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McCLURE'S MAGAZINE

ILLUSTRATED

PUBLISHED MONTH L\

Volume XV.
MAY, 1900, to OCTOBER, 1900

S. S. JWcCLURE CO.

NEW YORK AND LONDON
1900

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COFYRIGHT, tgoo, BY

S. S. McCLURE CO.

• ••*

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CONTENTS OF McCLURE'S MAGAZINE.

VOLUME XV.
MAY, 1900, TO OCTOBER, 1900.

PAOC

AMERICAN DIPLOMACY, AN UNWRITTEN CHAPTER IN. A. Maurice Low. lUuitrated 255

BIGGEST STEAMSfflP AFLOAT, THE. Earl Mayo. lUuttrated 64

BONDS, UNITED STATES, AN HISTORIC SALE OP, IN ENGLAND. Hon. George S. Boutwell... 417

BRYAN. A Character Sketch. Wiluaii Allen White 232

BUILDING A GERMAN OCEAN-GREYHOUND. How the Swiftest and Moot Costly op All Ocean

Steamships was Built. Ray Stannard Baker. lUmtrated 432

CAPE NOME GOLD FIELDS, THE. Their Remarkable Product and Promise.— The Life of the

Miners.— The Growth of Nome City. Wiluam J. Lampton. lUuttrated 134

CASTING A GREAT LENS. A New Venture in Practical Philanthropy. Ray Stannard Baker.

lUuttrated 544

ECUPSE OF THE SUN. THE COMING TOTAL. Professor Simon Newcomb. lUuttrated 45

EDITORIAL NOTES 95

EXPERIMENTS IN FLYING. An Account of the Author's Own Inventions and Adventures.

0. Chanute, lUuttrated 127

FICTION : Short Stories.

AT THE DOVELY8\ Sewkll Ford 112

AVERTED TRAGEDY, AN. Gbrtrdde Norton 217

CADET AT THE BATTLE OP THE YALU, A. Adachi KiNNOsuKfi. lUustrated 99

CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA. Gborub Bbardslet. lUuitrated 303

CHANCE SHOT, A. Henrt Wallack Phillips. lUuttrated 380

COMEDY OP REBELLION, A. Clinton Robs. Jltwitrated 411

CONDUCTOR PAT PRANCI8. Prank H. Spbarman. lUwtratfd 330

DfeBUT OP BIMBA8HI JOYCE, THE. A. Conan Dotlb 00

GOVERNOR'S REHEARSAL, THE. Charles Warren. lUuttrated 76

GRIT OP WOMEN. Jack London 834

HER HUSBAND'S WEAKNESS. Mtra Williams JARmx. &M

HORSE-THIEP, THE. E Hocou. rUustraUd S55

HOW McGR.\TH GOT AN ENGINE. Prank H. Spearman. JUuetrated 443

JACK AND JILL OP THE SIERRAS, A. Bret Harte. lUuetraUd 219

LITTLE BOY AND HIS PA, THE. Ellsworth Kelley i:3

LITTLE PEMININE CASABIANCA, A. George Madden Martin. lUustrated 249

LOVE STORY, A. Anna Webster 673

MADEMOISELLE PARCHESL Gelett Burgess. lUmtrated 496

MAN WITH THE GASH, THE. Jack London. lUustrated 459

MEMBER PROM THE NINTH, THE. Jambs Gardner Sanderson ISO

MISS CULLENDER'S LAMB. Tighe Hopkins 58

NIGHT RUN OF THE "OVERLAND," THE. Elmore Elliott Pbake. lUmtrated 143

OUTSIDER, THE. Rudyard Kipling 210

PASHA'S PRISONER, THE. Ror.ERT Barr. JUustrated 36

PIRATE AND A PRINCESS, A. Prederic Van Bxnsselabr Dey. lUmtrated 349

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?^_t\.-?: 'F ef:n4amin* t-dd, tiki Tiohe Hopkix. ::;

n v:^«'Jr ^PIKIT OF JlIKiMENT- THE. Ei rrw Ui *tt. / * v '.-/ r*;

-•?::i:T mF RE\'OLtTIOX, THE- No-WANlnsAX « :

TK\:»E W1XI>S. Edith Wyatt. rh*>^ftHt^d r*r

TK.M,ET)Y OF FROXTIEU FOirT LIFF^ A. W. J. ( *i.mt. 1 'h»'^v^-1 ^K

TTX" IN rOURT, A. Marios Hill. UU trn'^'i I'V*

Tri;xix(; of the ways, the. cu?rp»N- n.i-. / m>/^ '-/ \\

WATERFALL, THE LADY WITH TIIE. Anita Fit* u. / '»/*/r.,/, / %jf,

WHITE SHEEP, A. «. K. Tirn-r. JU^t^trnt^ i .... j->

nOIti^E, THE ANCESTRY OF THE. A Family Recced that Steeti^hes Ba«-k AB»)tT Tw*> kiLUas

Years. Frederic A. LrcAS. Iliugtrated r»12

KRUGER, PAUL. Some Scenes and Traits. F. Ei»MrxD <l\::aETT. Ill^utrated 157

L.\v;T0N*S work in the PHIUPPINES, GENERAL. Dean C. Wor. estee. Ulustniied I9

LEFi^ONS OF THE WAR, SOME. Based o.v Hngland's ExpEEiExrE ln the ?<mth African Cam-
paign. A. CoNAN Doyle. 561

LIFE, THE. OF THE MASTER. The Rnv. John Watson. D.D.

THE relations OF JESIS WFTH THE SAMARITANS AND THE PHARWEE^. r!i>frnf^*J

in color 3

JKSI'S* SYMPATHY WITH THE orr<\VSTS.-A Trm* al Day in Hi- Lvrthlt Lire, 1 1 .^ir^iUii 177
JESrS IN HIS RELATIONS WITH CHILDREN AND IN HIS DEALIV;«< WITH MFN IH**^

tra(*d 27^

A WARNINC; TO THE RICH— The IIojie at RET^%^^. IVuMtnit^d S<)

A LAST ENCOUNTER. lUn^tniff i 4j»>

JE-il'S BEFORE THE COVNClL-BEFoRE PoNTlUS PILATE. Il/u^tr-i/^'i 5.i5

LIONS, TIGERS, AND OTHER GREAT CATS, THE TR.\IN1NG OF. From Personal Intermews

WITH THE Leading Trainers of the World. Samuel Hopkins Adams Hiustrated 387

MORGAN, SIR HENRY. AND HIS BUCCANEERS. Cyrcs Townsend Br.\dy. JlUttroted 502

OLD JIM HORSE, THE. J. Lincoln Steffens. lUudrated 32

POEMS.

DEATH IN B.VTTLE. Alfred Oi.mvant 96

FISHERMEN'S PRAYER, THE. William Halk rjen

INDIAN MOTHER SON<;, AN. Wulih Irwix. lHuntnihd 74

LAST CHARGE, THE. Thomas Tracy BiUVK 416

THIRTY YEARS AGO. E. S. Martin 3lW

POINTERS FROM A PORCUPINE QUILL. Wiluam Davenport Hilbert. Illustrated 313

PRISON'ER AMONG FILIPINOS, A. Lieutenant-Commander James C. Gillmore. Illustrated... 2t»l. 399

PROSPERITY. THE NEW. Ray Stannard Baker. Illustrated 86

QUEBEC, THE FALL OF. Cyrus Townsend Brady. Illustrated 267

RAILWAY DEVELOPMENT IN CHINA. Lines Already Bcilt and Thu^e ix PRo.^itrT.— Rivalry

OP the Powers. Wm. Barclay Parsons. Illustrated o^

REID AND THE "GENERAL ARMSTRONG.*' Cyrcs Townsend Brady. Illustrated 186

ROOSEVELT, GOVERNOR— AS AN EXPERIMENT. J. Lincoln Steffens 109

SEA-BUILDERS, THE. Typical Instances of the Boldness, Skilu and Endcrance of the Men

who Erect the Danger Signals on Rocks and Shoals. Ray Stannard Baker. Illustrated.. 193
STAR-SPANGLED BANNER, THE. Some Curiocs Uncertaintif-s Regarding It in the Pcbuc

Schools. Marion Hill. Illustrated 262

STRATEGY OF NATIONAL CAMPAIGNS, THE. Reminiscencf:s of the Politk .\l Warfare op

THE Last Twenty-hve Years, by One Who Has Been in the Thk'k op u. Illustrated 483

TRUE STORIES FROM THE UNDER-WORLD. Josiah Flynt and Francis Walton.

IX THE M.VTTER OF "HIS NIBS ' Iliustraftd 356

A BILL FROM TIFFANY'S. lUmtrat^d 473

FOl'ND (U'lLTY. Illu^tratfl 61j<

WHEAT CORNER, AN INTERNATIONAL. J. I). Whelpley 36?

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TYPE OF BETHLEHEMITE.
A painting from the life.

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McClure's Magazine.

Vol. XV.

MAY, 1900,

No. 1.

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

By the Reverend John Watson, D.D.,

Author of " The Mind of the Master," " Beside the Bonnie Brier Biieh/' etc.

Illustrated from Paintings and Drawings by Corwin Knapp Linson.

PART v.— THE RELATIONS OF JESFS WITH THE SAMARITANS AND

THE PHARISEES.

could not be said with any
truthfulness that the atti-
tude of a Jew toward a Gen-
tile was cordial, but it was
friendly and affectionate
compared with his feelings
toward a Samaritan, whom he regarded with
persistent and virulent hatred. As often as
the Jews met for worship in the former times
they cursed the Samaritans, so that they
also had their creed in which uncharitable-
ness was raised to a virtue, and a hereditary
enmity was inflamed. No Samaritan was
allowed to give evidence in a Jewish court
of justice, and his position as a man was
the position of a slave, and worse — that
of a criminal. When a Jew desired to ex-
press his dislike of any man with whose
theology he did not agree, he called him a
Samaritan — just as religious people of our
day are apt to call any teacher a Unita-
rian who does not hold their theory of the
atonement — by which the Jews did not mean
to say that the teacher had been born in
Samaria, but only that he was a heretic,
which was quite as bad. This nickname was
the handiest (and sharpest) road metal with
which to strike him ; it was the most oppor-
tune name with which to bring him into con-
tempt, and it is a supreme illustration of the
principle of religious abuse, as well as a very
pathetic circumstance, that our Master, who
was of pure Jewish blood, and who was filled
with the noblest spirit of Jewish religion,

was called a Samaritan by the Jewish perse-
cutors and was said to have a devil.

This passion of hatred on the part of the
Jew against the Samaritan had two reasons ;
and the first, which, indeed, can only by cour-
tesy be called a reason, appears to have been
that the Samaritan was extremely like a Jew,
and there is no person whom the average
man so intensely dislikes as the person who
is of other blood and yet claims kinship. A
stranger he may regard with suspicion ; this
impudent neighbor he will denounce as an
impostor. According to their own account
of themselves, the Samaritans were the repre-
sentatives of the Ten Tribes, the descendants
of the few Jews who may have been left in
the northern kingdom when their brethren
were expatriated, and of those who found
their way back from exile. Perhaps a Sa-
maritan might not contend that his blood
was absolutely pure, without any foreign ad-
mixture, but he prided himself on a strain
of Jewish blood so undoubted and decided
that he was entitled to call himself a Jew,
and to include himself in the Mosaic cove-
nant. According to the Jewish account,
every one of his brethren of the Ten Tribes
had been deported into heathendom and had
disappeared, and the places of the exiles had
been taken by a pack of Gentiles brought
from the East ; and therefore the later in-
habitants of Samaria lay under this double
stigma, that they had not a single drop of
blood which was not base and alien, and that

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THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

they were usurpers in the place of the seed
of Abraham.

There was another and more tangible rea-
son for enmity, and that was not racial but
geographical. The Samaritans had set them-
selves down in the very center of the Holy
Land, and in a rich and picturesque prov-
ince, so that the country was split as with a
wedge by these alien intruders, and its con-
tinuity was broken. The Galilean coming
up to worship at Jerusalem on the great

paramount Eastern law of hospitality was
disregarded, and the stranger was left with-
out food or water. One has a vivid illustra-
tion of the state of feeling when Jesus and
His disciples were refused meat by a Samari-
tan villager, and His two hottest disciples,
realizing that a good opportunity for paying
back old scores had come at last, wished to
call down fire from heaven on the churlish
people. The sin of a strong man is tyranny,
and the sin of a little man is spite ; and the

THE VILLAGE OF SAMARIA FROM THE ROAD LEADING TO SAMARIA FROM SHECHEM.

feasts must needs go through Samaria, or
make a long detour by the Jordan. As a
matter of fact, the Galileans took the near-
est road, and, as may be imagined, there
was much friction between the Jewish pil-
grims and the heretic inhabitants. The Sa-
maritans had the power to make it pleasant
or unpleasant for travelers, and it was per-
haps human that they were apt to make the
journey anything but pleasant for Jews. So
strained indeed were the relations that the

JESIS AND THE SAMARITAN WOMAN {<mH»^\Ui
uasx').—./ejtu^ . . . btiNf/ wdiricd nith hi'* journey, ml thuM
on the utll : and it nag dfx/ut the rixth tumr. There ami'-th
a xcovMiu of Samaria to draw wv//^r.— John Iv. (i, 7. He hud
traveled ten or twelve luileH on fo<»t that mornmir. fu\)\nn'\ui:
Him to have rtste.l over nisrht at the inn at L«-lxw-ali It wa^
muffh walking:. He reached the well, and »«at on itn low ( iirl>
to ret»t- He did not intend entering the town, and n-nt Ili». *li-
cii>le« instead to buv hrea.l. In their uhH-rx.-. a w«.tnan of tlie
Sanmrttana (not of' the city of Hamaria. di-iant ei-lii niii«-»',
but of the wet ^ d«*piN-d of the .Je\^^) cotn.H to dr:iw wfit< r.
Her fln»twordf reveal the divinion and her a^tf.nihl.ni.-nt at
being addretwa^l bv a. Tew. for the difference Utwe.ri th*- Mo-
hammed.in and th'e Christian to-dav \» not rnon- wnrk-i\ than
was that lM;lv%e€ri the orthodox Jew and the Suniariian. I

Samaritans did certain mean and vexatious
injuries to the Jews. It was the patriotic
custom of the home Jews to light a fire on
a hill near Jerusalem at Passover time, and
other Jews passed the signal from hill to
hill, till the beacon flashed on distant cities;
and distant Jews, eating out their hearts in
exile, knew that the feast of deliverance was
being kept in the capital and that the Dis-
persion had been remembered. The bitter-
est enemy might well have sympathized with

had the tr^KKl fortiUM- to ifi««t «h«- roimtirimrt of this woman
at the "anil- H|Hit. When my drut'onnm .iiLinpt*-*! tiotuecon\t'i-
f.iUoii with h«r. Hhednw h<r \< il ar fo-^ li«r far*-, and annwered
w.jrilv, with tin- ni-totiiary < aiitir,n of a woman of ilu; land in
d<!ilint.' \M'h a f-tr.ii.u" r. Th*- woman came from Sychar, a
Unit mil*' from .larot/c W'll.

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JESUS AND THE SAMARITAN WOMAN.

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THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

this touching act and allowed it to pass, but
it was the cause of just indignation among
the Jews that the Samaritans would, out of
pure wickedness, light false fires on their
hills and throw the anxious exiles into hope-
less confusion. And so the Jew hated the
Samaritan, and the Samaritan returned the
hatred with interest.
When Jesus began His mission, the Samar-

vite — classical types of Jewish orthodoxy —
who pass the wounded traveler by, and a
Samaritan who saves his life; and so the
word Samaritan, which in the mouth of a
Jew was synonymous with Devil, has by this
single touch of Jesus become, through the
modem world, another name for Philanthro-
pist. So keenly did Jesus feel the scorn and
contempt cast on these unfortunates that He

MT. CtKK.|K|AV

MT.EAAX.

PICTORIAL MAP OP THE COUNTRY NORTHEASTWARD FROM SHECHEM.

