupes and victims. German
princes abetted Louis XIV and con-
tributed to Napoleon's power against
which they had eventually to fight. So
there are States today prepared to help
Germany to a dictatorship, against
which, if she were successful, they
would have to struggle in the end. But
sooner or later wars for and against do-
mination in Europe have always been
decisive, and they have always ended
in the defeat of domination.

Polish history, indeed, provides an
exception, for despots destroyed the
Polish State. But there is much to be
said for the view that the fate of Po-
land has been the Nemesis of Europe.
Had Prussia, Austria and Russia not
been so engrossed in their Polish en-
terprise, the French Republic would
not have been permitted to develop its
military preponderance during the
Revolution. Had Napoleon restored
the Polish kingdom, his own fall might
have been averted. Joint complicity
in the suppression of Polish liberties
delayed the growth of liberty in Prus-
sia, Austria and Russia, and played in-
to the hands of Prussian junkerdom.
Had there been a national Polish State
this war might have been avoided, and

certainly would have taken a different
course in the Eastern sphere of opera-
tions. Had the Grand Duke's procla-
mation of August, 1914, been carried
out, Warsaw might not have been lost
nor Galicia recovered by Austria. It
was called an epoch-making document,
but documents do not make epochs;
they may mark them, but only if their
promise leads to performance.

War for domination does not succeed
and does not end in stalemate. There
might, indeed, be a truce or a treaty
this year or next like that of Amiens in
1802. But it would not be stalemate,
because it would not end the game;
and we are brought up against the lim-
itations of our metaphor. A game of
chess is an affair of extremely limited
liability and restricted issues. It is
complete in itself ; the pieces are swept
off the board and the matter ends.
There is no such conclusion, as there is
no such beginning, to war; the pieces
have a past and a future, as well as a
present. Their past determines their
place on the board and their effective
strength, and this game will not end
their existence; it will merely deter-
mine their position and strength in a
game that never ends on a board that
is never swept. Nor will the kings
always be kings, and the pawns may
come to their own. The pieces live as
well as move, and have their being,
and they are variant, not constant,
powers. The tragedy of the game of
war is that the pieces depend for their
welfare, not upon one another's de-
struction, but upon their survival. To
make a desert and to call it peace is
the logical outcome of Treitschke's
maxim that war is political science par
excellence ; but the vogue of that phil-
osophy is the crowning proof of Ger-
many's apostasy from civilization and
treason to mankind. Germany herself
owes less today to the brutality of her
triumph over France in 1870 than to
the wise restraint which Bismarck, in
defiance of his generals, exercised to-
wards Austria after the victory of Sa-
dowa. Peace may end the clash of
arms, but it opens another chapter in
human relations. You cannot behead

THE DECISIVENESS OF WARS

151

or banish a people, and the nations will
have to inhabit the earth on some
terms of mutual understanding. They
cannot remain on the board like pieces
paralyzed by stalemate. The value of
the settlement will depend upon its
adaptability to their future relations
with one another.

There are, indeed, limits to the de-
cisiveness of wars. It is safe to say
that this war will not extirpate a single
European State, though no one knows
how many new ones it may create ; and,
considering its destructive methods, it
is singular how creative are the effects
of war. Some wars, it is true, are
merely obstructive, waged to delay or
destroy the operation of indestructible
forces ; such have been the wars waged
in defense of a dying Turkish Empire.
But Turkey, not being a national State,
is an exception to the rule of modern
history; and the indestructibility of the
national State makes nonsense of the
German talk of biological decisions as
applied to States, or even to parties in
a civil war. There are missing links
in natural, but not in national, history;
for nations are not killed or eliminated
in a process of evolution. We have
tried it ourselves in Ireland for long
enough; and though the Eastern auto-
cracies destroyed the body of Poland,
they could not destroy its soul. Its
disembodied spirit gave them no peace,
and the problem of its reincarnation is
not the lease of the troubles which
harass them today.

Peace consequent upon a German
victory would contain within itself the
seeds of future wars as surely as would
have done a Hapsburg triumph in 1648
or a peace dictated by George III in
1783. The peace of Westphalia was
only decisive because it decided that
States might determine their own re-
ligion, and that of Versailles in 1783
because it decided that the American
Colonies should manage their own af-
fairs. Before this war there were Ger-
mans wise enough to admit that their
treatment of Alsace-Lorraine was a
mistake. That does not prevent more
foolish Germans from wanting to re-
peat it on a greater scale in Belgium.

There were Austrian statesmen, and
the Archduke Ferdinand was among
them, who saw that Magyar coercion
of the Southern Slavs was a danger to
the Dual Monarchy. A German pacifi-
cation of Europe involving the annexa-
tion of Belgium and parts of France,
German control of Holland, the subju-
gation of Serbia, and the repression of
tens of millions of Slavs, with the Turk
as assistant policeman,, would decide
nothing except that Europe would be-
come for a generation a scene of tur-
moil and seething discontent with an-
other world-wide conflict at the end.
Those who think such a decision pos-
sible have fed on the husks of history,
missing its moral kernel. Prussians
who glory, with justice, in their Seven
Years' war and in the moral effect it
had on the Prussian people, forget that
it was for them a war of defense, and
that the nearest parallel to the Prussia
of 1756-63, girdled with mighty foes,
is today to be found in Serbia or Rou-
mania. A decisive peace demands
more than military success, and em-
pires which rest on the sword are wont
to perish by it. Napoleon dictated a
dozen treaties of peace at the point of
the sword, but the peace that was de-
cisive was one that sent him to St. He-
lena. It was only stalemate in the
sense that he could not move.

The phrase "stalemate in war" is
one which we use to supply the poverty
of our language or to conceal the ob-
scurity of our thought. It involves an
analogy between the game of chess and
the game of war which is inexact. The
rules which govern the two have little
in common. Stalemate in chess is the
success of the vanquished party in
avoiding defeat, but he owes it to mere
convention. Each player must play in
turn, and stalemate only arises when
the player whose turn it is to move is
unable to do so. In war that circum-
stance involves defeat and not a drawn
game. Nor is there in war any rule
that your enemy cannot move a second
time until you have had your turn; he
may move many times before you get
a turn at all. Probably very few peo-
ple know what they mean when they

152

OVERLAND MONTHLY

talk of stalemate in war. They may
mean a drawn game, which need not
be stalemate at all in chess. A drawn
game in war generally means a peace
based on the territorial status quo ante
bellum, but a real status quo is an elu-
sive will-o'-the-wisp. The Crimean
War was fought to maintain the status
quo, and the peace which followed
sought to ratify it. In effect that war
ushered in a series of wars which radi-
cally changed the conditions of Europe
and we are still suffering from the
folly of having backed the wrong
horse.

The true criterion of wars and trea-
ties of peace consists in their relation
to forces and ideas which are stronger
than the sword and more important
than territory. It is a feeble faith in
the principles of nationality and free-
dom which is daunted by the brandish-
ing of mailed fists. Even in Germany,
whatever the designs of the General
Staff earlier in the war, the conviction
that nerves the people is that they are
fighting in self-defense; and the diffi-
culties of the Allies arise largely from
their inadequate recognition in the past
of the principle of nationality. Bul-
garia's intervention was directly due
to the Treaty of Bucharest; and want
of effective co-operation in the south-
east of Europe is due, not to the denial
of nationality, but to the conflicting
claims of nationalities. It is a tempo-
rary alliance and a short-sighted policy
which links aspiring nationalities with
the Prussians and the Turks, who stand
for the subjection of nationality to the
State; and its triumphs will be short-
lived and barren. For the future does
not depend entirely on Europe, and po-
tential as well as actual power must be
included in the reckoning. The Great
Republic across the water, the great
States growing up with the British Em-
pire, South America and Japan cannot
be ignored in the ultimate balance of
power between "Kultur" and national
freedom. A German victory would not
decide the issue ; in the long stretch of
Time and the wide span of mankind it
would be a transient and a local retro-
gression, and the keystone of the arch

of the world would still be the British
Navy.