Shechem (Nablas) Ilea in a rich and beautiful valley, with Mt. Ebal on tlie north and Mt. Gerizim on the south. The
latter, dignified, etately, embracing the cluetere of liouBes and their vineyards, 8ug^e8t0 an old man with children upon his
kneef«. For the town falls away from Ebal and huddles near to Gerizim, itn gardens climbing the slopes and its people
■pending leisure hours about the fine spring. Tlie vale of Shechem is rlcli in proves and orchards of mulberries, figs, almonds,
olives. While this opulence of green climbs high up Gerizim, the sides of El)al arc bare, rocky, or overgrown with cactus.
I found the iieople of the town none too friendly to a stranger.— A UTii»T'a Note.

itans were one of the problems He had to
face, and His solution is an example to the
Christian Church in every age. It was im-
possible for Jesus to ignore the Samaritans
— they were too much in evidence and too
insistent; it was not expedient for Him to
include Samaria in His work — He must con-
fine Himself to Israel, but it was possible
and almost imperative that as a Prophet He
should state His mind on Samaria, and as the
Founder of the Church should declare the re-
lation of His Church to heretics, for Samaria
is ever with us. His attitude to the indi-
vidual Samaritan was one of characteristic
kindness; and it is to be remembered that
friendliness to the heretic of your own com-
munity is, of all forms of charity, the most
difficult and hazardous. Yet Jesus goes out
of His way to say a good word for this de-
tested people, and to place them higher even
than the Jews ; for in one of His most per-
suasive parables it is the priest and the Ijo-

was ever on the outlook to vindicate their
character and give them credit ; and so when
He points out that, of ten lepers whom He
healed, one only gave thanks, He is careful
to add, ** And he was a Samaritan." Be-
tween these national and ecclesiastical out-
casts and Jesus there was indeed a pathetic
kinship, for He was called by their name,
and suffered more than their curse.

After His fashion of Divine simplicity the
deliverance of our Master on the heretics of
Samaria was given, as it were by accident,
to a woman on whose kindness Jesus cast
Himself at the Well of Sychar. He began
by asking water of her from Jacob's Well,
and He ended by offering her to drink of the
water of life ; but before they parted He had
laid down two positions, which are ever to
be kept in mind because they are full of light
and charity. The first is this: that the Sa-
maritans as w^ell as the Jew's are also the
children of the one Father. So many of His

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THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

children worshiped at Jerusalem, and so many
at Mount Gerizim ; those at Jerusalem had a
fuller Bible and richer privileges; but the
fact that the Samaritans had not been so fa-
vored as the Jews was no reason to suppose
that God was indifferent to them, and no
ground on which to ill-treat them. Jesus
did not despise the Samaritans because He
was bom a Jew
— far less would
He have perse-
cuted them. His
attitude was pity
and help. If one
has eyes to see,
let him thank
God. Why, in
the name of God
and Reason,
should he rail at
his poor brother
who is blind? and
why should he
wish to push him
over the preci-
pice ? After all,
beneath all di-
versities of race
and creed lies the
deeper unity of
the human broth-
erhood and the
Divine Father-
hood. Very soon
the slight distinc-
tions between

THE VALLEY OF MUHKNAH.

The large plain that leads into the Shechem valley Is reached after
crossing an elevation between it and the valley of Lcbonah. From the
ridge one gets the first eight of Gerizim, over the intervening treeless,
rocky hills. The sketch was made on one of those white, cloudless days
that make the landscape almost unbearably dazzling.— Artist's Note.

the Divine grace of the first and fifty-third
chapters of Isaiah to be comforted and saved.
In this way of it salvation was of the Jews,
and it is also of the Church Catholic. This
is that body of people which holds the Father-
hood of God, and the Deity of His Son Jesus
Christ, and the indwelling of the Holy Ghost,
the victory over sin by the Cross and the Life

everlasting; and
the only heretics
worth the name
are those who
somehow or other
have lost the
heart of this
Faith. Is it not
the case that the
Catholic Church
has had a strength
of faith, a fire of
zeal, and a glad-
ness of hope not
given to the oth-
ers ? The Jews
had Mount Zion,
the Samaritans
had only Mount
Sinai, and yet the
Samaritans, with-
out any Prophets,
were waiting for
the Messiah.
** When He Com-
eth,'* said this
outcast of Sama-
ria,*'He will tell

Samaria and Jerusalem would pass away and be us all things ; ' ' and to her He revealed Himself

forgotten in the wider faith and more spiritual as He would not to the rulers of the Jews, for

worship of which Jesus was the Teacher. He said, without veil or parable, ** lam He."

Jesus* own spirit was to dissolve all barriers Truly, as the woman said, the ** well is deep,"

by raising the children of His Heavenly Father and buckets of human creeds and theologies

to that level where men forget racial and bring up little water, and often much earth,

theological feuds in spiritual fellowship with but He is at hand who giveth unto every

God. Like other schismatics, the Samaritans simple soul the water of Everlasting Life,
were the witnesses to some unrecognized It is among the surprises which give a rel-

truth, and in their case it was the comprehen- ish to history that one age not only reverses

sive breadth of the Family and Church of God.
At the same time Jesus distinctly laid it
down that the Samaritans had suffered great
loss in being separated from the Jews. They
had the Law, and therein they were rich;
but they had not the Prophets, and therein
they were poor. They worshiped the true
God, but they knew not what they wor-
shiped. God the Lawgiver was theirs— the
Jehovah of Moses — not God the Redeemer,
the God of Isaiah. That. poor unfortunate
with whom Jesus spoke knew enough law to
be condemned and ashamed. She knew not

the verdict of another, but that the by- word
of one generation becomes the glory of the
centuries which follow. The opportunist
statesmen of his day despised Isaiah of Jeru-
salem for his Utopian dreams, but the ideal
righteousness of the Hebrew Prophet has
taken hold of the modern conscience. The
Apostles of Jesus were considered in their
own time dangerous men and disturbers of
the peace, but it is now evident that they
were the saviors of society and the builders
of civilization. The English ruling class
looked on the early Puritans as impious and

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON.

rebellious persons, but now every one will
admit that they laid the foundations of po-
litical and religious liberty; and while these
noble men who contended for the abolition
of slavery have won a high place in the roll
of Christian service, they were counted by
their contemporaries little better than an-
archists. Our Master is another instance of
the reversal of judgment on an appeal to
posterity. Jesus was, no doubt, persecuted
in His public life for various reasons, be-
cause He was indifferent to dogma, because
He despised ritual, because He would not
come to terms with religious society, be-
cause He did not keep the Sabbath after the
Jewish way. Perhaps, however, the chief
offense of Jesus was a habit and friendship
which His critics could neither understand
nor endure. He not only received unfortu-
nate and disreputable people and gave them
welcome, but He seemed to go out of His
way to seek those miserables, and what has
been His attraction since was Jesus' re-
proach then — that He was the Friend of
sinners.

Society is not more intolerant and unchar-
itable than the individual, but it has always
retained the right of exclusion, and, accord-

ing to the idea of the day, has created its
outcasts. Sometimes they are saints who
are sent into the wilderness for their good-
ness, sometimes they are heretics who are
ostracized for their error, sometimes they
are politicians who are driven out for their
lawlessness. About the year 30 society in
Judea was intensely ecclesiastical and pa-
triotic, and the experiance of offenders re-
flected its spirit. If any one had openly
broken the law and especially the seventh
commandment, or if any one had taken sides
with the foreigner, these two people were
put under the ban. It was therefore to be
expected that if a woman flouted morality
openly by making vice a profession, or a
man insulted his nation by collecting Roman
taxes, the indignation of society should
break on their heads. This woman has ever
been as one blasted for the sins of human-
ity; and though it be not always the tax-
gatherer, there is ever some trade to whom
no mercy is shown, and in the Gospels the
pariahs are the publicans and the harlots.

Between the attitude of Jesus and that of
the Pharisees toward those social lepers there
is a contrast so sharp that Jesus' conduct
must have excited criticism, and may very

THE VILLAGE OP SAMARIA.

Samaria occupied the gummit of the hill of Shemer, which Omri bought for a »ite for hia capital. Thi» hill, placed in thf miit»t of a
depression amony surrounding heights, is like an inverted cup in a large tHinin. There is a tradition that John the Baptist iron beheaded
here, and his tomb is shown by the Mohammedans. The town is now a collection of mud horels, sliding down the hill, instead of crowning
its top. The natives sit in the sun. yawning, dirty, indolent. The very atmimj^ere is that of degentration ,- the ancient streets are made
into vineyards, and HertMVs rohnnns protrude from the fields. " I will moke Samaria asan heap of the field, and as planti gs of a iHnt-
//rtr-rf.— MlCAH. I. «.— AHTIKT'8 XoTE.

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THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

A SAMARITAN.

well have been misunderstood. He was on
such friendly terms with Levi (or Matthew),
the oflScer in charge of the Capernaum cus-
tom-house, that He called upon him to leave
his business and become one of His followers.
And when Matthew, in the joy of his heart
at this admittance into new associations,
gave a feast to his poorer colleagues, Jesus
attended and shared the gladness. If He
happened to pass through Jericho and needed
hospitality. He passed by the houses of re-
spectables, where he could have been a guest,
and by deliberate choice passed the night be-
neath the roof of Zaccheus, a chief publican.
A woman who was a sinner had been so
touched by His Evangel that she had crept
into a Pharisee's house where He was dining
and sought mercy at His feet, and He who
was expected to order her forth sent her
into peace. In a fit of morality or hypoc-
risy a gang of Pharisees brought to Jesus a
miserable taken in her shame, and they cov-
ered the Master also with shame, but it was
her merciless accusers who slunk out of His
presence, and it was to the woman Jesus
spake kindly. When He made up His Col-
lege of Apostles, He chose one from the
publican class, and among His dearest friends
was St. Mary Magdalene.

One need not wonder that good people
were perplexed and found it hard to do jus-
tice to Jesus ; if they seem to us censorious,
they could make a good case for themselves.
A man, and much more a prophet, could be
known, it would be argued, by his company,
and it 3vas Jesus' habit to avoid the Phari-
sees and to consort with the sinners. He
was so determined, indeed, in His way, and
unabashed, that He would jest on the sub-
ject, saying to His indignant censors : ** How
could you expect Me to associate with you ?
I am a physician, and a physician goes to
the sick, not to the whole. You are per-
fectly well, as you are always telling the
world: I can do you no good. Am I a
prophet ? Then, of course, I need not speak
with you ; you are wise and good ; you are
everything which could be desired, and you
know everything : I must work with those ab-
jects which are out of the way, to do some-
thing for them, to teach them something."
With such lambent humor Jesus used to play
round those dull, pompous Pharisees, and
they still more disliked Him. He might be
a Teacher from God, but it was strange in
that case that He did not associate with
God's people ; He might be a good man ; but
why was He so much with sinners ?

Sometimes His critics were so irritated
that they lost all control of their tongues,
and allowed themselves the luxury of sheer
slander. ** He is a glutton and a wine-bib-
ber," they said in a fit of spleen, not be-
cause Jesus went to feasts, but because He
dined with Levi as well as with Simon, and
was more at home with the publican than
with the Pharisee. Jesus felt these charges,
for it is from His lips we hear them, but He
did not condescend to defend Himself. There
are slanders which refute themselves, and
one gathers that His enemies were the an-
grier with Jesus because they knew, as every-
body knew, that He was stainless. He could
stoop so low because His soul was so high ;
He could risk so much because He was so
strong. It is a fallacy to think that the
man who has most compassion on a sinner is
nearest to his sin, and that he who arraigns
the sinner most mercilessly has the cleanest
heart. None ever gave such gracious wel-
come to sinners as Jesus, and He changed
them into saints ; none made men into irrec-
oncilable sinners like a Pharisee, and his
heart was a sepulcher full of dead men's
bones and all uncleanness.

When Jesus thought fit to defend, not
His character but His mission, the Master
at once lifted the debate to the highest level

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON.

of reason and pathos, and offered to the
Pharisees the most convincing remonstrance
ever addressed to an opponent. It was not
His nature to think any one who opposed
Him must be dishonest or mad ; He supposed
that he was simply mistaken, and it was Jesus'
business to correct his mistake. ** You have
censured and slandered Me/' He said in ef-
fect to the Pharisees: '* you think that My
life is a huge mistake and little short of a
sin. This is not because you are bad or be-
cause you desire to do Me injustice: it is
simply because you and I have different
standpoints. If you saw these sinners with
My eyes, you would act toward them as I do,
for God has given you a reason and a heart."
One day, when His critics had been especially
severe, Jesus seized the occasion and made
His great apologia in the fifteenth chapter
of St. Luke's Gospel. "This man," they
murmured in genuine horror, ** receiveth sin-
ners and eateth with them. ' ' * * Yes, ' ' Jesus
said, ** and if you understood, so would you.
What man among you ? "

The controversy went far deeper than any
question of expediency— whether a prophet
. should have social relations with sinners —
it turned on two different views of God and
man, and on the scheme of Divine govern-
ment. According to the fancy of the Phari-
sees in all ages the Divine purpose is to select
from the bloom on the human tree a few buds
and bring them to perfection, while the rest
is left to perish. It is to produce from the
raw material a web of beautiful pattern and
color, which means that there must be much
human waste. As regards the world, one
nation, the Jews, were the chosen flower,
and the Gentiles were the blossom trodden
under foot. As regards the Jewish nation
itself, the Pharisees were God's finished work
and the publicans were the waste. Within
the synagogues, as in a safe storehouse,
were gathered the favorites of God ; outside
lay the huge unsightly waste-heaps. Noth-
ing can be done with the refuse; no one
wishes to have anything to do with it. Bet-
ter for the Church and for society to ignore
the sinners, and if it were possible, to put
them out of sight. It were a good thing for
religion if they could be collected together
and sunk in the depths of the sea.

According to Jesus the sinners were cer-
tainly waste and very dangerous stuff — for
He never belittled or condoned sin — but it
was culpable waste, the result of imperfect
religious processes. Had the elder brother
done his duty, the younger would not have
remained so long in the far country or grown

'j^'^^'.ioa

TYPE OF WOMAN OP 8HE:HEM.

so desperate. Mary Magdalene was an of-
fense to the community, but she had not
been so helpless or degraded if Simon had
not despaired of her and cast her forth.
What Jesus implicitly denied at every turn
— by His teaching and His death — was that
there should or will be any necessary or final
waste in humanity. Just as the progress of
science is marked by the recovery or utiliza-
tion of what was thought to be worthless
stuff, so that out of what is most unsightly is
now brought fair colors, so Jesus proposed
to make lovely saints out of these forsaken
sinners. As a great spiritual inventor, Jesus
moved among the residuum of His day, with
quick eye and hopeful heart, touching and
handling it with deftness and understanding.
Nothing of God's human work must be
counted worthless; in the end, nothing of it
will be flung away. Lost is a word with two
meanings : with the Pharisees it was a de-
scription— cast away; with Jesus it was a
prophecy — going to be found.

As usual, the Master made His appeal to
reason, and asked men's suffrages because
His view was the most fitting. Round Him
gathered a crowd— hearing the Pharisees'
criticisms, waiting for His defense — and He
was willing to abide by their decision. First,
He addressed a farmer standing in the sec-
ond row — strong, sensible, prejudiced. Last

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^r^'J fi*- oTwi, ar..: *#.rr,^ jean ago be had aof-
^^Tir\ ♦.:.*- jc^^n*-»t of huxan afflictioiia, which
U not tK*r 1 /-rf of a ».>n. hot his disgrace.
Hm yo'jri;(*-r M^n, a beadstrong bd, yet Iot-
ar/,f, h;i/l jpvfn him trouble at home— too
rrifjrh with the jray company at Tiberias —
and thfrn one day he departed to a distant
^ Entile city, where he played the fool so
nhameleKHly that the tidings came to his
(;a]i]ean home, and his father aged visibly.
Fellow Pharisees, like Simon, with whom be
UMi'd to feast l>efore he lost heart for feast-
ing, Haid he was well rid of the wastrel, and
that it would l)e a good thing if he never re-
turned. His father may have also passed
careleHH judgment after that fashion on other
prodigals, but circumstances had changed,
and he was silent at Simon's advice. He
could not be quite indif-
ferent to the fate of one
of his two sons; and when
the young man came back
an honest, humble penitent,
and his father, sitting
lonely and sad on the house-
top, saw him coming down
the familiar road, he forgot
the counsel of Simon and
all the other Pharisees, and
not only gave hhn puUk
>\vful welcome, but cele-
brated his return with the
feast of a king. As Jesos
touched on this happy
n>r/.\iK^e of love, the foces
of hard, s^ospicious Phari-
5<*e? ?o::ef>ed ; i\X tbey had
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:rt,r c»^ 6esk aai bkod,
:*^T. :>r]r al-vif^ec tx> <iod,
i.*-: ^ --- i T^.M «: ary ac-

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON

and beautiful in man, He gave at the same
time to the Pharisees the idea of a sinner,
and it was something which never could have
entered into these prosaic, frigid minds. For
the Master was persuaded that a sinner was
miserahle, and the very idea was strange and
almost diverting to
a Pharisee. It
seemed to him that
the sinners were
entirely happy
after their kind,
because they were
often rich, and had
a certain power,
and gaVe feasts
and lived riotously.
Perhaps there were
days when the
saints regarded the
sinners with envy
because of ** the
roses and raptures
of vice.*' Jesus,
who knew all men,
and had ever His
hand on their
pulse, saw beneath
the poor show of
gaiety and the
mask of bravado.
He knew the self-
reproach and sated
disgust, the bitter
remorse and wist-
ful regrets of the
sinner. According
to the Master the
sinners were
hungry and thirsty,
laboring and heavy-
laden, vagrants of
the highways and
hedges, a set of
despairing miser-
ables. They were
as a sheep which,
either through wil-
fulness or foolish-
ness, has wandered
from the flock, and

OLD WINE-SKINS.

** Srither do men put nete wine into old bottle»."—M.ATt. ix. 17.
bottliH are mtMnt nArins, irhich are of alt gizea. The antmal ia
nkinned lehole, aaiv the feet and head, the holea made by these being
aewed %ip. The skin is cured %eith tannin, and then soaked in water,
or left filled for saturation. It is also rubbed with olive oil, and
when water-tight is ready for use. The old wineskins become
spotted with patches, and finally become useless for anything as
faluable as ** new wineV

snare, an ulcer eating into the very vitals of
society. She was a sad tragedy, with her
degraded beauty and gay attire — a woman
ruined, a woman ruining. Was she not also
a soul made in the Divine image and intended
for high ends— a coin which had passed
through many un-
holy hands, and
now lay in the
mire ? She was
still silver, and had
on her the traces
of her origin.
What a wealth of
passionate love and
unreserved de-
votion was running
to waste in this
life ! Now this
piece of good
money shall be laid
out to usury, when
the eyes wherewith
she tempted men's
hearts to destruc-
tion shall shed
tears on the Mas-
ter's feet, and the
hair wherewith
she ensnared men's
lives shall wipe
them dry.

And the Master
dared to think that
every sinner who
had gone astray
was missed of God.
It might seem that
amid the multitude
of His creatures
one less counted
for nothing ; but
if any Pharisee
thought so, he did
not know the
minuteness and the
breadth of the
Divine Love. It
had no forgetful-
ness: it made no
omissions. As a
bookman will discover in the dark the absence

has lost its way, and is far from the fold,

rushing hither and thither, torn and bleed- of a tiny volume, as a gardener will mark the

ing, palpitating and terrified.

The Master also believed firmly that the
sinner was precious; and neither had this
occurred to a Pharisee. The value of such
a woman as washed Jesus' feet seemed less
than nothing: she was a disgrace and a

empty place where a plant has been once,
as a workman looks in vain for the tool
among many his hand desires, so does the
Divine Love have in constant remembrance
him who is lost, and will not rest till he be
restored.

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THE TURNING OF THE WAYS.

The rharisiees made their great mistake Home ; who went Himself into the far comi-
bi^au^ they did not know God, and Jesus try, nor ceased from His search till by His

Ihr^w Himself in the way of sinners because
He knew the Father. He was indeed the
true Klder lather, who saw the sorrow on
the FVither*s face as He mourned for His lost
younger son and could not remain in the

Grace and Passion He had found His brother
and brought him Home rejoicing. This was
the meaning of His strange friendships :
this was the secret of His unconquerable
hope.

(To be continued.)

Oh the road from Jerichn to J

THE TrKXIX(^. OF THE WAYS.

Hy C^ijnton Hoss.

A STOKY OF TO-DAY 1\ NEW YOKK.

HKKK another subject entorinl into the
t^ilk, 8Uggi»steil by the an^h that had
lHH»n ivirt of yestenlay's |v;\i^*ant. " War
and conquest," s;\id raj>tain Trevor. '* It's
the siime old world

*• As Osiir*s,'* the older man put in with
an anuisinl smile at himself, at oiroiim-
stanoes, at the world. His was the face of
the diplomatist; rarKs that syi the soldier.

Tarl too smiled, he did not know exactly
whv. ** 1 bt^lieve in Caesar/* he said, ** to
the extent of ' The White Man's Burden,' ''

••(>h, yes, it's true, and C^sar now is
s]>elt trade. Dut in regard to voting tbose
shares it's * yes,' Captain Trevor."

*• Why of course * yes *? Your interest is
mine, m.y advisers say. I am goings to defer
my own investiiration of my affairs some weeks
Digitized by — ^ ^ j^-_^

A STORY OF TO-DAY IN NEW YORK.

— a fortnight, anyway. It's very good of you
to come here to explain, however. I know
how valuable your time is, sir."

'* Ah, Captain Trevor, I wanted to see
what kind of man your uncle's heir might
be, and I am pleased to know you. You are
absolutely free — to have your interests not
give you a moment's trouble, if you so elect ;
or

" I know, sir, I know; but I am responsi-
ble to the family now. I am going at it —
after a fortnight."

** That is your uncle's nephew. Captain
Trevor. Well, I must be on my way."

The great banker went out, debonair and
smiling, and presently Carl saw his brougham
draw into the avenue.

"He represents all the combinations,
then," Carl said to himself, in a brown

study for the moment,
me— for his pup-
pet."

Yes, in this
autumn, 1899, this
man represented a
power that, founded
on trade and the
combination of trad-
ing interests into a
few hands, aspired
to secure and to hold
in the hollow of
one mighty hand
the whole world,
making and unmak-
ing public opinion,
shaping the policy of
governments, subdu-
ing all to its own
ends. And as for
Carl, his interest lay
with that power,
^t twenty-seven he
was at the turning
of the ways, like his
nation. To be rich
was to be perplexed ;
to be free — an end
some few of the
moderately well-to-
do and the unincum-
bered rich may reach
— was to be liable
to an abuse of free-
dom ; to be powerful
was to be a subject^
In the Square he saw
the passing throng.
*'They envy me.

And he wants

I suppose. I don't envy myself," Carl
said.

But what of questions ? At least he had
a fortnight — ^yes, a fortnight — to think ; to
get out into the country — over the hills and
far away — before he should turn to affairs.
He would have none of the artificialities of
the city to disturb him. He would try to
see clearly. Here in America, and every-
where, all was changing. We were mightier
and more involved. He would decide whether
the life of a simple gentleman and officer
should cease for something that had in it
servitude.

The death of his uncle, followed closely by
that of his cousin Philip, had left Trevor the
head of one of the very powerful families ;
and now he held voting strength in railroads
and other corporations, that made him sought
by those at the seat of power. Turning from

'YOU MUST GIVE ME A UFT.

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THE TURNING OF THE WAYS.

this brown study, he went down into the
Square and up the crowded avenue. It was
the season's height, and a great many people
knew him.

**That is Carl Trevor,'' he could almost
hear them say. ** Used to be in the army,
and then resigned and went everywhere.
Now he is the head of the family."

People nodded to him, and some stopped
and shook hands with this broad-shouldered
young man in deep black. Twice carriages
drew to the curb, and women spoke to him,
and he smiled cynically; for he knew how
great a catch he was. The men in the club
windows buzzed about him.

And so, nodding right and left, he passed
on — a man with the might of a king— and
few kings were so mighty. But what busi-
ness ability had he ? He had played at sol-
diering, and at knocking about, and at society
in five capitals. For he had been free. And
now he was no longer free. He paused for
a moment, looking at the town house of the
Trevors — his house. Its shuttered front
chilled him in some way. His apartment at
the hotel was more comfortable. And then
he heard a voice, and, turning, he saw some-
body in a landau.

She was fair to look at after all the women
he had known, and she brought back his
boyhood and his earlier youth. '* Why,
Helen!'* he said.

** I could not resist speaking to you, Carl,"
she said. ** I am so glad to see you again."

'* If you are, you must give me a lift."

"I will take you about the Park," she
said ; and presently they were whirling on,
and she never had looked fairer to him than
now.

** Yes, now it's all over — the funeral and
all that — I am wondering at myself," he

**The world is wondering about you,
Carl."

** But you, little cousin ? What have you
been doing all these years ? "

She was a far-removed cousin, but still
near enough for the head of the family to
feel it permissible to ** cousin" her. He
remembered that he never had liked Danvers,
the man she was engaged to. She was about
the nicest girl he ever had known, and Dan-
vers was far from being a ** good sort " in
a man's estimation. * * But women are queer
— even the best of them," is the man's
thought over such an occurrence.

** Oh," Helen answered, '* some shopping,
some riding and golfing and yachting and din-
ing— oh, you know. Did you know New York

yesterday ? I never saw so many people — did
you ? But 1 hate the town in a crowd."

'* So do I," Trevor assented. " But you
know we should remember that the people's
gladness over the country's might and splen-
dor is more than our comfort," he added,
with a laugh.

* ' Comfort. ' ' said Helen. * * Why, it would
be so uncomfortable to be anything but an
American. But, Carl, I have often wondered
why, after serving in Cuba, you did not go
to the Philippines."

** I think I should, if Uncle Jack had not
asked me not to."

'* Poor Uncle Jack," Helen said soberly.
" He was splendid, wasn't he ? "

** Yes," Trevor answered; ** and I don't
see how he held up under the weight of all
his responsibilities."

** Your responsibilities now."

** No, not yet. I am going to take a fort-
night— and then "

** Poor Carl," the girl cried, ** how peo-
ple envy you!"

** They don't know. But to turn to your-
self. You haven't told me about the wed-
ding."

''What wedding?"

** Yours, of course."

**0h, mine— mine, why — " She looked
at him, and seeing something in his face,
laughed. '' That's put off."

" Put off ? You believe in long engage-
ments?"

*' That depends," said the girl. '* Now,
you mustn't question me too closely. A
woman never will tell certain things."

'* Oh, I know," Carl retorted.

** I should think you did know. And you
must tell me about your affairs— after din-
ner ; for you must break every engagement
you have, and dine with us. Perkins " — to
the coachman — ' * home ! ' '

** And for this evening it will be my home,"
Trevor said, ** despite every engagement you
have or I have ; " at which Miss Helen Thurs-
ton caught herself blushing, and began to
talk rather rapidly about the parade of yes-
terday and to retail gossip and many matters,
which brought them quite to Mrs. Thurston's
house.

The avenue at this point was thronged, and
the girl suddenly grew very white. ** Stop,
Perkins!" she cried.

Perkins stopped, and she was out on the
curb before the man on the box could reach
her. Then Carl, who had been too much
absorbed in his companion to notice any
other object, saw that a woman had been

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A STORY OF TO-DAY IN NEW YORK,

run down, and that she was being carried to sion at Meadowbrook when a man had a nasty

the walk. fall.

"Bring her in here — carefully," Helen, When the ambulance surgeon arrived, he

who had pushed her way through, was cry- found a faded old woman installed in a bed

ing. in a front apartment at Mrs. Thurston's, ^nd

i«

11 /

■UK,

f^..v

__ \

'THE AMBULANCE 8UBGE0N
MENT .

. FOUND A FADED OLD WOMAN INSTALLED IN A BED IN A FRONT APABT-
AND MISS THURSTON AND A MAID BUSIED ABOUT HER.**

Then Trevor was by her sider. '* Yes, take
her in to Miss Thurston's," he ordered.

"Thank you, Cari. Help them," Helen
said. " Perkins, get Dr. Benton, and then
Dr. Ranford, and, if he is not in, Dr. Bron-
son, and— have them get a nurse." She
gave her orders with a military preciseness
that made Trevor remember her on an occa-

Miss Thurston and a maid busied about her.
The old woman was staring at her surround-
ings.

'* It's a bad fracture," the surgeon said.
** We will take her. Miss Thurston."

** No, she is to remain here," Helen said
decidedly. " I know it's dangerous to re-
move her."

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THE TURNING OF THE WAYf^,

•:i

" Yes, I will say I think it is/' the young
surgeon confessed, thinking this young lady
the most beautiful in the world.

The dinner was late at Mrs. Thurston's
that night. When, at eight o'clock, Carl
returned from his hotel, it was still waiting,
and, in fact, he and Mrs. Thurston went in
by themselves. * * Did you ever know such an
impulsive girl? " that lady remarked. ** She

AM TIRED OUT, DUT— AT YOUR AGE I WAS LIKE VOU. AT MINE, YOU TOO WILL
BE TIRED OUT. "

is always taking trouble on herself. She has
Dr. Benton, the best surgeon in New York,
there, and a nurse, and all over a woman we
don't know a word about."

*' She would make an admirable officer,"
he answered. ** I never knew a better head
in an emergency."

'* I am not sure that it's a good head that
will put a woman picked up from the streets
into one's best chamber," Mrs. Thurston an-
swered.

Helen, entering, overheard. ** I don't

care, ' ' she cried . * * I feel wicked — wicked !
I never knew such poverty. She has been
suffering for the necessaries of life, and she
is not an impostor. There was five cents in
her pocket-book; and that, she says, is all
she has— an old woman, bom a lady, left all
alone. She expected to be turned out; she
told me this."

** And you believed her, of course," Mrs.
Thurston said.
**But how is
she?"

*'Dr. Benton
says she may live
a week — not
much longer. If
she had had pro-
per food she
might have a
better chance.
Oh, Carl," she
went on, **you
must look to your

affairs — your re-

^ 41^0^^ sponsibilities —

V^^^^^f yourself — to-

^^^^^Bf night — not to-

^Hj^^K morrow. Think

^^^^^^ of the thousands

dependent on
you — the thou-
sands and thou-
sands."

After dinner
Carl was alone
with her, and he
said, ''I will
begin to-night,
Helen — to-night
— not after a
fortnight."

The girl crossed
to him. '* I could
love you for
that."

And he said,
**I love you,
Helen, for all of Danvers."

She looked at him, and then turned as if
to run; but he caught her. **For all of
Danvers," he repeated.

''There is fto Danvers— now," she said
softly. ''Oh, let me go."
" I never will, dear," the man answered.
That night he wrote Barton that he must
withdraw his promise about voting his shares
in the Industrial until he should see him.
When he had finished, he walked to a win-
dow and looked out on the still city. How

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GENERAL LAWTON'S WORK IN THE PHILIPPINES.

much was there — life; and life was work,
or else it was death. For the nation new
responsibilities; for every man new respon-
sibilities; for himself an endless vista of
business details, of demands for charity, for
loans, and the importunities of poor relatives
on the head of the family.

The next morning he entered Barton's
office. The great man rose to meet him.
** Ah, I had your note. You want to know
more about it. Well, you shall — everything.
But you are making yourself more trouble
than your uncle ever gave himself.''

" Oh, I know — I know — it's not necessary

for my interest — but I want to put my brain
to bear on the things themselves, because
they mean so many other interests — so
much."

The older man looked at him out of world-
weary eyes. ** I wish you were a son of
mine. I don't know whether you are right
or wrong. I am tired out, but — at your age
I was like you. At mine, you too will be
tired out. Yet I am glad you have chosen
as you have."

For it has been written that for king or
rich man who is a true man there shall be
no rest.

GENERAL LAWTOX'S WORK IX THE PHILIPPIXES.

By Dkan C Worcester,

Member of the United Stales Philippines Oomuiiiwiou 189e-18U9 ; author of "The Philippine Islands and Their People/*

55^ENERAL HENRY W. LAW-
TON'S military career be-
gan when he was but
eighteen years of age. Its
earlier chapters have re-
cently become so familiar to
the public that I shall con-
tent myself with the brief-
est outline of them. Within
three days after President
Lincoln's first call for men
he had enlisted as a private in the Ninth Indi-
ana Volunteers. He served with this regiment
through the Civil War, and at its close was
mustered out a lieutenant-colonel, after being
brevetted colonel '* for gallant and meritori-
ous services '* and awarded a medal of honor
for '* distinguished service.*' He entered
the regular army as a second lieutenant in
1866, serving in the infantry until 1869, and
then in the cavalry until 1888. From that
time until the outbreak of the war with Spain
he was an inspector-general. His remark-
able work in Indian campaigns on the fron-
tier culminated in that wonderful pursuit of
Geronimo, which he pushed to a successful
conclusion in the face of seemingly insuper-
able obstacles. During this period of his
service he was repeatedly commended for
"vigilance and zeal; rapidity and persist-
ence of pursuit," and ** for great skill, per-
severance, and gallantry."

Shortly after the declaration of war with
Spain, he was made a brigadier-general of
volunteers, and on th3 8th of July, 1898,

was raised to the rank of major-general of
volunteers. It will not soon be forgotten
who asked that the order to fall back at El
Caney be put in writing, and improved the
time thus gained to hurl his battalions against
the heights and plant his country's flag upon
their bloody crest.

Unfortunately the civil work which (Gen-
eral Lawton promptly inaugurated as Gov-
ernor of the Province of Santiago is less well
known than are his services in the field, and
his reputation in the Philippines before his
arrival there was that of ** a fighter" pure
and simple. Certainly no one can deny that
he was a fighter ; a splendidly prepared, de-
termined, persistent, dauntless, and invari-
ably successful fighter — quick to detect his
enemy's weakest point, and to reach it with
a blow so well directed and so crushing as
to insure prompt and decisive victory. But
those who think that he was only a fighter are
in grievous error. He was an organizer and
administrator of the first order.