Barring the destruction of British sea
power, a German victory would be hol-
low as well as transient. It is to Brit-
ish wealth alone that Germany looks
to repair her financial losses during the
war, and even British wealth could not
repair her waste of human material.
She will not achieve success with less
than the loss of a third of her males of
military age and fitness ; the birth rate
in Germany decreases and the civilian
death rate increases progressively as
the war goes on. There were three
million more women than men in Ger-
many before the war; there will be six
before it ends, and it has already been
suggested that "Kultur" will become
polygamous for the sake of perpetuity.
France has never recovered the Euro-
pean position she held before the
drafts Napoleon made on its virility,
and, inasmuch as the population of
Germany and her Allies is far less than
the population of her enemies, she suf-
fers in proportion. National strength
has always its limits; the welfare of a
State depends upon the accuracy with
which it measures its ambitions by the
strength at its disposal. An orgy of
expansion like that of France under
Napoleon cannot be indulged in with
impunity. Ordered growth gives better
guarantees of permanence.

So, too, the German genius for or-
ganization is not without its dangers.
There is a limit to the strength and en-
durance of all materials, and perfect
organization may mean merely that
failure in any part of the machine is
postponed until the whole collapses.
There was nothing more perfectly con-
structed than Oliver Wendell Holmes's
wonderful "One-Hoss Shay," and its
appearance in its hundredth year was
wonderfully deceptive. Our pessimism
at home is largely due to the fact that,
while we see England from the inside,
we can only see Germany from the out-
side, and the outside of a shell looks
much the same, whether it is full or
empty. It is the condition of the con-
tents which will determine whether the
issue of the war will be decisive or not,

THE SEARCH FOR HEAVEN.

153

and that condition it is the business of
the German censor to conceal. It may
be possible for Germany so to balance
and organize her forces that none of
her means shall fail before the others,
but she cannot so arrange the powers

of the world. Unless the contending
forces are miraculously balanced, there
will be a resounding decision one way
or the other ; and there is no convention
in war whereby the loser can convert
disaster into stalemate.

THE SEARCH FOR HEAVEN

Last night my soul rose on the foam
Of a great wave beneath the dome
Of all creation; rose to see
Age-ripened hosts in agony,
Seeking a heaven;

Saw forms and faces early known,
From which a haloed radiance shone,
As though their inner vision lent
To life new meanings God had sent
From His high heaven.

I saw within a field a pair
Of workers ; labor checked their prayer
In this His vineyard called to key
The homelier things to harmony;
And was this heaven?

Here one whom hate's foul venom fanned
Turned from Love's way the great Will planned;
Weary, unmerciful the breath
An ecstasy perverted! death!
(For love is heaven!)

I reached across the black abyss
The chasm 'twixt that world and this
Called him by name of magic "Friend!"
And watch the light and shadow blend.
And there found heaven.

ROSE DE VAUX-ROYER,

Aug-5

Ysabella

A Romance of Spanish California

(Continued From Last Month)

By Clarice Garland

CHAPTER XIV

THE Venture passed the rocky
bluff of Point Firmin and came
to anchorage in the harbor of
San Pedro. In the east, Mount
San Antonio, wearing a snow-white
cap, stood sentinel over the valley,
where stood Mission San Gabriel Arc-
angel, the pride of the Missions, in a
fertile, well wooded, well watered spot
beside the San Gabriel river. The Mis-
sion buildings and gardens were sur-
rounded by an impenetrable hedge of
prickly pears, which afforded both
protection and fruit, planted by the
thrifty padres.

In this patriarch home lived an in-
dustrious, happy, contented original
population, carving wood, horn and
leather with marvelous tracings and
working in the great vineyards of
sixteen thousand vines, harvesting
twenty thousand bushels of grain, cul-
tivating two thousand olive, orange
and peach trees, spinning and weaving
great piles of blankets by the seven-
teen hundred neophytes, or Christian-
ized Indians belonging to the Mission.
Captain Fitch rowed ashore and se-
curing a horse at the stable belonging
to the Mission, he rode eastward, until
the quaint campanile of Mission San
Gabriel Arcangel loomed in view,
founded five years before the Declara-
tion of Independence of the United
States. The white, buttressed walls
and stone stairway, worn by the feet

of many neophytes climbing to the
choir gallery, rose from the fragrant
gardens.

In the several hundred acres thus
enclosed, El Molino, the mill for grind-
ing the grain, stood near the San Ga-
briel river, roofed with red tiles made
by the Indians. Signs of industry
were to be seen everywhere. The
rich groves, vineyards and fields
stretched away on every side. Or-
ange and peach trees hung out their
luscious globes inviting the traveler.
Hundreds of Indians cultivated the
groves and fields, and many miles dis-
tant, the vaquero belonging to the Mis-
sion watched immense heards of cat-
tle, flocks of sheep and droves of hogs
in the vast San Bernardino Rancho,
an adjunct of the Mission.

Captain Fitch rode up to the en-
trance, dismounted and an Indian va-
quero led his horse to the corral. The
visitor pulled a bell rope, hangitig
invitingly like a latch-string at the door
of the monastery, and Father Boscana
came from the courtyard.

"Ah, my son!" he welcomed be-
nignly. "Have you sailed half way
around the earth since I last saw you ?
Wait, you have transgressed and scan-
dalized the mandates of the church.
Come into the sala and explain your
conduct."

When they sat down the shipmaster
drew a waterproof case from the inner
pocket of his coat, and taking out a
document, handed it to the missionary,

YSABELLA

155

who examined it closely. "This is a
marriage certificate?"

"Yes ; it was witnessed by my friend
Captain Barry. We were married in
Valparaiso last year when we sailed
from San Diego/' replied Fitch. f

"I will forgive your reported mis-
deeds in view of your marriage certi-
ficate, my son. But you must attend
more strictly to the ordinances of the
holy church."

"I am earnestly desirous of pursuing
the right course, Reverend Padre. Gov-
ernor Echandia interposed such re-
strictions, however, owing to personal
feelings, that my wife and I took the
only course left to us."

"I understand."

"Are you ready to transact business
with me?' 7 asked the Captain.

"I sold my last pile of hides to Cap-
tain Cooper./' answered the mission-
ary. "However, I shall have one thou-
sand more hides when you come again.
I will reserve them for you and send
them to our storehouse at San Pe-
dro."

"Gracias," replied Fitch.

An Indian boy brought in hot choco-
late and barley tortillas with fruit.

At sunset the sweet toned bells in
the tower called the faithful to pray-
ers. The church was thronged with
dusky worshipers. Captain Fitch en-
tered the church and prayed el rosa-
rio. In his soul he saw the image of
his wife with inward vision. "My
Rose/ ; he thought, "is the demon of
revenge following you?" He left the
church and joined the missionaries in
the refectory, where a bountiful dinner
was spread, and after some conversa-
tion regarding his travels, he retired.

At dawn the church bells summoned
the Indians to religious instruction. At
the second summons of the bells they
breakfasted.

The captain attended mass and after
breakfast mounted his horse and rode
to San Pedro, where he ordered the
anchor hoisted and the brig's course
continued north.

Two mounted guards rode up to
Mission San Gabriel at nightfall and
bowed reverently to Father Boscana.

"Reverend Padre," announced Car-
los Olivos, dismounting, "we have
brought an order from Governor
Echandia.

"What do you mean?"

"An order for the arrest of Captain
Fitch/' explained the guard.

"Captain Fitch is not here. He rode
away this morning."

"We are too late, then. The gov-
ernor has sent orders to the comman-
dante at Santa Barbara to arrest him,
if he calls at that port."

"What is the charge?" asked the
missionary.

"Violation of the laws of church
and province."

"It is too late to pursue him tonight.
Enter, my sons, and take food and
rest with God's blessing."

The next day, Father Sanchez, presi-
dent of all the missions in California,
arrived at San Gabriel Arcangel, where
he resided, having been away on a
tour of inspection of the other mis-
sions. "Is everything prospering at
San Gabriel?" he inquired.

"There is a serious disturbance, ow-
ing to the arrival of two soldiers from
Presidio San Diego with an order for
the arrest of Captain Fitch," informed
Father Boscana.

"Arrest Captain Fitch! Is he here
again?"

"He was here yesterday."