My acquaintance with him began at Manila,
on the morning of March 13, 1899, when I
clambered up the side of the transport
** Grant," which had brought him and his
family into the Bay three days before. Five
minutes later I was doing my best to answer
keen and exhaustive questions about the isl-
ands, their people, the causes of the existing
insurrection, and the means best calculated
to terminate it. I saw at once that (General
Lawton was an extremely well-informed man,
who had availed himself to the foU of exist-
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.;^

li^^i'

HENRY W. LAWTON IN 18'iO. AGE 17.
From a daguerreotype now in the posBcewion of Mrs. Lawton.

FIRST LIEUTENANT IN THE THIRTIETH INDIANA VOLUN-
TEERS. AGE 20.

HRST UEUTENANT IN THE TWENTY-FOURTH U. S. IN-
FANTRY. AGE 27.

From n photoeraph taken nt PicMlras Ni-gras, Mexico, Jnnn-
arv 27, 1870, now in the possrasion of Major CeorRe E.
Alhec.

CAPTAIN IN THE FOURTH U. S. CAVALRY. AGE 37.

HENRY W. LAWTON.

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GENERAL LAWTON'S WORK IN THE PHILIPPINES.

UEUT.-COLONEL AND INSPECTOR-GENERAL. AGE 45.
From a photograph loaned by Major O. E. Albee.

ing sources of information concerning his
new field of operations, and who would take
up his difficult task, not only with a clear
comprehension of the fact that something
more than bullets and bayonets was neces-
sary in order to bring honorable and lasting
peace, but with a determination to avail him-
self of every legitimate means to promote
that end.

Instead of the impetuous military com-
mander, firm in his conviction of the suffi-
ciency of brute force and eager to crush all
opposition by the exercise of it, which, I
confess, popular rumor had prepared me to
expect, I found a modest, quiet, moderate
gentleman, who, in spite of his well-deserved
reputation for striking quick and hard when
he found it necessary to strike, nevertheless
at once made it evident that he preferred to
employ gentler methods where they would
suffice. This attitude he steadfastly main-
tained to the day of his death. How much
the country owes to him for his splendid ser-
vices in the field during his Philippine cam-
paigns can never be generally known until
the detailed history of those campaigns has
been written and read. In my judgment, it
owes him a still heavier debt of gratitude
for the admirable tact, the even-handed and
prompt justice, and the open-hearted frank-

MAJOR-GENERAL OP UNITED STATES VOLUNrEERS.
AGE 55.

ness and cordiality which characterized him
in all his dealings with the natives. No
other officer learned to know them so well,
and the confidence which he inspired in the
friendly and peaceable Filipinos was, and
will remain, no less an honor to him and a
potent factor in the restoration of peace
than was the fear which he soon aroused in
all who attempted to oppose him in battle.

In the course of our first interview Gen-
eral Lawton told me frankly that, in spite of
the opportunity which active service brought
him, he detested war. He added that he
doubted the justice of the struggle in which
we were then engaged ; in fact, I remember
distinctly that he characterized it as ** un-
holy." I did not at that time attempt to
discuss the point with him, feeling sure that
the first-hand acquaintance with facts which
he was certain to gain would suffice to set
him right. This belief was fully justified.
He sought, and obtained, the truth from
every available source. How completely he
changed his mind as the result is a matter
of common knowledge. I can only echo his
wish, made solemn by the fact that he had
given up his life ere the letter in which it
was expressed had reached its destination,
that those of his countrymen whose mis-
guided efforts have so long fed the flame of

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GENERAL LAWTON'S WORK IN THE PHILIPPINES.

revolt in the Philippines might learn to un-
derstand the situation as well as he under-
stood it.*

General Lawton's civilian friends saw lit-
tle of him for many weeks after he landed.
On March 18th, he assumed command of the
first division of the Eighth Army Corps. He
was at first fully occupied in familiarizing
himself with his new command and with local
conditions in general, and very soon entered
upon active operations in the field.

On April 10th, he attacked and captured
Santa Cruz, an important insurgent strong-
hold at the eastern end of the Laguna de
Bay. This movement was admirably planned,
and was carried out under his personal direc-
tion. Lawton was not a man who believed
in fighting battles in an unknown country at
the far end of a telegraph wire. The attack
was completely successful. During its prog-
ress he displayed that conspicuous personal
gallantry for which he is famous, and at
its close he risked his own life in emphasiz-
ing the fact that he would not allow the
firing of a needless shot, a principle which
guided him in every engagement he went
into. A heavy loss was inflicted on the in-
surgents at Santa Cruz, and all of their steam
transportation on the lake was captured.
Hardly had the city been taken when it was
put under guard. There was no burning nor
looting. Friendly natives who had remained
in their homes were granted the fullest pro-
tection, and the conduct of our troops was
such that those who had fled in fear soon be-
gan to return. They were quick to note and
appreciate the difference between the treat-
ment accorded them by the Americans and
that which they had received at the hands
of their own armed forces.

The abandonment of this important place,
which was ordered a few days later from
headquarters, and the resultant leaving of
natives who had shown their friendliness to-
ward us to the mercy of our enemies, was

» The letter from General Lawton to the Hon. John Barrett,
former United States Minister toSiaoi, referred to above, con-
tains the follow Inc :

"I wonld toGfMl that the whole truth of this whole Philip-

Elne pjtuution could be known by everyone In America a« I
now it. If the real history, inspiration, and conditions of this
insurrection, and the influenccH l(x:al and external, as well as
the actual possibilities of these islands and ixjoples and their
relations to this great East, could l)e understooa at home, we
wonld hear of no more talk of unjust 'shooting of cover-
ment' into the Filipinos or hauling down the flag in the
Philippines. If the so.calle<l anti-IniiMjrialists could honestly
ascertain tlie truth on the ground, antl not in distant Amer-
ica, they, whom I believe to be honest men misinformed,
would be convinced of the error of their statements and con-
clusions, and of the unfortunnte effects of their publications
here. If I am shot by a Filipino bullet, it may as well come
from one of my own men, because I know from observation,
confirmed bv captured prisoners, that the continiuince of
fighting is cfciefly due to r«*ports thnt arc sent out from Amer-
ica."-Ei>. MtCi.iiuK's Maha/.ink.

a sore trial to General Lawton. Without
presuming to express an opinion as to the
military necessity of this step, I cannot for-
bear to add that to my certain personal
knowledge the effect of it was most unfor-
tunate throughout the entire lake region.

No sooner had General Lawton returned
to Manila than he was ordered to begin the
formation of a force of approximately 4,000
men, with which he was to operate on the
right flank of the insurgent troops opposing
General MacArthur at the north. It should
be borne in mind that in no one of his im-
portant movements did he have anything like
an organized brigade placed at his disposal.
He had to pick up a company here, a bat-
talion or possibly a regiment there, in order
to make up a command, which was sure to
be broken up and scattered again as soon as
the work assigned to it had been completed,
a fresh force, differently composed, being
brought together for each new undertaking.

With characteristic energy and prompt-
ness, Lawton concentrated and organized his
command, and on April 22d began his north-
ward march. The territory through which
he moved was known only from maps which
proved utterly unreliable, showing roads
where no roads existed. He was soon com-
pelled to haul his guns, ammunition, and sup-
plies over steep hills, and through dense and
pathless thickets, muddy swamps, and un-
bridged streams, without so much as a trail
to guide him. No obstacle could stop him.
He inspired his men with his own indomi-
table energy. When the intense heat killed
the draft animals, officers and soldiers bent
to the yoke in their places, and the expedi-
tion moved on. In one instance a terrible
day's work resulted in a gain of but three
miles.

The enemy was promptly encountered, and
persistently opposed his advance. Engage-
ments varying from mere skirmishes to se-
vere fighte were of constant occurrence.
Lawton continually outflanked the opposing
forces, thus inflicting heavy losses on them
with a minimum of casualties among his own
men. The insurgents were driven in quick
succession from one strong position to an-
other, and were eventually thrown into con-
fusion by the rapidity and persistency of his
pursuit. With so small a force, no line of
communications could be maintained. He
buried his dead at the nearest town or vil-
lage, and carried his wounded forward.

At first the insurgents annoyed his out-
posts. Always ready for each new contin-
gency, he organized scouts, taking five picked

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GENERAL LAWTON'S WORK IN THE PHILIPPINES,

men, including a non-commissioned officer,
from each company, and giving the command
of the body thus formed to a civilian named
Young, whom he personally selected for this
important and dangerous honor. From that
time on the enemy ceased to molest our out-
posts. They had work nearer home. Young
eventually died of wounds received in battle,
but the system thus inaugurated was con-
tinued with excellent results.

Novaliches, San Jos6, Norzagaray, Angat,
San Rafael, and Bustos fell in quick succes-

to within 250 yards of it, a heavy volley was
fired at them. Throwing themselves from
their horses to the ground, they worked their
way back toward our line, which of course
instantly reopened on the enemy. The town
was promptly captured.

In spite of the shameful and irritating mis-
use of the white flag, perfect order was main-
tained, and when it was found that the com-
mand was to remain there for a short time.
General Lawton, true to his belief that civil
affairs should always be in the hands of

GENERAL LAWTON IN FIELD UNIFORM. THE WHITE HELMET WAS WORN BY GENERAL LAWTON IN ALL OP
HIS CUBAN AND PHIUPPINB ENGAGEMENTS.

sion. At Baliuag the insurgents had made
preparations for a strong stand, but Lawton,
through his tact and skill in dealing with the
natives. Bad kept himself fully informed of
their operations. He never lacked for spies
or couriers who would serve him faithfully.
Strong lines of intrenchments protected
the town from attack in the direction of
Bustos on the one side, and the railroad
track on the other. By a quick movement
Lawton passed around and attacked the po-
sition unexpectedly from the rear. The fight,
which opened at a range of 2,000 yards, had
hardly begun when a flag of truce was shown.
Captain Case and an orderly were sent for-
ward to meet it. When they had approached

civilians when practicable, promptly held an
election and organized a municipal govern-
ment with native officials. A similar course
was followed at Angat, and, in fact, wher-
ever conditions made it at all practicable.
The effect of this action was far-reaching, and
news of it was received at Manila, from native
sources, with almost miraculous promptness.
The advance to the northward was soon re-
sumed by way of San Ildefonso, Maasin, and
San Miguel de Mayumo, and it ended in the
capture of San Isidro, the new insurgent
capital. The enemy had long since found
that, to use Lawton' s own expression, he
could ** go to bed with them at night and
get up with them in the morning,'* and they

GENERAL LAWTON'S WORK IN THE PHILIPPINES,

■

rapidly wearied of his constant companion-
ship. Not only did his resistless and rapid
advance utterly demoralize them, but his
splendid personal bravery, and his protection
of the lives and property of non-combatants,
no less than the considerate kindness which
he showed in all his dealings with them, won
for him a unique place in the hearts of the

common people — a place

which he never lost.

Meanwhile General Mac-
Arthur was pressing for-
ward along the line of the
railway, and as a result of
the combined movement,
which threatened the com-
plete destruction of the
insurgent army, commis-
sions were being sent to
Manila in rapid succession.
Unfortunately they were
not empowered to do any-
thing practical, but came
only to inquire as to our
intentions and to beg for
time.

After San Isidro fell,
Lawton was eager to press
ontoTarlac. On May 17th,
he wired headquarters
that his provisions could
be made to hold out until
the 30th. He was well
supplied with ammunition.
Nevertheless he was
ordered to fall back, and
there began a retrograde
movement, dispiriting to
our men and full of en-
couragement to the enemy.
Commissions ceased to ar-
rive at Manila, and the
scattered insurgent forces
reassembled and attacked
our columns as they with-
drew through Cabiao, Arayat, and Candaba.
A permanent garrison was left at Baliuag.
The proximity of the rainy season has been
assigned as a reason for the abandonment
of the forward movement. Lawton always
contended that he could operate in the rain
better than could the insurgents, and later
in the year he proved it.

Of this expedition it may be said, in gen-
eral, that it inflicted heavy losses on the en-
emy, demorah'zing them, and thereby aiding
General MacArthur's advance, and that it
destroyed or distributed among the com-
mon people immense quantities of insurgent

GENERAL LAWT0N*8 ONLY SON, MANLEY
LAWTON.

stores ; that its effect on the peaceable in-
habitants was admirable, convincing them
as it did of the falsity of the vile slanders
which had been diligently circulated in re-
gard to our troops; and, finally, that its
moral influence on the insurgent army, up to
the time of the withdrawal from San Isidro,
can hardly be overstated. For that with-
drawal General Lawton
certainly cannot be held
responsible. His position,
with the rainy season at
hand, may not have been
strong, but he desired to
strengthen it by advancing^
not by retiring.

No sooner had he re-
turned to Manila than he
was directed to gather a
force and drive off the
insurgents under Pio del
Pilar, who were commit-
ting indescribable crimes
against the inhabitants of
Morong and the neighbor-
ing towns. On June 3d
he attacked this force
from three directions.
Not only did the move-
ment succeed in its object,
but had not General HalPs
column been unexpectedly
delayed, it would have re-
sulted in the capture of
Pilar's entire command.

For many weeks there
had been a tacit truce
along the south line, and
negotiations had been in
progress which at one time
promised to end in the
peaceable submission of
the hostile forces in Cavite
province . Unfortunately
this fact became known to
the insurgent leaders. General Trias, who
was in command south of the PasigHiver and
Laguna de Bay, was accordingly removed
from his post, and Baldomero Aguinaldo, a
cousin of the dictator, was appointed in his
stead. As a result of this change, the in-
surgents in Cavite province again became
aggressive. On June 7th, Lawton was in-
structed to concentrate a force of approxi-
mately 4,000 men, and begin active opera-
tions against them.

An attack was made on the morning of
the 10th. It had been planned that parallel
columns under Generals Wheaton and Oven-

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GENERAL LAWTON'S WORK IN THE PHILIPPINES.

shine should pierce the insurgent line near
San, Pedro Macati. Wheaton was then to
swing toward the lake, and Ovenshine to-
ward the bay, taking the strong insurgent
works at Paranaque and Las Pinas in reverse.
The day proved to be the hottest of the year.
No drinking water was found along the line
of march, and a considerable number of the
troops were fresh from the United States,
and had not become acclimated. The num-

revolt of '96, and they therefore considered
it sacred ground. Before leaving Las Pinas
they went before the native priest of that
town and took a solemn oath to hold the
Zapote River or die in their trenches. On
the afternoon of June 12th, General Lawton
reconnoitered their position from the fight-
ing-top of the gunboat " Helena," and later,
after landing, went forward with a small
detachment, endeavoring to exactly locate

GENERAL LAWTON'S DAUGHTERS, FRANCES, CATHERINE, AND LOUISE, AGED, RESPEC-
TIVELY, ELEVEN, NINE, AND SEVEN YEARS.

ber of heat prostrations resulting was so
great that it became necessary to abandon
the original plan of operations and concen-
trate the two columns. This was done under
the personal direction of General Lawton,
and the movement toward Las Piiias was then
continued in the face of determined opposi-
tion. The command camped for the night
close to the town. Under cover of darkness
the enemy withdrew, retreating to a strong
position along the southern bank of the Za-
pote River.

At this very place a small insurgent force
had inflicted a severe defeat on a vastly
superior body of Spanish troops during the

their left. During this reconnoissance sev-
eral Mauser volleys, as well as a number of
shrapnel shells, were fired at his little party
at short range from across the river.

On the following day occurred the famous
battle of the Zapote River. Before it opened
General Lawton took two companies, and
moving along the beach, forded the stream
at its mouth, passing around the left of the
enemy's line, and, under the direction of a
native guide, reaching a position well in his
rear. One company was left behind as a
support, in order to prevent the advance
from being cut off, and the other pushed on
until within less than 200 yards of the only

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GENERAL LAWTON'S WORK IN THE PHILIPPINES,

road along which the insurgents could re-
treat, when a determined Remington fire was
encountered, to which the pop of the Mauser
was soon added, showing that the small
American force had compelled a vastly supe-
rior body of the enemy to hurry up reenf orce-
ments. A single company was opposed by
at least a thousand men, and it is difficult to
see why it was not annihilated. The enemy
closed in until the range was but little more
than a hundred yards. As it seemed desira-
ble to hold the position, and thus permanently
weaken the insurgent force along the river,
the reserve company was brought up, and a
slightly sheltered spot was found for our
troops, which they determinedly held. Dur-
ing all this time General Lawton was exposed
to a fearful fire at short range . Conspicuous
as he was, not only on account of his com-
manding stature, but because of the light
uniform and white helmet which he invari-
ably wore in battle, it is little less than a
miracle that he escaped alive. The effect of
his splendid example on the men can hardly
be overestimated. At one time Captain Sage,
in command of the advanced company, was
left with nine men to face the enemy, the
remainder of his force having fallen back
through misunderstanding an order. Under
a very hot fire, delivered at a range of but
forty yards, Sage held his position, picking
up the rifle of a wounded man, and himself
dropping five insurgents with it.

Having stationed these companies as above
indicated, General Lawton then returned to
the river to direct the general attack, which
was promptly delivered and completely suc-
cessful. An attempt to rush the bridge de-
veloped the fact that the wooden planking
with which a broken stone arch had been re-
paired was burned out, so that it was im-
possible to cross. Our end of this bridge
was but thirty- four yards from the insurgent
trenches ; nevertheless, the guns of a battery
took position on it and opened, while our
troops occupied the bank, and coolly picked
off every man on the opposite side who showed
his head. So deadly was the fire that it was
impossible for the insurgents to serve their
artillery. I afterward found four bullet
marks on the muzzle of one of their guns.

Meanwhile our men had crossed the river
between the bridge and the bay, and out-
flanked the trenches, which were then rushed,
the enemy retreating in great disorder, closely
pressed by our troops. Just beyond Bacoor
they made a final stand, but were again
routed within twenty minutes, and fled in
confusion toward Imus.

In his official report of the engagement
General Lawton said, *' The bearing of ofll-
cers and men throughout this battle was
magnificent. The conduct of officers whose
names are mentioned . . . should be
entitled and characterized distinguished gal-
lantry in the presence of the enemy at the
battle of the Zapote River. . . . This
is probably the first time in history that a
battery has been advanced and fought vrith-
out cover, within thirty yards of strongly
manned trenches." He forgets to mention *
the fact that this gallant advance was made
under his own eye, and that he stood calm
and impassive beside the guns while they
were being served. How much of the splen-
did intrepidity displayed by his officers and
men on this and other occasions was due to
the magnificent example of their dauntless
leader ?

He was the most modest of men, and would
never talk of himself or his exploits, but he
kept a keen eye on those who served with
him, and gave them the fullest credit for all
that they did. Even when exposed to hot
fire, he would dictate to his aide memoranda
of the brave acts of others, in order that he
might forget nothing. Although he spared
neither his men nor himself when duty called,
he was nevertheless most considerate of those
who served under him, and he was loved and
implicitly trusted by his troops. No matter
how difficult or dangerous the task, his men
never shrank from it, for they felt that
under his leadership success was certain.

The moral effect of the victory at the Za-
pote was tremendous. The insurgents knew
that, having failed to hold this river, there
was no position in Cavite which they could
hope to maintain.

On the morning after the fight, the Gen-
eral and his staff rode into Bacoor. The in-
surgent troops had conducted themselves
shamefully before abandoning the town. One
family of women and girls had suffered espe-
cially. After shooting into their house, the
native troops had broken in and plundered
it, even going so far as to search the per-
sons of the unfortunate occupants for con-
cealed jewelry. The latter had passed the
remainder of the night on their knees, in
constant fear of their lives, and they wel-
comed the General as a deliverer. They
were so demonstrative in their joy that, in
speaking of the occurrence afterward, he
dryly remarked that only his height had
saved him from having them literally fall on
his neck.

On the following day, the presidente of

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GENERAL LAWTON'S WORK IN THE PHILIPPINES.

GenemI Lawton. CnptHin KInir. Garvin Denby, Felipe Cklderon.

Manley Lawton. Mrs. Lawton.

Dean C. Worcetiter.

Benito LiegardH.

GENERAL LAWTON AND PARTY AT CALAMBA. A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN THE MORNING AFTER THE CITY

WAS CAPTURED.

Imus came in to announce the voluntary sur-
render of his town, and to invite the Ameri-
cans to garrison it, which was done.

General Lawton's attention was immedi-
ately turned to bettering the condition of
the inhabitants who remained in the captured
cities. They had been plundered of their be-
longings by their own troops, and were in a
pitiable condition from lack of food. At
Lawton' s request, they were supplied with
meat and rice from Manila until again able
to provide for themselves. As a result of
this kind and humane course, those who had
fled soon began to return to their homes.

At this time I made a tour of inspection
through Paraiiaque, Las Pifias, Bacoor, and
Imus, with a view to ascertaining the feeling
of the natives toward us and their needs in
general. I found everjrwhere the heartiest
appreciation of the kindly treatment which
they had received, and a willingness to co-
operate with us against what they were learn-
ing to consider a common enemy ; but with-
out organization they were helpless to act,
and there was a universal and strong desire

for the establishment of some form of mu-
nicipal government.

Having first consulted General Lawton,
and found him most heartily in sympathy
with my views as to the desirability of at-
tempting such organization, I then laid the
facts before General Otis, who promptly in-
structed Lawton to attend to the matter.
At the latter's request, I had a simple form
of municipal government prepared in outline
by a good Filipino lawyer. This was sub-
mitted to Serior Arrellano, president of the
Manila Supreme Court, and after being
slightly amended by him, was translated and
given to Lawton. He made an order of it,
without changing a word, and invited me to
accompany him to the various towns within
his jurisdiction and aid in putting that order
into effect. On the morning of July 1st, we
started on our mission in an army ambulance,
protected by a cavalry escort, and accom-
panied by Senor Felipe Calderon, a Filipino
who understood both Spanish and Tagalog,
and who had a wide acquaintanceship among
the people of Cavite province.

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GENERAL LAWTON'S WORK IN THE PHILIPPINES.

Paranaque was the first town visited. The
principalia, or " headmen/' had assembled,
and when we entered the house where they
were awaiting ns, I saw at once that they
were literally quaking with fear. I asked
them the reason, and was informed that

Although not himself a Catholic, he ac-
cepted the invitation of the native priest at
Imus to attend mass on Sunday morning, and
I accompanied him. The week before, when
on my preliminary tour of investigation, the
fine native band at Imus had turned out in

when a Spanish general called the headmen my honor, and thinking that it would pro-
of a town together, under such conditions, mote good feeling between the people and

some of them
usually got shot.
I explained the sit-
uation to General
Lawton, and he
was on his feet
in an instant. He
spoke straight
from the heart,
simply, earnestly,
and to the point,
showing an under-
standing of native
character and
methods pf
thought which
many men would
not have gained
in years. I trans-
lated his words
literally into
Spanish, and Cal-
deron repeated
them in Tagalog.
Their effect was
wonderful. We
held a successful
election on the
spot. Before leav-
ing, Lawton shook
hands cordially
with each of the
newly chosen
officials, and gave
him a kindly word
of congratulation and advice. When we
took our departure there was a perfectly
spontaneous outburst of enthusiasm, and
the natives cheered him to the echo.

Bacoor, Imus, and Las Pinas were then or-
ganized in the order named, two days being
consumed in the work. Wherever we went,

our soldiers if they
would learn to play
the Star Spangled
Banner, I had
taught their leader
the air. We were
surprised and
touched when that
beautiful hymn
was feelingly
rendered as a part
of the sacred
music during the
service. After-
ward the priest
told us that on
account of the
course which the
Americans had
followed in his
town, our national
air would continue
to form a part of
the sacred music
in that church so
long as he re-
mained in charge
of it.

The system of
civil government
thus established
proved so success-
ful that we soon
extended it to
Pandacan, Santa
Ana, San Felipe Nery, and Malibay, the Gen-
eral personally conducting the work in every
case. To be sure, our native officials were,
as Sefior Calderon remarked, *' like children
with new shoes on." ' They were either incap-
able of applying simple general principles or
unwilling to assume the responsibility of do-

THB PRESmENTB OP IMUS AND NATIVE PRIESTS.

This Pregldente came In and surrendered his town to General
Lawton, thus preventing bloodshed. The jirifnt on the riKht
rendered important service In the restoration and maiuUnance of
public order.

the General made the people his friends, ing so, and constantly flocked to Manila for in-

He returned the hu;nble salute of every poor
native whom we passed by the wayside. He
accepted the friendly hospitality of the peo-
ple in the towns that we visited, breaking
bread with them, and sleeping in their homes.
There was full and instant justice for all who
came to him with reasonable ground for com-
plaint.

structions, occupying much of the time of
Calderon, the General, and myself. Lawton
always gave them a kindly welcome. His
patience in dealing with them seemed end-
less, and I know that they soon learned,
not only to respect and admire him, but to
love him. He inspired an almost incredible
amount of loyalty among them. We had ex-

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GENERAL LAWTON'S WORK IN THE PHILIPPINES.

pected dishonesty and treachery, but up to
the time of my departure only one man had
proved unworthy of the trust imposed in
him.

On the whole, the troops which garrisoned
our new municipalities behaved extremely
well. Lawton's orders as to the mainte-
nance of public order were severe, and he en-
forced them to the letter whenever occasion
arose. It was of course inevitable that there
should be some clashes between the soldiers
and the natives, and my relations with the

much difficulty he succeeded in obtaining au-
thorization to do this. He then told me that
he wanted half a dozen of the worst men in
Cavite province, by preference leaders of
the' bands of tuHsamSj or professional ban-
dits, which have infested that district from
time immemorial. With the aid of Calderon,
I got them. The General said that he would
niake good citizens of them, and he did.
Other men were secured for him by Captain
Lara of the native police force, and about
this little nucleus yet others soon gathered.

latter were such that abuses were almost The force as finally organized numbered some

certain to be brought to my attention. I
went straight to the General with them,
and I speak from personal knowledge when
I say that he was tireless in his efforts to
bring evil-doers to justice.

One instance I recall with especial clear-
ness. A poor native was
assaulted near Mariquina by a
couple of drunken soldiers,
who wounded him in the arm
and robbed him of a large sum
of money. Two women wit-
nessed the occurrence, but
were at first afraid to testify
against white men. At Law-
ton's request I sent messages
to them again and again, in
order to persuade them to
come in and bear witness.
We were at last successful
in getting their evidence,
which proved sufficient to
convict. The plaintiff went
his way rejoicing, after receiv-
ing a sum equivalent to the one
he had lost, the necessary
amount having been deducted
from the pay of his assailants.
The latter were sentenced to
long terms in Bilibid, while
the witnesses, to their utter
amazement, received proper
compensation for their ser-
vices. A few days later I
heard all about this case from
natives away to the northward
in the province of Bulacan,
and I know both that the
fame of it spread far and
wide, and that the people
marveled. They had never heard of such a
thing, and could not understand it.

Lawton was a thorough believer in the na-
tives, and was very anxious to utilize them
as soldiers, by forming a mixed body of scouts
composed of Americans and Tagalogs. After

forty white men and fifty-two natives. It
was commanded by Captain Castner. I am
indebted to Captain King, of General Law-
ton's staff, for information as to the result
of this interesting experiment. He tells me
that it was a complete success. The native

MAP OF THE SECTION OF LUZON IN WHICH GENERAL LAWTON CARRIED
ON HIS OPERATIONS.

scouts were brave, efficient, and loyal. Not
a gun was lost, nor did a man desert.

When the final campaign opened in the
north, they accompanied I^wton's advance,
sometimes even going a full day's march
ahead of it. On one occasion sixteen na-

..,...._, )gie

GENERAL LAWTON'S WORK IK THE PHILIPPINES.

tive3 and two white men were given insur-
gent uniforms, and armed with captured
Remington and Mauser rifles. Thus equipped
they were sent into a village garrisoned by
three riflemen and fifty bolo men, which force
they captured entire, after first gathering
valuable information. The white men of this
command soon learned to regard their dark-
skinned comrades with the respect which one
brave man feels toward another.

The General was also keenly interested in
the enlistment of a strong force from among
the Macabebes, who were eager for an op-
portunity to fight their enemies, the Tagalog
insurgents. I remember well his satisfac-
tion when he could at last inform me that
the organization of three companies had been
authorized. Captain King tells me that this
number was eventually increased to five.
The Macabebes were armed with cavalry car-
bines and put into the field at once. They
did magnificent work, fighting bravely and
moving very rapidly. They sometimes even
kept up with the cavalry on quick marches.
It should. be remembered that they served
under the most trying conditions. Rushed
into service immediately, as they were, there
was little opportunity for the establishment
of discipline. The companies had but one
white officer each. They were in the coun-
try of their mortal enemies, and rations were
short, yet they did not loot. They proved
very loyal. On two occasions they wanted
to kill men whose taking off could hardly
have been justified, but their officers re-
strained them without difficulty.

They yielded to the fatigues of that ter-
rible campaign more quickly than did the
white troops, however, and as they sickened
they were left behind at different towns,
thirty or forty in a place. Under these try-
ing conditions a few of them gave evidence
of their lack of discipline and attempted to
commit abuses, but they were promptly and
vigorously punished. General Law ton con-
sidered the experiment a pronounced suc-
cess, and he was in a position to know.

It is not my purpose to attempt to describe
even in outline Lawton's last campaign, which,
as the Secretary of War has well said, ** was
the chief factor in the destruction of the in-
surgent power, and was the crowning achieve-
ment of his arduous life." He conclusively
demonstrated the fact that American troops,
under such a leader, can operate successfully
against native forces in the Philippines in
spite of the most trying climatic conditions.
Floods of rain and seas of mud were power-
less to check his impetuous advance. He

kept the enemy so busy running that they
had little time to fight. When he could no
longer move his transportation, he abandoned
it, living off the country, but never forget-
ting to pay for what he took. Toward the
end of the campaign his hungry and war-
worn soldiers lay down night after night on
the water-soaked ground, without protection
of any sort, only to rise in the morning and
push on again. His presence and example
inspired them to deeds of bravery and endur-
ance which will make one of the brightest
pages in the history of the American army.
His reputation had preceded him, and the
common people welcomed him, but the insur-
gents complained that his troops seemed to
rise out of the very ground.

In spite of the exhaustion which he must
have felt after such arduous duty, he re-
mained in Manila but a day on his return
from the north, and then took the field
again, riding all night through the rain in
order to personally direct the ill-fated oper-
ations against San Mateo, arriving before
that town in the early morning of December
18th.

Always thoughtful of his officers and men,
and forgetful of himself, it is characteristic
of him that he should have given up his life
while trjring to aid another. The fight had
hardly opened when Lieutenant Breckinridge
of his staff was severely wounded. The Gen-
eral, aided by Captain King, Lieutenant Ful-
ler, and Major Rogers, carried him to a ditch
grown full of bushes, which seemed to prom-
ise shelter, but it was found that the insur-
gent fire came directly down it. The Gen-
eral set out to search for a safer place. He
had found one, and was returning when met
by Captain King. At that instant he raised
his hand and brushed his coat over the left
breast, uttering a low exclamation. King
said, *' What is it. General ? '* He replied,
'*I am hit.'' King asked, '* W'here, Gen-
eral?'' ** Through the lung," came the
answer. Those were his last words. He
wavered, made a desperate effort to recover
himself, and sank into the arms of King and
Fuller. A surgeon was at hand, but in less
than a moment from the time he was struck
life had flown. So he died, as I know he
would have preferred to die, quickly, pain-
lessly, at the post of duty, his face toward
the enemies of his country and his flag.

There are those who say that he was reck-
less. This is far from the truth. He was
too brave a man to expose himself needlessly ;
but if he felt that a thing ought to be done,
he would do it, no matter how thick the bul-

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GENERAL LAWTON'S WORK IN THE PHILIPPINES.

lets flew. In order that he might the better
perform his whole duty, he took the best
possible care of his physical well-being. I
know that during his entire stay in the Phil-
ippines he never allowed a drop of alcoholic
stimulant to pass his lips under any circum-
stances whatsoever. He did not use tobacco
in any form, nor would he touch coffee or
tea.

It is true that he often exposed himself.
He told me that the Zapote River fight was
the twenty-seventh occasion on which he had
been under hot fire in the Philippines, and
he added that he knew his turn would come
sooner or later, if the war continued, on the
mere law of chances. When he sat ou his
great horse where the bullets were thickest,
it was not because he was reckless, but be-
cause his was that higher courage which can
look death in the face without blenching.
He felt that, with the force at his disposal
and the work which he was called upon to
do, his personal presence on the firing line
was often a necessity. He was unwilling to
take the chance of a little delay, cr of a mis-
take on the part of a subordinate, which
might lead to a reverse. The distinctive
costume which he always wore in the field
was intended to make his presence known to
his own men. He believed that when they
knew he was with them, sharing their hard-
ships and their dangers, they would never
fail him, and he was right.

On the night that I bade him good-by, he
told me that his one anxious thought was
for the devoted wife who had followed him
to the Far East to make a home for him, and

for the children that gladdened it. His
friends take untold comfort in the fact that
the only fear which ever touched the heart
of Henry W. Lawton has been forever ban-
ished by the generosity of his countrymen.

Who can fittingly sum up, in a few words,
the character of such a man ? Simple in all
his ways; true as steel; a bom leader of
men; ever successful, yet modest as a girl;
always seeking to give credit to others and
forgetful of self; loyal to his superiors ; pa-
tient under hostile criticism and unjust sus-
picion ; loved not alone by his comrades and
friends, but by the natives with whom he
came in contact— one cannot put it all in
words. He was La\Hon, and ** only a regu-
lar."

It is needless to say that his death brought
deepest sorrow to his countrymen. But they
were not the only ones to mourn his loss.
Native women came to mingle their tears
with those of the wife and mother who was
left desolate. The spokesman who tried to
say a few words in behalf of the oflScials of
the towns which he had organized broke
down completely and cried like a child.