"What was the charge for his ar-
rest?" pursued the father superior.

"Violation of the marriage laws."

"What! This subject is within the
jurisdiction of the holy church, and
Governor Echandia has no right to
interfere," declared Father Sanchez,
indignantly.

"I thought so, myself, but as the
transgressor was not here, I repressed
my opinion," returned Father Bos-
cana.

"I am deeply wroth with the gov-
ernor for usurping my authority in ec-
clesiastical matters," continued the
president. "He should keep within
his political bounds."

"Captain Fitch showed his marriage
certificate to me, and it seemed authen-
tic."

156

OVERLAND MONTHLY

"Captain Fitch was very irregular
in his actions which have scandalized
the whole of California/' declared the
father superior.

"He hinted that Governor Echandia
held a personal feeling in issuing his
decree against foreigners, having ad-
mired Senorita Ysabella himself. The
captain and his betrothed bride were
obliged to flee from the province in
order to marry/' explained the asso-
ciate missionary.

"Then Captain Fitch did not abduct
the Senorita. There was a rumor to
that effect"

"Senorita Ysabella chose to go with
the captain, I understood."

"That puts a different aspect on the
case. Governor Echandia has shown
a spirit of jealousy and revenge. I
would have him arrested for usurping
my ecclesiastical authority if he were
not so near the close of his official
term. General Manual Victoria has
been appointed by the Mexican gov-
ernment and was expected to take his
office as governor of California before
this time. This and Echandia's high
station, alone, make me hesitate,
should he pursue his policy with Cap-
tain Fitch, the culprit shall be tried
here. I, myself, will order his arrest,
and justice shall be meted out regard-
less of the governor," declared the
president, seating himself at a writing
table. "I wish this order sent at once,"
he indicated, carefully closing the doc-
ument with the seal of the church.

Father Boscana lifted a polished oak
knocker on the table and summoned
an Indian page. "Tell Manuel Guerra
to come here."

The vaquero soon appeared. "Ave
Maria Purisima!" he saluted, bowing
deeply.

"Take this document to San Fer-
nando, my son, and ask Padre Ybarra
to forward it to Padre Jimento at Santa
Barbara. There are full particulars
within," directed the president.

The lithe, bronze Indian bowed rev-
erently and took the missive, kissing
the hand of the missionary. "Yes,
Padre Sanchez/' he replied. He went
quickly to the kitchen and stood be-

fore the chimney while eating a hasty
lunch. The Indian cook wrapped a
package of tamales in fresh corn husks
with jerked meat, and handed it to
him. Then running to the corral, the
courier threw a bridle on his horse,
placed the message securely in the
pocket of his saddle and rode swiftly
from the Mission.

CHAPTER XV.

On a bright day in January the Ven-
ture dropped anchor at the port of
Santa Barbara. The clear, golden
atmosphere silhouetted the white
dwellings and Mission sharply against
the dark, curving mountain wall be-
hind them.

Ysabella gazed with interest toward
the shore.

"Will you accompany me to the Mis-
sion, cara mia?" asked Captain Fitch.

"Not today, I think, caro mio/' re-
plied the wife.

"Very well! Another day may suit
you better."

Ysabella nodded, her nerves were
yet unstrung by her reception at San
Diego.

"Good!" exclaimed the master, re-
moving a spyglass from his eyes.

"What is good?" inquired Ysabella.

"The Leonar is anchored yonder.
She is one of Don Virmond's brigs.
He may be on board. I will call the
vessel tomorrow. If Don Feliciana is
on board she may be company for
you," suggested the captain.

"That would be very good. Please
return from the Mission as soon as pos-
sible," begged Ysabella.

"That I will do," promised Fitch,
descending to his boat. The keel soon
gound on the sand, and the shipmaster
walked up to the imposing Mission and
was received by Father Jimeno.

"Why did you ignore the ordinances
of the church, my son ?" asked the mis-
sionary.

"There was no other way," answered
Captain Fitch, who repeated his ex-
planations and produced his marriage
certificate.

"I cannot pass your offense by

YSABELLA

157

lightly, but it is within the jurisdic-
tion of the padre presidente; there-
fore the order of your penance rests
with him. 77

"If necessary, I am willing to take
any penance within reason," replied
the captain.

"Very well, my son, you seem to
exhibit the right spirit."

"I have a cargo of Boston goods in
the harbor. Is there anything you
would want to buy?" pursued Fitch.

"Yes, I need some bolts of cotton
cloth to make shirts for my Indian
men and gowns for the women. I will
come this afternoon, my son. 77

"Have you any hides to sell? 77

"There are three piles of five hun-
dred hides each in the storehouses. I
will send them in carretas to the shore
at once. Come and lunch with me,
my son. We will discuss this affair
of Napoleon. 7 '

Captain Fitch outlined that the Bos-
ton Nev/s Letter had stated that the
governments of the nations of Europe
were changing in some cases since the
invasion of Napoleon into France, Rus-
sia, Italy, Germany, The Netherlands
and Spain. Napoleon placed his bro-
ther Joseph on the throne of Spain
and dethroned Ferdinand VII. This
was the cause of the revolutions in
Spanish America. And Spain, the
most magnificent empire on earth, was
reduced to a dependency for a time.

"Ah! The overwhelming ambition
of Napoleon for power was his ruin, 77
returned the Missionary. "I would
that Spain retrieved her ancient
strength and glory."

"Those nations will regain their bal-
ance of power, 7 ' prophesied Fitch, ris-
ing from the table. "I must return to
the Venture. I left my wife and son
on board the vessel."

"A son! Has he been baptized in
the church?' 7

"Not yet, Padre. My wife wished
him baptized in San Diego, but we
have not yet found an opportunity."

"Give him the blessing of the
church soon, my son,' 7 advised the
friar, as his guest departed from the
Mission.

Father Jimeno bound on his deer-
skin sandals, tightened his rope girdle,
drew the cowl of his brown habit over
his shaven crown and walked from
the Mission to the shore.

In the self-abnegation of these holy
men of God, they vowed abstinence
from luxury and traveled on foot from
Mission to Mission. By the example
of their virtues of gentleness and for-
giveness, they gained the confidence
of thousands of Indians. These child-
ren of nature drew near and presented
themselves voluntarily for baptism by
the meek apostles of the faith.

The church, however, was always
guarded by the sword. Soldiers from
the Presidio were detailed to remain at
the guard house before each Mission
and maintain its power.

Some time after Captain Fitch 7 s re-
turn to the Venture, Father Jimeno en-
tered the boat, which the master had
sent for him, and was rowed to the
ship. The captain had arranged a
storeroom with counters, where he dis-
played samples of his cargo. These
the friars inspected and selected cloth,
beads, "bright colored handkerchiefs
and articles which pleased the neo-
phytes.

The Captain invited his guest to
drink tea with himself and wife, and
ushered the priest into the main cabin.
Ysabella brought in her little son and
saluted Father Jimeno reverently. The
Missionary placed his hands gently on
the baby 7 s golden curls and pronounced
a blessing, while the child looked up
wonderingly out of his dark, Spanish
eyes.

A pot of steaming hot tea was
brought in, together with stripped beef,
ship biscuits and preserved fruit. The
company passed an hour in the ex-
change of polite civilities. And the
friar listened with interest to Ysa-
bella's animated description of her
visit to Boston and New Bedford.

"Ah! My daughter! 7 ' exhorted the
priest in leaving. "It was a pity that
you felt obliged to disobey the ordi-
nances of the church. Pray to God to
be absolved from the sin of disobedi-
ence. 7 '

158

OVERLAND MONTHLY

Ysabella smiled wistfully. "Yes,
Reverend Padre, I will play earnestly
to do what is right at all times."

"This is the true spirit of obedience
to God's laws," replied the friar, leav-
ing the brig.

On the following day Captain Fitch
and his wife called at the Leonar. They
found Don Virmond and his wife,
Dona Feliciana, on board, much to the
delight of both ladies. Ysabella gave
an animated account of her voyage to
Boston, and Captain Fitch entertained
Virmond with an account of his mar-
riage in Valparaiso.

"You have a beautiful child/' re-
marked the host, caressing the baby's
curls.