As I stood the other day beside his bier in
the National Cemetery, and saw lying on it
the wreaths that dusky hands had placed
there in far-off Manila, I felt that I had lived
to see the first-fruits of the great work which
America has undertaken in the Far East — a
work which General Lawton prosecuted with
all his boundless energy, ennobled by his ex-
ample, and consecrated with his life's blood.
Surely it cannot be said that he has died in
vain.

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HEAD OP "OLD JIM.'

DRAWN FROM UPE BY E. L. BUJMENSCREIN.

THE OLD JIM HORSE.

By J. Lincoln Steffkns.

I HE Superintendent of Horses
in the New York Fire Depart-
ment sent a substitute to
Thirty-three engine one day
a year or two ago, and took
away a big roan horse which
had served there for eighteen
years and nine months.
** Horse registered No. 60,
unfit," is the way this act
was reported officially. But
the men, passing the news around the house,
and thence from company to company all over
town, said:

* * They've taken the old Jim horse. They're
going to sell Thirty-three's old Jim."

Now the firemen all knew that the old Jim
horse was unfit for duty. Captain Nash,
the foreman of Thirty-three, had been watch-
ing secretly for two or three years the
growth of a film over the animal's big, intel-
ligent eyes. No expert superintendent of
fire horses was needed to see that Jim was
going blind. But what of that ? There

wasn't a horse in the service that knew the
business so well as Jim. There wasn't a
fireman who loved a big fire more than the
roan that ran in the middle of Thirty-three's
team of three.

** He learned what he had to do in five
minutes after he was bought and delivered
here," said Captain Nash. ** He caught on
the first time they showed him. We never
locked him in a stall. It wasn't necessary;
for he never left it without permission, ex-
cept to get a drink or to respond to an alarm
of fire. At the first tap of the gong, he
sprang forward to his place. Sometimes he
came so fast that he had to slide to stop
himself under the harness ; and when we let
him out in the street to wander around, he'd
run at the call of the gong, stop on the side-
walk, turn about, and back into his place at
the pole. Why, we used to put boxes and
chairs in his way from the stall, but he
jumped over them and would still be first in
the collar. They oughtn't to have con-
demned Jim. He never cost the city a cent

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THE OLD JIM HORSE,

for doctor's bills. Once he fell down on the
way to a fire and was dragged a block over
the Broadway cobbles ; but he got up without
our stopping, and though he was pretty sore,
we never reported him, and he got over it.
Sometimes a hose would burst, but Jim didn't
care if only he could turn his head out of
the way. Many a shower of falling glass he
has stood without flinching, as the scars on
his back show, but he was never laid off a
day. Half a dozen horses that were mated
to him have lived their day and died, trying
to pull up even with old Jim. It isn't so
long ago they sent us up a spare horse to
take the place of one of Jim's mates that
was off being shod. There was one run, and
Jim chewed the young horse's neck to make
him keep up his end, afraid we'd lose first
water. He was a great fire horse, was Jim.
The only trouble he gave was at meal times,
which he knew like a clock ; and if his feed
wasn't set down before him on the minute,
he made a fuss, pawing at the side of his
stall and starting all the other horses to
kicking."

Possibly Captain Nash was prejudiced.
He and Jim had served together in the same
house for eleven years. But if there was
anything so very wrong in concealing Jim's
aging weaknesses, the captain was not the
only one to blame. Hugh Bonner, the Chief
of the Department, had his down-town quar-
ters in Thirty-three's house, and he knew all
about Jim, and all about Captain Nash, too,
for that matter. Yet he kept mum. Then
there was the Superintendent of Horses : why
didn't he do something before ? It is true
he had condemned Jim five years ago. This,
however, is the way he did it. After in-
specting the horse, he walked up to the cap-
tain and said :

'* Nash, the old Jim horse is getting
unfit. I guess I'll have to send you a sub-
stitute."

Captain Nash did not say anything. The
substitute came, and he accepted the new
horse, but he didn't send Jim away. He
handed over another horse. Now the sta-
bleman did not know the difference, per-
haps, but the Superintendent did. He must
have found that he had been fooled ; and the
captain, liable to punishment for disobey-
ing orders, worried for a week. But nothing
came of it. Possibly the Superintendent
reported the case to the Chief. If he did,
it is curious the Chief never mentioned the
matter to Captain Nash. At any rate, the
Chief must have known that the Jim horse
had been condemned, and he certainly saw

the Jim horse afterwards first at many a
fire.

A year or two later, the Superintendent
condemned Jim again, and he did it rather
sharply this time. He did not say, '' Nash,
the old Jim horse," and so on. He com-
manded Captain Nash to delivei;** registered
horse No. 60; " but after he was out of the
door, he paused, turned half around, and said :

** He isn't fit to run to fires, Nash. You
better trade him off to me for a good,
strong, young horse. Anyhow, I'm going
to do my duty, and if you want "

The rest was nothing but a grumble
which no one could be expected to under-
stand. The new horse arrived. The cap-
tain hesitated, till at last he thumped on his
desk, and shouted down to the man on watch
to transfer to the training stables the worst
horse in the house. The fireman who re-
ceived the order grinned, and delivered the
next to the oldest horse, an animal that
** never was no good, nohow." And when
the trampling of the departing hoofs had
died away, the men up-stairs, who heard
the order stopped the game of cards while
one of them went below. He walked around
the engine to Jim's stall, told him to get
back, though the horse was not more than
half a foot over the line, then returned to
the game. He did not report anything ver-
bally, but the others looked in his face, and ,
resumed the play in great good humor. Just
as they were forgetting the incident, the cap-
tain came out of his room and passed down-
stairs. He had to get something out of the
feed-room, which is back of the horses. Old
Jim tried to attract the captain's attention,
but the captain wouldn't notice him.

The third time the Superintendent acted,
he did not give the captain a chance for any
of his tricky horse- trading. He had * * regis-
tered horse No. 60 " removed without talk-
ing about it, and Captain Nash was at a loss.

** I knew what it meant," said the captain
afterwards. ** We had a horse here once,
the Buck horse. He was a good fire horse,
too ; nothing like Jim, but he served faith-
ful for years, and then went lame in his off
hind leg. We did what we could for him
till the inspector got onto it and took him
away and sold him at auction. About a year
after that, when we were all standing out in
front of the house one day, an old, broken-
down, lame horse came along the street, pull-
ing one of those carts that go aroimd col-
lecting clam-shells. He balked right oppo-
site the door. We thought at first he was
tired, and I guess he was. Maybe some of

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THE OLD JIM HORSE.

AT THE FIRST TAP OP THE GONG, HE SPRANG FORWARD TO HIS PLACE.

the younger firemen laughed when the crazy
old driver licked his horse. But all of a
sudden we took notice of the horse's sore
leg, and somebody said :

*' * It's the old Buck horse, boys.'

** And it was. He had stopped because
he wanted to come in home, the old Buck
horse did. And his leg was worse."

So Captain Nash remembered the Buck
horse when they took away the Jim horse.
He waited till the Chief came to the house.

Then he told him. '* Chief," he said,
^* they've come and got the old Jim horse at
last."

The Chief did not answer.

'* I'd just as lief keep him, Chief," the
captain continued. ** He's the best horse I
had. A little film over his eyes, and pretty
old, but he's — he's the old Jim horse,
Chief."

Another pause.
• ** They'll sell him into some old ash-cart
or to a Polish peddler. And Jim's served
long enough to have a pension."

Then the Chief answered :

** Why don't you write his record up to
the Board? I'll endorse it."

** I ain't much on the write," said Nash,
** but I'll try it, if you say so."

That was on a Saturday. Captain Nash

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THE PASHA'S PRISONER,

took Sunday for the job, and here is his
formal report to the Board of Fire Commis-
sioners :

" I respectfully forward a brief history of the roan
team of horses formerly used in the engine of this com-
pany. Of the original Jack horse I have not much
to write, he being killed while responding to an alarm
for fire at station 236 on May 30, 1881, by colliding
with the shaft of Engine 13 tender. The point of tbo
shaft entered his breast. ... As to the horse
Jim, who was received at these quarters on January
14, 1879, and performed duty therein until November
4, 1897, a period of eighteen years and nine months,
the first eleven years of which Jim and his mate had
to draw a heavy first-class engine, when the runs were
more frequent and much longer than those of the pres-
ent day, when the same identical engine is drawn by
three horses. The Jim horse, in the opinion of all the
officers and members ever connected with this com-
pany, and the many distinguished persons who visited
these quarters, was such that tiiey expressed the
belief that there never was a horse that showed more
intelligence than the Jim horse.**

Here followed a recital of Jim's distin-
guishing traits in much the same language
as that ah-eady quoted from Captain Nash.

Chief Bonner wrote something, too :

** I take great pleasure in transmitting for your con-
sideration the history of the Jim horse of Engine 33,
for a period of nearly twenty years. ... He was
about seven years old when purchased, which would
make him nearly twenty-seven years of age. I appeal
to the Board in behalf of this faithful animal, that he
be retained in the service of the department, and as-
signed to some company where the duties will be light,
and that the Superintendent of Horses be directed to
not include in his sale registered No. 60, which is the
number assigned to this faithful animal."

** This worked," said the captain. When
these communications were read at the
Board meeting, the commissioners were silent
a moment. Then the president said that he
thought Jim had earned his pension and
should be retired. No one objected ; so the
Superintendent of Horses was directed to
keep Jim for such light work as might turn
up, if there was any such. At any rate, he
was not to be sold. This was the first time
in the history of the department that a
horse was retired like a fireman ; but it paid.
For example; it put a stop to Captain Nash's
grumbling about the new middle horse that
runs now with Thirty-three engine.

THE PASHA'S -PRISONEK.

By Robert Barr,

Author of " within an Ace of the End of the World," " The Gift of Abner Griw," and other stories.

A STORY OV MODERN TURKEY.

|EW objects on this earth are
more beautiful than a con-
sular kawass. His wages
may be small, but that is
more than compensated for
by the gorgeousness of his
clothes. His outer garment
unites the merits of an Inver-
ness coat, a lady's cloak,
an Arab aba, and an ulster.
Sometimes it is short and
comes only to his waist; often it is long,
reaching down to his heels. It is wonder-
fully embroidered with threads of silver and
of gold, and also threads of silk colored
green, crimson, yellow, blue, and purple.
There are wings attached to this garment
at the shoulders, which give the kawass the
appearance of a huge bird of tropical climes
as he hurries down a Turkish street. And
as if this were not enough glory, there is
worked on his back the coat-of-arms of the

country he represents. The emblems of
some countries suit the back of a kawass
better than the devices of others. There is
Austria, for instance, .whose double-headed
black eagle stands out strongly in contrast
with the rainbow splendor of the coat, and
an eagle's head standing out on each shoul-
der blade makes the balance perfect.

When the consul drives abroad in his car-
riage, the kawass mounts upon the seat with
the coachman, and has his hands crossed over
the hilt of a broad semi-circular scimitar —
that new-moon-shaped sword which we see
the executioner in Eastern pictures wiping
on the tail of his coat after he has rolled
off a few heads on the pavement. As the
kawass usually has great, sweeping black
mustaches, the addition of the sword gives
him an appearance of great blood-th&sti-
ness, which is most impressive. As a mat-
ter of fact, however, he is a harmless indi-
vidual who runs errands for the consul and

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THE PASHA'S PRISONER.

conducts touristB to mosques and places of
that sort, accepting with thankfulness a
small gift in recognition of his services.

Mr. Turner's kawass knocked at the door
of the consular room, and, on being told to
enter, displayed to the consul a face labor-
ing under some powerful agitation.

" Well, what is it ? " asked Consul Turner.

'* Excellency, the man who disappeared
has come back."

** What man who disappeared, Selim ? "

'*The cold-water
man. Excellency."

** Oh, McSimmins.
He didn't disappear;
he went home, you
remember. He sent
his papers to me about
a month ago, with a
request for a permit
to leave the country,
which was quite un-
necessary. You
brought me the papers,
and I gave them back
to you."

** Yes, Excellency,"
said the kawass ner-
vously.

** So he has re-
turned, has he ? What
does he want ?"

** Yes, Excellency,
and he demands to see
you; but I thought it
better not to let him
in."

''Why, Selim?"

** I think he is in-
sane. Excellency."

** Oh, that is nothing
new ; I thought it from
the first."

** He is here. Excellency, in a Turkish
pasha's uniform, and he will not go away.
Then he acted very strangely, and it may
not be safe to let him in."

" Oh, nonsense. Let him come in. McSim-
mins wouldn't hurt anybody."

The kawass departed with evident re-
luctance, and shortly after, an extra-
ordinary figure presented itself to the
consul's view. He wore the costume of
a Turkish pasha, and had stuck on his
head a red fez with a long silken tassel.
He came in stepping with caution, as if
walking on thin ice. He held his open

an erratic manner that threatened to dis-
lodge the fez, and kept the silken tassel
swaying to and fro.

'*I— I— I— I'm afraid," he said, with a
stammer, ** that you don't recognize me,
Mr. Turner."

*'0h, yes, I do," replied the consul;
"you are Afr. McSimmins, who came over
here to convert the Turk by means of a daily
bath, quite ignoring my suggestion that the
Turk already performed his ablutions five
times a day."

**Ah, yes. Consul,
quite true, quite true ;
but only his hands and
feet; and I still hold
that, if you submerged
the Turk once a day,
he would prove a dif-
ferent man."

'*Well," said the
consul, '* I have often
thought that if the
whole country were
submerged for twenty
minutes, it would be,
on the whole, an im-
provement; still that
is an opinion that must
not be mentioned out-
side the consular resi-
dence. But, as I sug-
gested to you before,
if cleanliness were
your object, the
Turkish bath is not
altogether unknown
even in our own coun-
try, and is supposed
to be reasonably
efficient."

** It is warm and
enervating," said
McSimmins, speaking with stuttering hesita-
tion, which seemed to show that his theory
was not perfectly grounded. ** I advocate
cold water, you know."

** Yes, I remember you did," began the
consul; but he was interrupted by McSim-
mins suddenly precipitating himself on the
floor and clutching wildly at the carpet.
The consul sprang to his feet with an excla-
mation of dismay.

"It's all right. ' ' cried McSimmins ; * * don't
be alarmed. The room is spinning round
but it will steady down in a minute ; then
ril get up. Just wait till things come to a

He held hi* open hand trembtingly before Mm.'*

hand tremblingly before him, as if antici- stand-still again

pating a fall, and his head bobbed about in Presently the grovelmg man rose to his

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ROBERT BARR,

knees, and then tremulously to his feet.
** You will excuse me if I sit down ? " he
asked.

'' Certainly," said the consul, also seating
himself. * ' What is the trouble ; Saint Vitus's
dance or anjrthing of that kind ? "

** Something of that kind," echoed the
visitor. **I don't really know what the
trouble is, but Fll tell you what it feels
like. It feels as if my brain had become
loosened from the inside of my skull, like a
ripe kernel in a nut; then, if I walk hur-
riedly, it turns over, and the whole world
turns with it, and I have to get down on my
hands and knees and shake my head till my
brain gets right side up again. Do I make
myself clear ? "

**0h, perfectly clear," said the consul,
edging his chair back a little. ** Will you
excuse me, Mr. McSimmins, while I call in
my kawass ? I have some business for him
to do, and you can tell your story with per-
fect freedom in his presence, for I make a
confidant of him anyhow," and the consul
reached his hand toward the bell.

McSimmins smiled grimly. * * You needn't
be afraid. Consul ; I am not going to touch
you. Of course no man makes a confidant
of his kawass, and you think now that I am
crazy. I don't blame you at all ; and if you
are really afraid of me, draw your chair near
the door, and I'll stay over in the remotest
corner of the room. But I should like you to
listen to what I have to say ; officially, that
is what you are
here for, you
know."

'* Oh, I am not
afraid at all,"
replied the con-
sul, thinking it,
however, worth
while to add, ''I
never think my-
self in danger,
because I keep my
loaded revolver in
the drawer here
before me."
Saying which, he
took the weapon
out, and placed
it on his table.

** A most sen-
sible precaution,"
rejoined McSim-
mins, nodding his
head. The nod-
ding seemed to

be unfortunate, for he paused breathlessly,
put his two open palms up to the side of
his face, gave his head a few jerks this way
and that, and then murmured, with a sigh
of contentment, *' That's all right."

The consul thought it well to ignore the
re-turning of the brain which was evidently
taking place imder McSimmins's manipula-
tion, and so he said, as if nothing extraor-
dinary had happened : " When did you return,
Mr. McSimmins ?"

** Return; from where ? "

'* You sailed for home about a month
ago."

" Oh, no, I didn't," corrected the visitor.

** Well, you sent your papers here, and
asked for a permit to leave the country, and
I wrote a note to you saying that a permit
was not necessary, and not hearing from
you again, I took it for granted that you
had sailed."