"My mother wished to keep him in
Massachusetts, but we could not leave
him on shore,' 7 replied the father.

After dining with the Virmonds, the
captain and his wife returned to the
Venture with the assurance that their
host and hostess would return their
call in a day or two. Ysabella felt a
reserve about discussing the anger of
her parents and remained silent re-
garding it.

The next day the hides from the
Mission were drawn to the shore in
carretas, dipped in salt water, dried
and loaded on scows, and stored in
the hold of the Venture.

"This looks like business!" ex-
claimed Don Virmond, who rowed
over with his wife and returned the
captain's call.

"If we can do as well at Monterey
and the other ports it will not take a
long time to collect a cargo," returned
Fitch.

"Whom do you think is in that boat
yonder?" asked Virmond, handing his
spy-glass to the captain.

"They look like a couple of sol-
diers. They are headed this way," re-
plied Fitch.

"Oh, Enrique ! What can they want
here?" asked Ysabella in a voice of
alarm.

"Sit tight, dear. They cannot harm
us on our own brig," assured the mas-
ter.

The soldiers boarded the ship and

called for Captain Fitch.

"The master is on the upper deck,"
informed the mate.

"What do you want?" asked Captain
Fitch.

"We have an order for your arrest."

"Arrest me? In whose name?" de-
manded Fitch.

"In the name of Presidente San-
chez."

"Where was the order issued?"

"At San Gabriel."

"What is the charge?"

"Violation of the marriage law."

"My marriage was perfectly valid.
I have no time to return to San Gabriel.
I would send my marriage certificate
if I could trust you," declared the cap-
tain.

"I will take it for you," interposed
Virmond. "We shall sail south to-
morrow."

"That is kind of you. I have per-
fect confidence in giving this document
into your care," replied Fitch. De-
scending to the cabin ,he took the
waterproof case from his safe and
handed it to the official, who inspected
it.

"This is all right men," asserted
Virmond to the guards. "I, myself, will
take this document to President San-
chez for his examination."

"Padre Jimeno directed us to place
Captain Fitch under arrest," continued
Ricardo Zimeno stubbornly.

"Tell him that I will furnish bonds
for the appearance of Captain Fitch at
San Gabriel; if the father superior
demands it."

Virmond took a notebook from his
pocket, wrote a statement and handed
it to one of the guards. "Take this
message to Padre Jimeno."

Ricardo Zimeno took the message.
The guards saluted and descended to
their boat.

"It was useless to defy Don Vir-
mond," muttered Estevan Gomez. "He
is as high in favor with the Supreme
government as Governor Echandia, so
I have been told."

"It would have been folly," agreed
his companion.

"What do you think of that order of

YSABELLA

159

arrest/' inquired Captain Fitch.

"The subject of your elopement was
in everybody's mouth/' said Dona Fe-
liciana. "There was a report that you
forcibly abducted Senorita Ysabella.
"That was amusing,, certainly. My
betrothed bride begged me to take
her with me. Was it not so, Ysabella,
mia?"

"Quite correct/' she replied laugh-
ing. "I did not wish to be left in the
power of some one who shall be name-
less/'

"I understand/' returned Dona Fe-
liciana, nodding her head. "I do not
blame you under the circumstances."
"I think President Sanchez will pro-
nounce your action valid, when I in-
form him of the conditions/' inter-
posed Virmond.

"All but running away in your ship,"
returned Fitch laughingly. "You will
not report that part of the episode."

"It will not be necessary. You
sailed with Captain jBarry and his
wife. That is quite sufficient expla-
nation."

"We never can be grateful enough
to you for your invaluable aid in our
desperate circumstances," returned
Ysabella.

"Yes," added Captain Fitch. "You
are our guardian angels."

The captain's guests dined with
them and left the ship saying: "Adios!
We shall meet again in San Diego."

The next morning the Leonar spread
her sails and headed south to San Pe-
dro. And when the Venture had re-
ceived the whole amount of hides from
the Mission, she rounded the bluffs
for the north.

CHAPTER XVI.

Reaching the cypress-fringed shore
of Monterey the Venture cast her an-
chor among the ships in the harbor.

"There is the Ayachuco!" informed
Captain Fitch, lowering his spyglass.
"She sailed from Honolulu, I think.
The Brooklyn from Boston is standing
beside her; and the Rover stands next!
I must see Captain Cooper!"

"That will be pleasant for you/' re-
turned Ysabella.

"I will inquire if Mrs. Cooper is on
board; that would be pleasant for
you/' responded the captain. "That
brig yonder is the Funchal, Captain
Anderson is the master and owner. He
is collecting hides. I must act quickly
if I secure some skins from San Carlos
and the other Missions near. Adios,
cara mia," called the master, descend-
ing the Venture's side. He was rowed
to the shore.

Governor Echandia sat in his office
with his secretary, Lieutenant Zamo-
rano, and his aide, Lieutenant Nietos,
having traveled north to Monterey to
deliver his official position at the capi-
tal to his successor. Lieutenant Nie-
tos glanced out of the window. "There
goes Captain Fitch," he announced.

"Captain Fitch! I order you to ar-
rest him immediately," commanded
the Governor.

Lieutenant Nietos hastily left the
Governor's office. He touched Cap-
tain Fitch lightly on the shoulder with
the point of his sword. "I arrest you
in the name of the Governor," he said.
A pair of eagle eyes frowned on the
lieutenant.

"What Governor?" demanded Fitch
shortly.

"By order of Governor Echandia,"
replied Nietos.

"Echandia! Is he in office yet?"
asked Fitch. "Why does he not leave
when his time expires?"

"Ask me no questions. It is my
business to obey orders. Come and
ask the Governor."

Captain Fitch wheeled angrily and
strode into the office of the comman-
dante-General. "Buenos dias, Gov-
ernor Echandia," saluted Fitch. "Do
you wish to see me?"

"You are an offender against the
laws of California."

"In what respect?" inquired Fitch.
"Presidente Sanchez, the ecclesias-
tical judge of the province, will deal
with your case. He has sent an order
for your arrest. Lieutenant Nietos,
order two guards to take the culprit
to San Gabriel for trial," commanded
the Governor.

"I cannot spend all that time riding

160

OVERLAND MONTHLY

to San Gabriel/' objected Captain

The fiscal, or government attorney,
Don Jose Palomares, entered the of-
fice.

"I appeal to your honor/' urged
Fitch, turning toward the lawyer.
"Why was not my arrest and trial con-
ducted in San Diego, where my sup-
posed offense occurred?"

"It seemed inconvenient You were
a bird of passage/' interrupted the
Governor.

"I promise to make my appearance
at San Gabriel on my way south/' de-
clared Fitch.

"Your offense was most heinous.
You are entitled to no concessions,"
answered the fiscal shortly.

"Will your honor have the goodness
to send for Captain Cooper, master of
the ship Rover, now in the harbor?"
demanded Captain Fitch.

"Captain Cooper is in the plaza
now/' informed Lieutenant Nietos.

"Bring Captain Cooper in," ordered
the chief.

The sea captain entered the office,
saluted the Governor, and the two ship-
masters greeted each other cordially.

"What is in the- wind?" asked
Cooper.

"I am arrested because I married a
native California lady," explained
Fitch.

"This is serious business/' remarked
Cooper.

"I wish to travel south by sea; if I
go by land there is no one to take
care of my wife," complained Fitch.

"Dona Ysabella shall be cared for
properly. The Province of California
will provide safety for its daughters,
without the interference of foreign-
ers," asserted the Governor resentfully.

"I have a house in Monterey where
my wife is living," interposed Captain
Cooper. "She would take excellent
care of Mrs. Fitch."

"Thank you," replied the husband.
"I would feel satisfied for her to re-
main with you."

"I think Fitch is trying to run away
again/' interrupted Palomares aside to
Echandia.

"Dona Ysabella shall be brought to

the pueblo and lodged as hostage for
the culprit," declared the Governor,
savagely. "I will send a letter to
Presidente Sanchez, and he shall de-
cide whether Captain Fitch may travel
by land or sea. Lieutenant Nietos,
go on board the Venture and take Dona
Ysabella to the home of Captain
Cooper."

The aide hastened to fulfill the bid-
ding of his chief. Captain Cooper
shook hands with his friend, Captain
Fitch. "Everything will be cleared
all right," he encouraged. "Do not
worry about your wife. She shall re-
ceive the best attention from us," he
assured, leaving the office.

Lieutenant Nietos boarded the Ven-
ture and approached Mr. Hatch.
"Good day, sir!" he saluted.

"Buenos dias, Senor!" replied Nie-
tos, politely. "I wish to see Dona
Ysabella. Is she on board this ship?"

"Dona Ysabella," repeated Mr.
Hatch. "Do you mean Mrs. Fitch,
sir?"

"Certainly! Senora Fitch! Yes, yes.
Is she on board this brig?"

Mr. Hatch, not being fluent in the
Spanish language, led the officer to
Ysabella and announced his presence.
"Mrs. Fitch, this gentleman wishes to
speak with you."

"Senora Fitch," pronounced Nietos,
bowing gallantly.

Ysabella looked up quickly, not hav-
ing observed the approach of the of-
ficer.

"I am the bearer of a message from
Governor Echandia," explained Nie-
tos in flowing Spanish accents.

"Governor Echandia!" repeated the
startled lady.

"Si, Senora."

"What is his message?"

"He desires you to leave the Ven-
ture."

"Desires me to what?"

"Leave this brig!"

"Leave this brig!" repeated Ysa-
bella, thinking she had misunderstood
him. "Why?"

"To lodge in the pueblo," replied
the lieutenant, stammering beneath her
steady gaze.

YSABELLA

161

"I will await my husband's return."

"Captain Fitch is detained at the
Governor's office until you leave the
Venture," explained the lieutenant, re-
gaining his dignified manner.

"Detained at the Governor's office,"
murmured Ysabella. "Why?"

"It is not my business to question
the orders of my superior officer/' re-
plied the aide.

"Oh, my husband! My husband!
Governor Echandia has separated us !"
exclaimed Ysabella wildly. She
reached to the cradle and leaned on its
clumsy strength for support. "Madre
de Dios! This is his revenge! Oh,
why did we not remain in Massachu-
setts, far away from his vengeance?"

For a moment she gave way to her
fear and weakness, then summoning
her pride she turned to the officer.
"Where am I to go?"

"I will take you to the home of
Captain Cooper and his wife," replied
Lieutenant Nietos.

"That is better," returned Ysabella,
resuming her calmness. "I will gather
some clothing," she proposed, trem-
blingly descending to the cabin. There
she wrote a letter to her husband:

"Keep your courage, idolo mio, as
I keep my faith in you. We shall meet
again soon. The world is wide, the
Venture is staunch, and Echandia's
supremacy cannot last long."

Sealing the letter, Ysabella ascend-
ed to the deck and gave it to the mate.
"My husband is detained at the pu-
eblo. Be sure and deliver this message
to him when he arrives. I am going
on shore," she explained.

"Certainly, Madam."

Ysabella wrapped herself and child
in serge cloaks and descended into the
boat, assisted by Mr. Hatch. Silently
the officer and lady were rowed ashore
where Captain Cooper and his wife
waited to receive her.

"Did you see my husband?" in-
quired Ysabella, anxiously.

"I left him at the Governor's of-
fice." replied Captain Cooper.

"I do not understand why the Gov-
ernor interferes with us here."

"Presidente Sanchez has sent an or-

der for his arrest."

"Ah!" breathed Ysabella with a
sigh. "We must endure the investi-
gation of the church. The presidente
cannot separate us permanently."

"This matter will be settled soon,"
condoled Cooper. "Come into our
house and make yourself comfort-
able." There Ysabella sank on a sofa.

"I wish we had delayed our voy-
age," she murmured, with swimming
eyes. "The commission merchant was
in such haste for my husband to come
again."

"The authorities are merely making
an example of you for future delin-
quents," suggested Captain Cooper.

"A person made all this trouble. Else
there would have been no elopement,
and our marriage would have been so-
lemnized in the regular manner," re-
plied Ysabella. "What is Enrique ex-
pected to do?"

"Your husband must proceed to San
Gabried for trial," replied Captain
Cooper.

"When?"

"Captain Fitch objected to traveling
by land. And the Governor has sent a
letter to Presidente Sanchez to know
his decision regarding the matter."

"Is he allowed his liberty?" pursued
Ysabella.

"Yes, I believe so, if he does not
see you. In fact, you are his hostage
in Monterey."

"My husband can attend to his
business here," replied the wife, re-
suming her calm manner.

"Come to dinner," invited Mrs.
Cooper, hospitably. "Our cook has
prepared some hot tamales."

The party sat at table and^the hos-
tess entertained her guest with anec-
dotes of New England which brought
the sparkle to her guest's eyes.

On the arrival of Lieutenant Nietos
at the Governor's office with the re-
port that Dona Ysabella was lodged
with Captain Cooper's wife. Echandia
allowed Fitch to depart, with the in-
junction not to visit her. He was
rowed swiftly to his brig and met the
mate.

"Here is a letter from Mrs. Fitch,"

Aug-6

162

OVERLAND MONTHLY

said Hatch, passing the note.

"She is true as steel; her spirit
bends, but will not break. We will
bide the enemy's time," he thought,
placing the letter carefully in his
pocket.

Secretary Zamorano went home to
his wife that evening with an added
line on his fine brow. "Whom do you
think has arrived in Monterey, Luisa
mia " he queried.

"Tell me quickly/' demanded Dona
Luisa.

"Dolores' sister, Ysabella, is here."

"Ysabella! Holy Virgin! How
came she here?"

"She came with Captain Fitch in
the Venture."

"I must go on board and visit her."

"She is not on the brig," informed
the lieutenant.

"Not on the brig?" repeated Luisa,
with lifted brows.

"No; the Governor ordered Lieu-
tenant Nietos to take her to Captain
Cooper's house."

"Why?" pursued Luisa.

"Reasons of his own, carisima.
Doubtless he claimed they were not
married," suggested Zamorano.

"Madre de Dios! Ysabella would
not go away with a man without mar-
riage," exclaimed Dona Luisa.

"That remains to be proved. Presi-
dente Sanchez has sent an order for
Captain Fitch to present himself at
San Gabriel for trial."

"So! The church has taken up the
matter. I will tell Dolores at once,"
declared Luisa. "Agustin, come with
me to Dolores' home." Dona Luisa
wound her silk rebozo around her head
and shoulders and Lieutenant Zamo-
rano replaced his chaco on his head,
and taking his wife's arm, the couple
soon reached the house of Comman-
dante Pacheco.

"Dolores mia, do not be startled.
We have news? for you," informed
Luisa, kissing her friend's cheek.

Dona Dolores' eyes dilated sud-
denly, "Is it of Ysabella you have
news?" asked Dolores tremblingly.

"Yes, cara mia, your sister Ysabella
is in Monterey and in trouble."

"My poor sister! I must see her
at once. What is her trouble? Has
Captain Fitch deserted her?" she
asked.

"Not at all! The Americano captain
is at the capital, but Governor Echan-
dia has separated him from Ysabella,"
informed Zamorano.

"Ysabella mia! What was done
with her?" asked Dolores breathlessly.

"Your sister was lodged at Captain
Cooper's house. Captain Fitch has his
liberty with the injunction not to at-
tempt to see her," explained the sec-
retary.

"I know not what to think," reflected
Dona Dolores. "Romualdo, come with
me to Captain Cooper's house." Do-
lores threw a shawl around her shoul-
ders, and, taking her husband's arm,
they walked swiftly to Ysabella's
lodging.

"Dolores mia !" exclaimed Ysabella,
joyfully embracing her sister. "I am
so glad to see you, and you, too,
Luisa," she added.

"Ysabella mia, tell me quickly!
Where were you married ?" asked Do-
lores, apprehensively.

"We were married in Valparaiso.
Did you hear of our elopement?" re-
sponded Ysabella.

"It was the talk of California," re-
plied the sister.

"We sailed with Captain and Mrs.
Barry, and she was my duena," in-
formed Ysabella.

"Did you not sail on the Venture?"
questioned the sister.