"Ah, I see," mused McSimmins, about
to nod again, which motion he suddenly
stopped by putting his hand to his forehead.
" I have never left Turkey; in truth, I have
been the guest of Zimri Pasha for the last
month."

'' Really," said the consul. '* Well, the
pasha is a most excellent man, and I wish
there were more officials like him. He told
me he took a great interest in your cold-
water scheme and was doing his best to help
you, and seemed surprised to hear that I
didn't take much interest in it myself."

*■ The eontxtl aorang to hUfeet.*^

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THE PASHA'S PRISONER.

plaeM it on hU table.**

** Yes, I think I converted him," said
McSimmins; ''but only this afternoon.
About a month ago he sent a messenger to
me asking me to bring my papers to him,
and added that he would be glad to learn
something further of the scheme I had in
hand, as he was inclined to believe in it and
wished for more information."

** That's what he told me," remarked the
consul, **and he expressed his regret at
your early departure."

** Very well. I called on him at the hour
named, which was after dark. You know
the pasha's house perhaps, Consul ? "

** Yes; I have visited him somewhat fre-
quently. He is, as I have said, the most in-
telligent Turkish official I have yet met, and
seems to have a sincere desire to elevate the
people."

**That describes him exactly," agreed
McSimmins. ** He delights in the elevation
of the people, and is very successful at it
too."

** I shouldn't go so far as to say that,"
demurred the consul. ** I have never ob-
served any practical results from his en-
deavors in that line."

** Ah, there you do him wrong," pleaded
McSimmins earnestly. **You see I know
the jiasha better than you do, for I have
been his guest for a month. Hut to go on
with my story. On entering I was led past
the semi-public room in which the pasha
transacts his business, taken across the first
court, in which the palm trees grow, into a
smaller room l>eyond, a room along the three
sides of which were divans covered with rich

Oriental rugs, and here,
asking me to be seated,
the attendant disappeared
between the heavy cur-
tains which hung over the
doorway. Presently that
obsequious secretary of
the pasha came in, fol-
lowed by a servant bear-
ing a tray on which were
two tiny cups of coffee.
The secretary saluted me
with that groveling de-
ference of which he is
the cringing master, and
asked me to be good
enough to give him all
my papers, so that the
pasha might scrutinize
them. The pasha, he
added, would have
pleasure in meeting me
socially after the business was transacted.
I had my passport and other papers in a
blue envelope, reposing in my inside pocket,
and this envelope I handed to the secretary.
He then bade me, in his master's name, re-
gale myself with the coffee, which I did. I
imagine the coffee was drugged, for shortly
after taking it I became sleepy, and remem-
bered no more until I found myself securely
pinioned in the ('ourt of the Great Fountain.
Have you seen the ("ourt of the Great Foun-
tain?"

'* No," replied the consul, *' I have never
been admitted further into the residence of
the pasha than the Court of the Palms."

** The pasha's house is an enormous con-
glomeration of buildings, somewhat resem-
bling a stone-walled city. Beautiful as the
Court of Palms is, it does not compare with
the magnificence of the Court of the Great
Fountain. The pavement is a mosaic of va-
rious colored marbles, all the rest is of the
purest white. Arabic arches are supported
by slender glistening pillars, which seemed
to me to be made of onyx, or some rare
white stone. The arches themselves are of
marble, looking like carved virgin snow;
these form a broad, cool veranda that com-
pletely surrounds the court. The floor of
the veranda is elevated perhaps six inches
above the tesselated pavement, and is almost
covered with rich Persian rugs. But the
striking feature of the court is the fountain.
The water, I imagine, is obtained from some
stream or lake in the neighboring mountains,
and the fountain consists of one huge jet as
thick as a man's thigh, which shoots straight

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ROBERT BARR.

up into the air like a liquid palm
tree. It falls back musically into
a deep, broad pond, which is bor-
dered by a heavy coping of mar-
ble. The convolutions of this
coping form a margin to this
pond that is amazingly irregular,
and which, the pasha told me,
spells out in Arabic his favorite
text from the Koran."

*'What an excellent idea,"
interrupted the consul.

** Isn't it?" agreed his vis-
itor. ' * Perhaps I didn ' t appreci-
ate it at the moment as much as
I should have done, for I found
myself in a most cramped and
uncomfortable position. - A stout
stick had been thrust under my
knees, and my arms had been
drawn under the projecting ends
of this stick until my knees
struck against my breast. My wrists were
strapped together, and the straps fastened
in some way behind my back. My ankles
were united by fetters, and I lay thus in a
helpless heap like a trussed fowl. The pasha
sat cross-legged on a pile of rugs and pillows
under the veranda, peacefully smoking a
water-pipe, of which the hubble-bubble was
drowned by the musical plashing of the great
fountain. He sipped now and then some
coffee from a little cup on a table by his side,
and regarded me placidly with that serene,
contemplative gaze which you may have
noticed in his dreamy eyes when he is in-
clined to converse on philosophic subjects.
Standing near him were four stalwart Nu-
bians, black as ebony, whose tongues the
pasha afterward informed me he had been
compelled to order removed, as irresponsible
gossip among his menials was irksome to
him.

** After a time the pasha was good enough
to address me. He expressed in choice
phrase his pleasure at seeing me a guest
under his humble roof, although at the mo-
ment the roof above me was the sky, be-
sprinkled with brilliant stars. He added
that he had been much interested in my
cold-water scheme, and would be pleased to
learn from my own lips how I was getting
on since I had honored his district with my
presence.

** I replied, with a glance at my bonds,
that just at the moment I was not getting
on with any degree of rapidity. The pasha
was condescending enough to smile at this
and bow toward me. Then, after a few whiffs

/ beeoLiM tleepy.'

at his pipe and a sip of coffee, he proceeded
with the utmost suavity : * I have been giv-
ing some attention of late to the cold-water
problem, and have determined to make some
practical experiments that will test its value.
The marble coping round the fountain at your
back was constructed by a Greek slave whom
I once possessed, and who, although he had
most artistic hands, labored under the afflic-
tion of a flighty head, which I was compelled
to remove. Under my directions, he did his
work well, and the coping spells in Arabic
the phrase. If you meet a friend in the desert
who lacks for watery give him cfyour store pUn-
teously. I now propose to vivify this motto
by following its counsel on your behalf.'

** * Indeed, Pasha,' said I, * there is a suf-
ficiency of water about me already, and my
clothes are even now wet through.'

" * My Nubians,' returned the pasha calmly,
* were reluctantly compelled to dip you in the
fountain, so that you might return to the
full enjoyment of your senses, which had
seemingly departed from you. This submer-
sion has happily had the desired result, and
thus I have the privilege of holding converse
with you. But my bounty does not stop so
meagerly. The adage says plenteotisly, and
upon that adage I purpose to act.'

'* * I beg to call your attention. Pasha, to
the fact that I am a citizen of a country at
peace with the government of the Sultan.
With the utmost respect toward your au-
thority, I hereby protest against my present
treatment, and warn you that if you contem-
plate further indignity, you will carry it out
at your peril,' ^^ ^

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THE PASHA'S PRISONER.

** The pasha stroked his beard, and ac-
knowledged my remark with a courteous bow.
* That introduces the elements of an inter-
national discussion into our conversation/
he said with a reproachful tinge in his tone,

fountain gave me an extra fling aloft, I
turned over and came head downward with
sickening swiftness into what seemed to be
a hollow tube of water. Then I came near
to suffocation; but at once the heaving

' and in social intercourse I think anything column would reassert its power and toss

of a political nature is apt to prove a dis- me aloft again, when I could breathe once

turbing subject. Let us confine ourselves more. Now and then I caught a glimpse

to your cold-water theories.' of the full moon in the cloudless blue sky,

'' With this he made a sign to his Nubians, and it appeared to be dancing a hilarious jig

and two of them, springing forward, picked with me. In spite of the noise of the water,

me up as if I had been a bale of goods, and I heard the pasha

swaying me backward and forward, suddenly clap his Lands and

heaved me into the up- spring of the foun- express approval of

tain. The tremendous jet of water struck
me on the back as if it were a battering ram,
and I felt myself projected into the air like
a shot from a cannon\s mouth. Unfortu-
nately, I have not at my command the lan-
guage to depict the horror of that moment.
1 was whirled round and round with dizzying
rapidity, and when I tried to scream, the
water dashed into my open mouth with chok-

the spectacle. * Ex-
cellent, excellent,'
he cried ; ' the gifted
McSimmins dances
with gratifying
ability.'

^ly torture
ended for that night
with a moment of

ing force. My agony was mental rather tlian most
physical, for, except when I turned over and
lay mouth downward to the jet, I cannot
say there was much bodily inconvenience.
Once when I remained for a few moments in
a sitting posture, I saw that I was high in
the air above the tops of the tallest palms,
popping up and down like a pea on a hot
griddle. In spite of the motion, I could
easily recognize the deserted city lying calm
in the moonlight, and so remembering the
hard marble pavement far below% I feared
that I would tumble helplessly over and be that infinitesimal
smashed into fragments on the stone. Such a portion of time I
catastrophe, how-
ever, did not hap-
pen, and by and
by I realized that
it was quite im-
possible to escape
from the influence
of the water jet.
The great danger
was of being
smothered in the
spray — drowned
in mid-air. I
had the peculiar
sensation of sink-
ing into a watery
cushion from
which the rebound
dandled me as if
I were a baby.
Sometimes, when
the powerful

•• If&wnd mptelf •eeureiy pinioned in the Court of the Great Founiain.**

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ROBERT BARR.

leannot aay there woe much bodilf/ inconvenience."

shall never forget. It was in my mind that
the pasha intended to impale me on the
stand-pipe from which the jet issued, but
such was not the case. The water was turned
on again before I reached the level of the
veranda, and such was the terrific force of
the impact, it rising and I falling, that I be-
came instantly insensible ; and when I woke
to consciousness, I found myself stretched
on some rugs under the veranda, my wet
garments removed. But perhaps I weary
you with this lengthened recital ? "

** On the contrary," said the consul, ** I
was never more interested in my life."

The visitor nodded, and having disturbed
his brain by doing so, readjusted it by ma-
nipulating his head with his hands.

** I was taken to a cell in which there was
no light and very little air, and there I lay
all night unable to sleep, sprawling round on
the floor, which seemed to be heaving under
me. Next evening I was taken out again,
and once more flung into the fountain. All
the while I anticipated that dreadful drop
again ; but the pasha, fearing probably that
he would kill me outright, amused himself

by modifying the torture.
The slaves gave periodical
jerks at the lever, cut-
ting off a little water at
a time, and lowering it a
few feet, so that I de-
scended by stages until
almost on a level with
the veranda ; then 1 would
be shot up into mid-air
again. Night after night
of this gave me that
loosening sensation in the
brain of which I com-
plained to you, and the
result of which you saw
when I fell on the carpet.
I sometimes got a little
sleep in my cell during
the day ; but my rest was
always broken, for the
moment I began to dream
I was tossing in the foun-
tain again. At last I saw
that insanity was bound
to intervene, so I resolved
on suicide. One evening,
being more loosely bound
t'lan usual, I turned, by a
great effort, a kind of
somersault, and flung my-
self free of the column of
water. I hoped to strike
the marble pavement, but I fell instead into
the pond, and was instantly fished out by the
Nubians. I told the pasha I was determined
to kill myself, and so for several nights I was
not brought out from my cell. Sometimes 1
thought that he had relented ; but when I re-
viewed the situation carefully, I saw that he
dare not let me go, for if I could get my
government to believe the extraordinary tale
I had to tell, it would be bound to bring him
to book for his conduct. When again I was
dragged into the Court of the Great Foun-
tain, I found that in the interval he had built
a sort of basket around the stand-pipe. This
was made of springy steel or iron, and it
opened like a huge flower, upward, some-
thing like a metal calla lily, if you under-
stand what I mean.

** ' I should be delighted, Mr. McSimmins,'
said the pasha most blandly, ' if you would
favor me again with your vault from the top
of the column.'

** I favored him, and fell into the network
of the basket, and was hurled instantly into
the jet, and aloft again almost before I re-
alized that I had dropped. This amused the

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THE PASHA'S PRISONER

• ' projected myself into the oir/'

pasha very much, and he was loud in his
praise of the feat. Wishing to test still far-
ther the efficiency of the basket, he had the
fountain gradually shut off, and let me come
down into the receptacle ; then the Nubians
took me out of it, undid my bonds, and set
my limbs free. When this was done, at a
sign from the pasha, they flung me sprawl-
ing into the basket. I clasped the network
and shrieked, while they pushed me farther
in, until at last the water caught me, and

once more, breathless with its force, I found
myself aloft; but this time with arms and
legs loose, sprawling like the wings of a
wind-mill gone mad. I was amazed to find
after a time that, because of this freedom of
the limbs, I could somewhat balance myself,
and before the night had passed I was able
to stand upright and tread water, as it were,
keeping my position for some time by the
exercise of great care. Of course every
now and then all my calculations were over-
set by the sudden ceasing of the fountain,
which, removing my support and instantly
undermining my confidence, left me flounder-
ing helplessly in the baslcet, until the stream
resumed its play.

*' After the basket had been constructed,
the pasha, apparently selfishly, wished to en-
joy the spectacle alone, and accordingly sent
his slaves away, and they remained absent
until the clapping of his hands brought them
into the court again, when I was lowered
and taken to my cell. And now. Consul
Turner, you see how I have been treated. I
have no complaint to make, and do not in-
tend to give you any trouble in this matter
at all, but I am fatigued with talking, and
if you will charitably allow me a bed in your
house to-night, 1 will be deeply grateful to
you."

** Certainly, Mr. McSimmins, certainly.
But how did you escape ? "

'* If you will permit me. Consul, after the
manner of the Arabian Nights, to leave the
remainder of the story untold until to-mor-
row morning, it will be a great kindness to
me in my present state of fatigue."

'* But it won't take you long, Mr. McSim-
mins, to give me the climax. Do you mean
to say that this treatment of you lasted the
whole of the past month ? "

** Up to this very evening. Consul. I have
my own reasons for wishing to postpone the
culmination of my narrative until to-morrow
morning, if you will be so good as to indulge
me. You see that I am in a shattered con-
dition, my nerves are wrecked, and although
I do not know that I can sleep, I should like
very much to go to bed."

** You are perfectly safe here," said the
consul, ** and need have no further anxiety.
I will make my kawass sleep outside your
door to protect you."

** No, no. Consul. I don't want a Turk
near me, and I distrust your kawass and all
the rest of them. Would you mind to-night,
if you have a double-bedded room, being in
the same room with me ? "

*' I can do better than that," said the con-

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ROBERT BARR.

8ul. ** There is a room open-
ing off mine, and I will have a
bed put in it ; then no one can
come near you without passing
through my room."

"Tliat will do excellently,"
said McSimmins, seemingly
much relieved.

** The difficulty in obtaining
redress/' continued the consul,
"will be in proving what you
say ; but somehow I find myself
believing your story, incredible
as it seems, and I also believe
the pasha's secretary gave your
papers to my kawass, which,
in a way, is direct proof. I
shall call the pasha to account
to-morrow morning."

**No," said McSimmins, ** I
do not wish redress, nor do I
ask you to take the slightest
trouble on my account."

'* But such treatment of a
free citizen of a friendly coun-
try is intolerable, and we must
at least attempt to obtain
justice, although I am not con-
fident that you will get any
satisfaction."

** Well, if you don't mind,
we will discuss that to-morrow
morning. I really feel unable
to cope with even the simplest
problem to-night. Remember,
I spent the fore part of this
evening at the top of that
fountain."

The consul, without more
ado, led McSimmins to his
chamber, and several times
that night heard him thumping
round the room on the floor.
Early next morning, when he
entered his guest's room, he
found him lying awake. **I
am afraid," he said, ** that you
did not have much rest last
night."

** Oh, indeed, 1 feel quite
refreshed, thank you ; although
I precipitated myself on the
floor several times during the
night. I hope I did not disturb
you."

"Not at all," replied the
consul. " And now will you
excuse my curiosity and tell me
how you escaped ?"