"Not till we reached Valparaiso,"
assured Ysabella.

"I am so glad," exclaimed Dolores,
embracing her sister again.

"The demon of revenge has fol-
lowed us," moaned Ysabella.

"Why did you come to California
while Echandia is here?" inquired the
commandante.

"We thought Governor Echandia
would be in Mexico by this time," re-
plied Ysabella.

"His successor, General Victoria,
has not yet arrived in Monterey," ex-
plained Lieutenant Zaborano.

"Ah! Echandia is holding the of-

YSABELLA

163

fice for his successor," returned Ysa-
bella, grasping the political situation.

"Yes, unfortunately for you," replied
the secretary.

"I believe he is glad of the oppor-
tunity of punishing you/' suggested
Commandante Pacheco.

"Probably," replied Ysabella. "The
judgment of my husband's conduct
rests with" Presidente Sanchez now, \
believe."

"The Presidente judge has taken the
authority from the very zealous gov-
ernor," suggested Commandante Pa-
checo wisely.

"The vicar will be inclined to be
more lenient with Captain Fitch than
Echandia would have been," prophe-
sied Lieutenant Zamorano.

"I am glad to know that," replied
Ysabella.

"Why did you run away secretly?"
asked Dolores.

"Surely you knew of the Governor's
decree regarding the marriage of for-
eigners in California," interrupted Za-
morano.

"What a tangle, Ysabella mia!" ex-
claimed Dolores, sympathetically. "Is
that your baby? He has your eyes,
sister."

"And his father's curls," added Ysa-
bella.

"We will go now, Ysabella mia,"
announced Dolores, "and we will come
again tomorrow. You will tell us
about your travels?"

Ysabella nodded.

"You have my best wishes in over-
coming your difficulties," offered Com-
mandante Pacheco.

"And mine," echoed Lieutenant Za-
morano, as the visitors passed from
the dwelling.

Mrs. Cooper led her guest to a room
which was hung with English chintz.

"This is pleasant," remarked Ysa-
bella.

"I hope you will have a good sleep.
Do not worry. No one shall molest
you. And the Governor dares not of-
fer indignity to your husband," com-
forted the hostess, leaving the room.

Captain Fitch rode to Mission San
Carlos de Rio Carmelo and secured

five hundred hides. The superintend-
ence of curing and loading occupied
much of his time with the visit of
the Missionary and the purchase of
Boston goods. ' He exchanged letters
with his wife by means of Captain
Cooper; but he did not go to her
lodging which was under surveillance
of the Governor.

In the meantime the Leonar anchor-
ed at San Pedro and Virmond visited
Mission San Gabriel Arcangel. Father
Sanchez received his visitor cordially
and examined the marriage certificate
which his guest produced.

"I will investigate this matter by
trial," informed the vicar. "Fiscal Pa-
lomares shall be summoned to try the
case."

At this moment a vaquero entered
the vicar's sala and, saluting him rev-
erently, handed a letter to him en-
closed with the official seal of the
province. Father Sanchez broke the
seal and read the letter. "Governor
Echandia desires to know my wishes
regarding whether Captain Fitch shall
travel by land or by sea," he explained
to his guest. "The culprit objects to
traveling by land."

"Was he arrested ?" questioned Vir-
mond.

"Yes, by my order," replied the
president.

"Captain Fitch has much business
up and down the coast and doubtless
objected to wasting his time in trav-
eling by land."

"If I was sure that he would present
himself here for trial, I would grant
him the privilege of traveling by sea,"
proposed the vicar.

"In my dealings with the gentleman
I have found him always a man of
his word. If he promised to present
himself at San Gabriel, he will do so,"
declared Virmond, emphatically.

"Do you think so?" queried Father
Sanchez.

"I am sure, and to prove my state-
ments. I will give bonds for his ar-
rival," replied the self-appointed dip-
lomat.

"That would be a proof of your
judgment. I will accept your bond.

164

OVERLAND MONTHLY

The culprit shall travel by water."

Don Virmond produced a heavy,
leather purse and deposited five hun-
dred dollars in gold on the table. "If
that is not enough, you" shall have my
diamond ring." The don removed his
ring, set with a large white diamond,
and placed it on the pile of gold.

"This treasure expresses your con-
fidence in the accused," remarked the
vicar. He took up a quill, wrote a
letter, folded it and lifted a wooden
knocker on the table, summoning an
attendant.

An Indian page appeared at the door
of the sala.

"Pedro, tell the messenger that I
wish to see him," directed Father San-
chez.

The boy disappeared and soon the
vaquero from San Fernando came into
the room. "Ave Purisima!" he sa-
luted.

"Take this letter to Padre Ybarra at
San Fernando and ask him to forward
it to Monterey with all despatch. Take
some refreshments before you go,"
directed the president.

The bronze Indian with the letter
kissed the hand of the Missionary, and
soon was riding swiftly to San Fer-
nando.

"I will relieve the Governor of ec-
clesiastical matters, and this case will
be settled according to clerical judg-
ment rather than private spite. Jus-

tice shall be maintained/' declared the
president. "Come and lunch with me."

The friar placed the gold and jewel
in the pocket of his habit, and leaving
the sala with his guest, entered the re-
fectory.

During the meal the priest and guest
discussed the Supreme Government of
Mexico, which was a subject of great
interest to the Missionary. * The secu-
larization of the Mission was a ques-
tion of vital interest to him and con-
sumed the time to the exclusion of
other topics. Don Virmond was able
to inform his host of conditions in the
Mexican government to which the Vi-
car listened attentively At the conclu-
sion of the meal Father Sanchez took
the guest's diamond from his pocket
and offered it to its owner. "Your word
is sufficient guarantee for your friend,
Captain Fitch. I was simply proving
your sincerity of speech," he explained
benevolently.

Virmond laughed, thanked the presi-
dent for hospitality to himself and
leniency to his friend and departed
from San Gabried Mission, wearing
the offered bond of the diamond ring.

When Father Sanchez was alone,
he removed a brick from the floor of
his private room and laid the don's
bag of gold in a cavity, where other
treasure reposed and the large receipts
from hides, tallow and grain found a
secure hiding place beneath the floor.

To be continued.

On the desert trail

A Border Wizard

By Howard A. Sturtzel

THERE was Crooked Knife, the
Apache, of silent movements
and sleepy eyes; there was
Frek Muldoon, rum-hound and
frontier wizard in various ways;
there was a troop of black cavalry,
having great good-nature, orders from
Washington, and several other handi-
caps; and there were hot mountains,
smothering valleys and dust-devilish
deserts of borax dust which bit its
way into a human membrane and
caused a gallon-greed which only
drowning would assuage. All this
down in a few square miles in the salt
sinks of southern Arizona.

It began forty years ago when a
young Indian buck started out on a
lone war against the whites. On that

memorable summer when the great
Cook gave the death blow to the worst
band of Apaches the southwest had
known, in a canyon of the Salt River,
a four-year-old Indian male child was
one of the handful of survivors. His
father had died shrieking defiance at
the whites ; his mother was crushed by
a blow from a stone hurled down into
the canyon. A rifle ball had grazed
the throat of the child, leaving a deep,
bleeding welt. When the fight was
over, a panting red-haired cavalry
man bound a piece of his salty under-
shirt about the baby's wound; tucked
a bare foot in each of his saddle bags,
and rode forward laughing. That
laugh was unseemly.

All this time there was no whimper

166

OVERLAND MONTHLY

from the captive. He stared sleepily
from troop horse to trooper, from the
trail to the skies, meanwhile clutching
tightly with his tiny fingers the blue
shirt of the soldier. Even then his
eyes were sleepy eyes, for he was
Crooked Knife.

The remnants of the great race
which had adhered to lawlessness
since the days of Cortez had little fight
left after Crook's killing. They began
to go "doggo," and put on the armor
of righteousness. Soon they were
planting corn and training melon vines.
Instead of famine and thirsty, bloody
raids, heathen orgies and lupine trail-
ing with a death at the end of each
trail there came a season of intensive
agriculture. The demon unrest slowly
died, and the desert scourge that had
been the Apache nation learned to
breathe within boundaries.

All this would have lasted for a
thousand years had it not happened
that politics reached the territory. A
gang of "jumpers" and bribe venders
from the Dakotas influenced Wash-
ington to send the Apaches south to
the sand wastes of the San Carlos,
where there were singing flies, fever
and foul water. And here, in the
midst of his decadent people, a sullen
savage with sleepy eyes grew to man-
hood plotting and hating.

This .brings us to Captain Brad-
shaw, and his Black Cavalry. Brad-
shaw was Nick Bradshaw of the mem-
orable 9th, still remembered in border
lore. He was a fighter, a soldier and
disciplinarian, in fact a regular army
man. It is because of that that he
wasn't fitted for the job they had given
him "back East." Washington had
ordered him to ride through the Sand
Hills of San Carlos, putting the fear
of God through all the reservation
bucks of the Apache nation. Inciden-
tally, every one knew that half a hun-
dred picked "tar babies," under Cap-
tain Bradshaw were equal to a whole
average regiment under any other man
in the border service. But that meant
straight troop duty. In this instance,
however, the fifty were up against a
different proposition new country,

new redskins and Crooked Knife.

The first day in San Carlos there
was work for Bradshaw and his Buffalo
soldiers, and much work it proved to
be. Out on the Cinnibar trail, not ten
miles from town, ,the rancher, Fris-
bie, his wife and one herder, were
found quickly and quietly murdered
there. Nothing was stolen. The
marks about the ranch showed that one
Indian had done the work, but the
trail was lost in the river.

Bradshaw and his outfit rode out of
the post with two days' rations and a
joyous impression that they would re-
turn within that time with the muti-
lated body of the murderer over the
back of a led pony. They were gone
four days, and came in hot and savage
and ravenous, without having seen
even a trail. Meanwhile a sentry left
behind had been cut down, also two
sheep herders outside the town. There
was wanton devilishness in the carv-
ing in each instance. Some young
buck had gone doggo, or was on the
road to glory, that was evident. The
black troopers began to exchange long,
silent glances and make the sign of
the throat cut, while the former rou-
tine of the camp was hopelessly shat-
tered. Open war with an open foe
would never have disturbed darkey
humor, but now the darkey humor was
sadly disturbed as day after day news
came in of fresh killings with still no
trail, no motive. A cloud of supersti-
tion was rapidly settling over the out-
fit.

On the fifth day Captain Bradshaw
took a ride over to the reservation.
There were anxious eyes cast after
him as he spurred past the last sentry.
Over in the reservation he found a
sullen, silent throng. Something was
smothering the encampment, nobody
could tell just what. There was a
vague under-current of excitement.
The scrawny flocks and scrawnier
crops on the hillsides fared but ill, and
a student of the aborigines would have
declared that the tribe was expecting
a Messiah or rain maker in the near
future. Captain Bradshaw concluded
that a mighty secret was being cov-

*: eg

A camp on the edge of the desert

ered in the dusky breasts of the peo-
ple, probably as to the identity of he
who had committed the butcheries in
the San Carlos district. Probably
every responsible buck knew the mur-
derer and admired him for his crimes,
but Bradshaw knew there would be
no telling.

Next day there was another march
into the mountains, which ended in a
blind canyon. By this time the press
correspondent at Tucson had^ for-
warded the news to Washington in the
form of an Indian uprising. A few
hours later Captain Bradshaw was
cursing at a list of wholly unreason-
able orders from frock-coated men
who had never seen mountains, streams
or desert trails. Already he was sore-
ly overworked by forced marches
through a heat that beat down at py-
thon pressure.

It was just at this juncture that Frek
Muldoon rode into San Carlos and pro-
ceeded to concentrate everything wet
in sight.

The entrance created quite a stir in

the town, for Muldoon was a well-
known border character, a scout trailer
and desert rider who knew the south-
west as other men knew their cattle
ranges. A small man of jockey build,
he was, and he reminded one some-
how of the thwang of a bow string, so
taut and weathered. A bit of whale-
bone done up in sharkskin was Brad-
shaw's size-up as he looked over Mul-
doon in the Canteen bar.

Bradshaw made inquires. He found
that Muldoon could ride longer than
any man in Arizona, white, red or
black; and moreover, he could do it
on less grub, less water and less to-
bacco. In the field, Muldoon was a
raw, red demon, in a town a fool.
Altogether interesting, Bradshaw
thought.

Muldoon was at home anywhere in
the reservations, in the desert in the
Gehenna and Death Valleys. He was
dangerous when sober, treacherous
when drunk. He drank tizwin with
the Indians, pulque with the Mexi-
cans, mescal with the troops, and red-

168

OVERLAND MONTHLY

eye with all the world. It was a com-
mon saying that Muldoon was half-
wild. He had perfected what is called
the "pulse shot" with a heavy .44, a
shot that was neither from the hip
nor at full ; simply a draw, as easy and
infallible as the pointing of the finger.
He was noted for never carrying a
canteen on the hottest, dryest day, nor
had he ever been known to beg a drop
from one who did. He was like a
camel drinking appallingly when the
time was propitious and making it last.

Just such a man as this, Nick Brad-
shaw needed. But down in the town
was Muldoon going through a pile of
the long green at the Canteen, his ser-
vices not for sale. Bradshaw was
warned to bide his time, but it was
through personal contact that he
learned the calibre of his man.

Forty-eight hours later the trailer
was looking wise and fish-eyed, which
meant to those who knew that he was
nearing his second wind. The first re-
lay who had started out with him had
dropped out one by one, but Muldoon
was still going strong. Those who
were on their feet drank when Mul-
doon drank, or fought. Bradshaw
had the Irishman watched.

Grey dawn had come into the little
doorway of the 'dobe hut on the fourth
morning, when the harassed troop
commander sought his man in person.
Muldoon had broken at last under the
strain and had been put to sleep in his
quarters with a bed-slat. Bradshaw
pushed in past the ancient senorita
who owned the hutch, and leaned over
his man, shaking him roughly by the
shoulder.

"What f hell/' growled Muldoon,
rolling his head in the other's direc-
tion.

"I want you, Muldoon want you to
get into the saddle this afternoon and
lead the troop out after this murderin'
devil of an Apache. The whole prov-
ince is askin' why I haven't got him
strung up 'before this and full of
holes. Will you get into action for us
to-day?" The last was asked in a
tension.

Frek had turned on his back, fixing

the other with his pale blue eye, with-
out winking, without emotion. Brad-
shaw shifted in spite of himself un-
der that stare. He knew the type. He
had seen Muldoon drink, seen him
fight. Under the mask the rum had
put there he saw a man after his own
heart. Muldoon, however, in his pres-
ent state was not even the property of
his few friends, some devil of contrari-
ness that crept in when the bars were
down.

"Listen." Bradshaw drew up a
chair. "I'll give you ten dollars a day
bonus for the devil's carrion/' There
were streaks of grey on Bradshaw's
temples.

"No," snarled the trailer.

"I'll give you fifteen a day. You
know, Muldoon, you're the only man
in the country who can find a flaw in
a dew-drop."

"Lemme alone," said the other.
"I've got money left. I'm going over
to the Canteen again, and neither you
nor the devil can stop me."

"I'll give you twenty a day if half
of it comes out of my own pocket,"
Bradshaw said, rising.

"No, damn you."

"Then go to hell." The Captain
turned on his heel. It was not Brad-
shaw's nature to get on his knees to
any one. The thought came that he
might have Muldoon's money taken
away, or the doors of the Canteen
closed. It was entirely within his
rights. But Bradshaw was a regular
army man, not a shyster shark. He
ordered a trumpeter to sound reveille,
and forty minutes later the black troop
was in the saddle again, without Mul-
doon.

That night, tingling with shame and
rising anger, they spurred back again,
and still there was no body lying
across the led pony. It was the third
time. It was late that same night that
Frek Muldoon dropped down on his

bunk in the 'dobie hut broke.
* * *

Much brooding and much hate had
turned the head of Crooked Knife, the
Apache. His faith in himself knew no
bounds, but years of bondage had cast

On the edge of the mountains

a strange spell over his people, and he
over-hoped. In vain he had tried to
rouse them with oratory, moving se-
cretly up and down among the reser-
vations. But he had seen that the
time had come when deeds must tell
hence the murders. Great was the
zeal of the Crooked Knife, but mis-
guided. He had assumed the super-
human role of avenger and Messiah of
his people, and now was approaching
the crisis. The coming of Frek Mul-
doon to San Carlos was a thorn in the
flesh to the renegade.

The trailer had been known to
Crooked Knife before he left the Salt
River Country. The wily savage knew
that he could outwit Bradshaw and his
"tar babies" for a thousand years if
need be, but the drunken Irishman
from Texas was a different proposi-
tion. Of all the whites along the bor-
der, Muldoon was the one most feared
among the reservations. Crooked
Knife waited until the scout showed
signs of action then took to the moun-
tains.

"Do you mean to say/' Captain
Bradshaw asked wrathfully, "that you
knew Crooked Knife was the murderer
all the time ?"

"If I told you to ride over to the
reservation and arrest the buck who
was plowin' the hardest," Muldoon
said mildly, "I'd have about seventy-
five cents coming. And you'd get your
man about like they run in a pick-
pocket back East, and nobody'd be

satisfied."

* * * *

In spite of the fact that Muldoon
had been through a three days' grill
that would have ended in the mad-
house for many men, he was in the
saddle at the head of the outfit when
Bradshaw sallied out for the fifth time
on the trail of Crooked Knife.

All through that hideously hot day
he led the outfit southward along the
banks of the Catalina river the trailer
himself splashing through the bed of
the stream most of the way. What
he saw among the pebbles of the bot-
tom and along the rocky banks, no one
knew, but he never wavered. By noon
the darkeys were spurring constantly,
and the mid-day heat stung like a
horde of gnats. In the Sand Hills
country the desert throbs as from an
underground furnace, and the shim-
mering air stirs in quivering strata.
The very constituents that made men

170

OVERLAND MONTHLY

of the troopers seemed to be sucked
out of their pores and turned to dust.
Captain Bradshaw seemed to be
thralled in a mighty fascination as he
bent forward in the saddle watching
the strange pony and the stranger
rider ahead, Sadie, the first sergeant of
the troop, one of the best Buffalo sol-
diers in the army a darkey who could
sing like an angel and curse like a coal
passer was applying his talents in the
latter direction now. Many of the
throats behind him were too dry to
even curse.

Often Frek Muldoon would turn a
sneering face back at the troop and

less creature in the saddle ahead
that he could be so unlike other men
that nature showed him secrets as on
a scroll. Captain Bradshaw dared not
doubt, but he hoped passionately.

About two in the afternoon Frek
whirled his pony to the right and am-
bled up the west bank of the stream,
making for a range of foothills. Once
he retraced the hoofprints for a hun-
dred yards; then started off at a tan-
gent. The horses were dragging their
hind feet now and lolling their ton-
gues. The men were slumped for-
ward in their saddles, gazing fixedly,
unseeingly ahead. They named Mul-

The town in the little valley

quicken the pace of his deathless cay-
use, watching meanwhile the havoc he
was creating. Now and then Captain
Bradshaw would give a husky word of
cheer to keep his men in the saddle,
but his thoughts were far removed
from the tenure of the expedition and
the growlings of his men. His reputa-
tion hung in the balance, yet he was
powerless to make or mar his fame.
All depended upon the inhuman devil
ahead, who sneered back at his men
through the molten heat. Captain
Bradshaw fell to wondering what man-
ner of woman had mothered that tire-

doon a fiend, and believed deep down
in their hearts that they were not far
wrong.

A sheer mountain slope rose ahead,
the sun sinking on the far side, when
they halted at last for flapjacks and
coffee. Mutiny was beginning to heave
in the brains of the blacks. They had
been thirteen hours in the saddle with-
out a pause for grub, and they were
hourly drawing farther from San Car-
los. The trail they were on was ad-
mirable for a mountain goat or an
eagle.

That night they fell upon the rations

A BORDER WIZARD

171

like a swarm of crows, all but Mul-
doon. He picked up a couple of hard
tack and a slice of bacon and went
apart. He munched slowly, seemed
to want no more. In silence he ap-
peared to be communing with the dusk
and the desert. Wolf, his wicked lit-
tle pinto, was just as tough and ugly
as himself, and just as reclusive. He
was built like an Arab, and all day he
had scrambled like a cat over rocks,
gulleys and shifting sands. With the
exception of Muldoon, Wolf bit and
kicked at every one who came near.
Bradshaw fell to musing upon these
two outlaws, savage, unsentimental,
physically flawless, morally zero.

* * * *

Grub over, Muldoon dragged them
on for another four miles. The young
moon found them at the entrance to a
rocky, desolate pass, leading up into
the Mohair range. Frek Muldoon sud-
denly wheeled his pony about and
faced Captain Bradshaw :

"What'do I get," he asked sullenly,
"for the carcass of Crooked Knife?"

"I'll recommend the payment of five
hundred dollars for that carcass,"
Bradshaw answered softly, "and
what's more, Fll see that you get it."

"Stay here till I come back," Mul-
doon answered, "and feed your tar
babies. It may be two hours or four
hours or all night with me. And
keep quiet while I'm gone."

He turned Wolf's head to the left,
and two minutes later was lost in the
defile. The troopers breathed again.
The horses were picketed and fed,
fires lighted and tarps spread. Half
an hour later, true to darkey nature,
the mutiny had given way to dicing

and charity for all the world as pipes
began to glow. Sentries say that Cap-
tain Bradshaw slept not a wink that
night, but paced steadily along the
picket line his ears straining for the
hoof-beats of Muldoon's Wolf.

The Captain was not rewarded.
Dawn broke on the little command
without a sound or sight of the trailer.
Two hours of daylight passed, and
Bradshaw's face had become anxious
and haggard. At length he ordered his
men to saddle, and when all was ready
he took up the trail Muldoon had left.
That was a bitter climb. Top Ser-
geant Sadie can describe it to you
vividly. The time came when the
troop horses could go no farther, and
the men pushed forward on foot. It
was mid-day before they heard far up
in the heights a sound not unlike the
bleat of a ram.

Not long afterward the panting cav-
alrymen found the body of Frek Mul-
doon, master of the trail. There was
a bullet hole in his breast, and the
spotted cayuse, Wolf, was standing
guard with lowered ears and untam-
able eyes. A little farther on was the
body of Crooked Knife, Messiah and
avenger of his people. There was a
bullet-hole in his bare breast, and his
body had been mutilated by the heels
of a pony. Ten paces beyond was a
gorge where all trails ended. An eagle
could span it, but not a man.

When Captain Bradshaw and his
Buffalo soldiers rode through the
Apache reservation on the way back
to the post, they found the Indians ap-
plying themselves with most amazing
activity to their flocks and farms.

Five Years on a Homestead

By Ars. J. C Osborn

(Continued From Last Aonth)

CHAPTER II.

ONE of our near neighbors was
an Englishman who had come
from Illinois, where he still
had a wife living. She had
heard "dreadful" stories of the hard
life of the women on the Dakota home-
steads, after her husband had taken
his, and absolutely refused to come
to him, as had been their intention.
Living alone, with his disppointment,
had made him what the "boys" called
"kind-a queer." He had invested too
much capital and energy on his home-
stead for him to be willing to leave it,
and resented that "Kate" would not
come where he could provide a home
for her. For weeks he had no com-
panions but his dogs and horses, and
he got to thinking of them as almost
human, or better than human beings,
perhaps, so he talked to them, and
in time began taking them into the
house. The boys all called him "little
Joe," and that is the name I shall in-
troduce him. Try to imagine a little
man, scarcely five feet in height,
dwarfed from a child in an English
coal mine, arms much too long for his
short body, with hands that hung be-
low his knees, his upper front teeth
broken off so the lower ones had
grown long to meet them; a face that
was wrinkled and scarred by burning
caused by a gasolene explosion in a
coal mine, pale blue eyes, drooping
long mustache, and you have little
Joe.

We used to call him the "missing
link." His shack and barn were well
in sight of us, with only one claim be-

tween. That