**Ina moment Ivxu at hU throat,"

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THE PASHA'S PRISONER

'' That was, after all, a very simple mat-
ter. I don't know whether I told you that,
latterly, to save themselves troable, they got
into the habit of flinging me into the foun-
tain stark naked ; but, as I think I mentioned,
I became quite expert at balancing myself on
the top of the jet. Last night, when the slaves
had departed, I put my tmnds over my head
and projected myself into the air, endeavoring
to fall clear of the basket, which I did. In
a moment I scrambled over the marble cop-
ing, and I think the pasha was dozing, for
he made no motion either to stop me or to
call his slaves. I was afraid my brain would
play me a trick, and so I acted with intense
celerity. In a moment I was at his throat,
and had him pinioned and helpless on his
back. Gripping his windpipe with my left
hand, I undid his scarf with my right, and soon
had it bow-stringed round his neck "

** You surely did not strangle him ? *' cried
the consul horrified.

** Oh, no, I shouldn't think of doing such
a thing. I have a great respect for the
position of pasha. I gagged him so that he
could not cry out, and tied his hands so that
he could not clap them together. Then, with
some difficulty, I stripped him, and dressed
myself in his clothes. He seemed stunned
very much by the suddenness of my onslaught ;
and seeing that he was too panic-stricken to
cry out, I ungagged him, and unbound his
hands. Then picking him up— all the time 1
was struggling with him, remember, I saw
three pashas, my brain wobbling about like
loose nails in a rolling barrel ; but I steadily
concentrated my attention on the middle
pasha, and resolved to attend to the other two
afterwards if they should be still there — pick-
ing him up, then, as I say, I flung him, back
downward, into the basket, and before you
could snap your fingers, he was dancing on
the water-spout high above the palm trees.
The other two pashas had gone up with him ;
and so, folding his robes around me, I walked
calmly down the passage, through the Mon-
key Court, along the other passage, through
the Court of Palms, and so out into the

street, imimpeded, the watchman opening
the gate for me and closing it behind me
without a word. That is the beauty of hav-
ing well-trained servants, unaccustomed to
question any act a man does. From there
I came directly to your residence, and here
I remain until you can get me on shipboard."

** But, McSimmins, you don't mean to say
you have left the pasha there all night ? "

*' I have but followed his own Arabic text,
which you will find engraved around his foun-
tain. I have given Wm water, and plenty of
it. It was not for me to interfere further.
I did not tell you last night, fearing you
might consider it your duty to intervene. If
the pasha likes his position at the top of the
fountain, he has doubtless remained there;
and I can assure him, from experience, that
it will take him several days to learn to
make the dive I made."

** Oh, but this is most serious, McSimmins,
taking the law into your own hands in that
way and endangering the person of the
pasha."

** I took the pasha into my own hands,
but there is no law in his caravansary, and
I didn't like to trouble my government over
a small personal matter like this, knowing
they would talk a great deal and do nothing.
And, after all, one cannot pay a greater
compliment to his host than to follow his
example."

** I must send down at once and see what
is the outcome of this."

"Certainly," returned McSimmins; *'it
would only be a neighborly thing to do."

But at that moment the gorgeous kawass
rapped at the consul's door. ** Excellency,"
he said, a thrill of fear in his quivering voice,
** news has come that the Tasha Zimri has
been found drowned in his own fountain.
Mysterious are the ways of Allah, the good
pasha is gone."

**Ah," said McSimmins grimly, ** every
situation has its compensations. If he has
had too much water in this world, it is not
likely that he will have to complain of an
over-supply in the next."

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THE COMING TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE SUN.

By Professor Simon Newcomb.

WHAT ASTRONOMERS HOPE TO LEARN FROM THIS ECLIPSE—
WHAT THEY HAVE LEARNED FROM PREVIOUS ECLIPSES.

Uow an image of the nun may bf thrown on a screen tetth a nmall
teleacope or a common apif-glaaa.

A TOTAL eclipse of the sun is one of the
most impressive sights that nature of-
fers to the eye of man. Such a sight will
be witnessed by dwellers along a certain line
in Louisiana, Mississippi, Georgia, and the
Carolinas on the 28th of May. To see it to
the best advantage, one should be in an ele-
vated position commanding the largest pos-
sible view of the surrounding country, espe-
cially in the direction from which the shadow
of the moon is to come. The first indication
of anjrthing unusual is to be seen, not on the
earth or in the air, but on the disk of the
sun. At the predicted moment, a little
notch will be seen to form somewhere on
the western edge of the sun's outline. It
increases minute by minute, gradually eat-
ing away as it were the visible sun. No
wonder that imperfectly civilized people,
when they saw the great luminary thus
diminishing in size, fancied that a dragon
was devouring its substance.

For some time, perhaps an hour, nothing
will be noticed but the continued progress of
the advancing moon. It will be interesting
if, during this time, the observer is in the
neighborhood of a tree that will permit the
sun's rays to reach the ground through the
small openings* in its foliage. The little im-
ages of the sun which form here and there
on the ground will then have the form of the
partially eclipsed sun. Soon the latter ap-
pears as the new moon, only instead of in-
creasing, the crescent form grows thinner
minute by minute. Even then, so well has
the eye accommodated itself to the dimin-
ishing light, there may be little noticeable
darkness until the crescent has grown very
thin. If the observer has a telescope with
a dark glass for viewing the sun, he wiH now
have an excellent opportunity of seeing the
mountains on the moon. The unbroken limb
of the sun will keep its usual soft and uni-
form outline. But the inside of the cres-
cent, the edge of which is formed by the sur-
face of the moon, will be rough and jagged
in outline.

A few minutes before the last vestige of
the sun is to disappear, the growing darkness
will become very noticeable. It is a curious
fact that the darkness does not seem to come
on uniformly, but like a series of shadows,
following each other at intervals of a few sec-
onds. The cause of these seeming shadows
has been the subject of some discussion ; but
there is reason to believe that they are an
optical illusion, caused by the unequal rate
at which the eye accommodates itself to the
diminution of light.

A short time before the fading crescent is
to disappear, the observer should look toward
the point from which the shadow is to come
— commonly not far from the west, say be-
tween southwest and northwest. If the air
is quite clear, the shadow will first be seen
on the distant horizon, advancing at the
rate of a mile in every two, three, or four
seconds, according to circumstances. The
nearer the time is to noon, the slower will

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THE COMING TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE SUN.

1 0fJmmt M. 173. tUUpm of June 18, 180ft.

VIEVff ' ' THE aOLAE COBONA DURING TOTAL ECUPSES.

be the adraoce, and the rooTf inj;»re«»nre the
siglit. ^>D it comes. In a moii -lit the spec-
tator' wiJ] be enveloped in it. : le adTanc-
ing mountains on the ragged surface of the
moon have reached the sun's edge, and noth-
ing is seen of the latter except a row of
broken fragments or points of light, shining
between the hollows on the lunar surface.
They last but a second or two before they
▼anish.

Now is seen the glory of the spectacle.
The sky is clear and the sun in mid-heaven,
and yet no sun is visible. Where the latter
ought to be, the densely black globe of the
moon hangs, as it were, in mid-air. It is
surrounded by an eflPul^ence radiating a
saintly glory. This is now known as the
" corona.'' Though bright enough to the
unaided vision, it is seen to the best advan-
tage with a telescope of very low magnifying
power. Even a common opera glass may
suffice. With a telescope of high power
only a portion of the corona is visible, and
thus the finest part of the effect is lost. A
common spy-glass, magnifying ten or twelve
times, is better, so far as the splendor of the
effect is concerned, than the largest tele-
scope. Such an instrument will show, not
only the corona itself, but the so-called
** prominences " — fantastic cloud-like forms
of rosy color rising here and there, seem-
ingly from the dark body of the moon.

The darkness during the height of an
eclipse is not so great as it is sometimes sup-
posed to be. The sun still illuminates the at-
mosphere outside the region of the shadow,
casting into the whole dark interior a *' dis-
astrous twilight," as Milton calls it, strong
enough to enable the astronomer to read the
time by his chronometer without difficulty.
It may be likened to the actual twilight
about half an hour after sunset.

Under any circumstances the observer will

have but a short time to enjoy the scene.
In a minute or two, perhaps three, four, or
five minutes, according to circumstances, sun-
light will be seen coming from the same di-
rection as that from which the shadow ad-
vanced. A few seconds more, and it flashes
upon the observer. The glory disappears in
a moment, and, except for the partially
eclipsed sun, nature assumes her usual aspect.

Much has been written about the effect of
such an eclipse upon animals. Quite likely
these descriptions have been exaggerated.
But it has not always been thus in the case
of men. Arago tells of a girl in the south
of France who was tending cattle in the
fields during the eclipse of 1842, which was
total over the region in which she lived.
Filled with alarm at the black object which
had usurped the place of the sim, she ran
forward crying. When light returned and
the sun reappeared, she dried her tears with
the exclamation, ** Oh, beautiful sun! "

Of late years a powerful aid has been lent
to astronomy by photography. With the
sensitive chemicals now used in the photo-
graphic art it is possible to photograph celes-
tial objects which are invisible to the eye.
Millions of stars are now being charted in the
sky, and thousands of faint nebulae discov-
ered, which the human eye would never have
seen, even when aided by the most powerful
telescope. Now it is hoped that our astron-
omers ^vill apply some method of photograph-
ing the sky around the sun during the coming
eclipse. If there is any ohjoct or any group
of objects there of which the attraction
would produce any effect, we hope that it
may be discovered.

The eclipse will in Home of theno particu-
lars be fortunate and In othi^rH unfortunate.
It is rare indeed that Miich a phenomenon
occurs in a climate where thnre Is so little
cloud as in the region of ( i eort^la and North

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PROFESSOR SIMON NEWCOMB.

E'Kpae of July 8, 184^. EcUptte of July W. 18bl.

VIEWS OP THE SOLAR CORONA DURING TOTAL ECUP8ES.

Carolina, over which the shadow of the moon
will pass. On the other hand, the duration
of totality is very short, little more than a
minute near New Orleans, and less than a
minute and a half in North Carolina. This
compares very unfavorably with the six-
minute duration of the* eclipses of 1868 and
1883. But we may rest assured that our
astronomers will make the best use of the
brief moments at their disposal ; and if any-
thing is to be learned, they will undoubtedly
find it out.

Eclipses of the sun are of such general in-
terest to the public, as well as to the astron-
omer, that the reader will perhaps not be
wearied if I say something more about them.
A sort of dramatic interest is given to them
by the fact, so familiar to all of us, that the
sun and moon are almost exactly of the same
apparent size. Each of these bodies is at
certain times a little nearer to us than at
others. When the moon is nearest to us, it
seems a little larger than the sun, and when
farthest away, a little smaller. It makes all
the difference in the world in the character
of an eclipse which of these two is the case.
In the first case, the moon will entirely hide
the sun ; in the second it cannot.

To see to the best advantage what will hap-
pen, the observer on the earth must choose
such a place that the center of the moon
will pass exactly over the center of the sun.
What he then sees is called a central eclipse.
If the moon is a little larger in apparent size,
it hides the sun, and the eclipse is total.
But if it is smaller, the extreme edge of the
sun will be seen all around the dark edge of
the moon, forming a ring of sunlight. The
eclipse is then annular. Such an eclipse
does not offer the same advantage in the
study of the sun that a total one does, and
is therefore of less scientific interest. But
it must be very instructive to any one who

has the opportunity to see it. On the aver-
age the apparent size of the moon is smaller
than that of the sun, so that annular eclipses
occur a little of tener than total ones. In 1865
an annular eclipse was visible in the South-
em States, and another will pass through
the Gulf of Mexico and across Florida on
June 28, 1908. During the latter the sun
will be almost covered.

It is remarkable that, though the ancients
were familiar with the fact of eclipses, and
the more enlightened of them perfectly under-
stood their causes, some even the laws of
their recurrence, there are very few actual
accounts of these phenomena in the writings
of the ancient historians. The old Chinese
annals now and then record the fact that an
eclipse of the sun occurred at a certain time in
some province or near some city of the Em-
pire. But no particulars are given. Quite
recently the Assyriologists have deciphered
from ancient tablets a statement that an
eclipse of the sun was seen at Nineveh, B.C.
763, June 15th. Our astronomical tables
show that there actually was a total eclipse
of the sun on this day, during which the
shadow passed 100 miles or so north of
Nineveh.

Perhaps the most celebrated of the ancient
eclipses, and the one that has given rise to
most discussion, is that known as the eclipse
of Thales. Its principal historical basis is a
statement of Herodotus, that in a battle be-
tween the Lydians and the Medes the day
was suddenly turned into night. The armies
thereupon ceased battle and were more eager
to come to terms of peace with each other.
It is added that Thales, the Milesian, had
predicted to the lonians this change of day,
even the very year in which it should occur.

An eclipse of which we have a very ex-
plicit statement in the writings of the an-
cients is now generally known as the eclipse

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THE COMING TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE SUN.

of Agothocles. Agothocles was tyrant of
Syracuse, and was long engaged in war with
the Carthaginians. In B.C. 310, the latter
were blockading his fleet, of which he was
in personal command, in the harbor of his
own town. He availed himself of a momen-
tary relaxation in the blockade to sail away
for the Carthaginian territory. The second
day of his voyage, which lasted six days and
nights in all, he saw a total eclipse of the
son. This observation would have been of
great use to the astronomers of our time in
correcting their tables, were they sure of the
locality of Agothocles at the time he made
it. But it has been an open question whether
he sailed directly toward the south or went
toward the north, making the circuit of the
whole Island of Sicily. The result would be
quite different in the two cases. The prob-
ability now seems to be that he passed to the
north, and this accords with the conclusions
from our most recent investigations on the
motion of the moon.

In modern times, since it became possible
to predict the path of an eclipse along the
earth's surface, and the time at which it
would begin and end at any given place, the
principal interest which astronomers at first
took in the phenomenon grew out of the test
which it afforded of the tables of the moon's
motion. In 1715, the shadow of the moon
passed over the western and southeastern
parts of England, including London in its
range. Halley, who had just been made as-
tronomer royal, planned a more extended and
careful series of observations on this eclipse
than had ever before been made. Men in
various towns near the edge of the shadow
noted carefully whether the sun was totally
eclipsed or not, and where it was, how long
the total phase lasted. In this way it be-
came possible to lay down on a map, from ob-
servations, the limits of the moon's shadow
without an error of more than two or three
miles. The times of beginning and end of
the total phase were also carefully noted in
London and its immediate neighborhood.

The French astronomers had a different
method of observation, which could be equally
well applied whether an eclipse was total or
not. They did what any of us can do with
the aid of a spy-glass : they pointed a tele-
scope at the sun, and then, instead of look-
ing into the telescope, held a screen at some
little distance behind it, on which an image
of the sun was thrown. By looking at this
image the progress of the eclipse could be
noted more easily than by looking at the sun
itself, because no dark glass was necessary

and the observer could sit down and watch
the affair at his leisure. The diameter of
the sun on the screen was mariced off into
twelve digits, and the time by the clock at
which the sun was eclipsed one, two, or three
digits, and so on could be recorded.

It was not until after the beginning of the
nineteenth century that men l^gan to avail
themselves of total eclipses to make obser-
vations of the sun's surroundings, with a
view of throwing light upon the question of
the physical constitution of our great lumi-
nary. The corona and the prominences had
been observed since the seventeenth century,
and drawings and descriptions of the appear-
ances made ; but it does not seem to have oc-
curred to any one that questions respecting
the nature or cause of these objects could
be answered. Even now the reader may in-
quire how it is that we can learn anylJhing
about the sun by hiding him from our sight,
and, if we can, why a chimney would not an-
swer the purpose as well as the moon. The
answer is not far to seek. In the daytime
the whole air around the sun is so brightly
illuminated that it is impossible to see any-
thing in the immediate neighborhood of that
body. We may cut off the sunlight from
our eyes by a chinmey, but we cannot cut
off the illumination of the air except by an
object far above the air. The size and dis-
tance of the moon are such that it cuts oft
a great deal of light for hundreds of miles
around us, and enables us to see the region
close around the sun through an almost dark
sky.

Even when curiosity as to the corona and
prominences began to be aroused, it was long
before any answers to questions about them
were apparent. Any one could look into a
telescope, describe what he saw, and, if a
good draughtsman, make a picture of the
scene. But what could he learn from such
a picture ? So much in the dark were even
the most advanced astronomers on the sub-
ject up to the middle of the nineteenth cen-
tury, that it was not established whether the
corona belonged to the sun or to the moon.
If, as might be the case, the latter was sur-
rounded by a very rare atmosphere, even one
80 rare that we could not see it on ordinary
occasions, its bright illumination by the rays
of the sun might show as a corona around
the moon. In 1851 a total eclipse was visi-
ble in Northern Europe, which enabled the
question of the whereabouts of the red prom-
inences to be settled. It was found that, as
the moon traveled along over the sun, she
traveled over the prominences also, advanc-

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PROFESSOR SIMON NEWCOMB.

ing on those in front, uncovering those be-
hind. This showed that these objects cer-
tainly belonged to the sun and not to the
moon. The same would probably be true of
the corona, but in this case it was difficult
to reach so positive a conclusion.

About 1863-64 the spectroscope began
to be applied to researches on the heavenly
bodies. Mr. (now Sir William) Huggins, of
London, was a pioneer in observing the spec-
tra of the stars and nebulae. For several
years it did not seem that much was to be
learned in this way about the sun. The year
1868 at length arrived. On August 18th
there was to be a remarkable total eclipse of
the sun, visible in India. The shadow was
140 miles broad ;
the duration of
the total phase
was more than six
minutes. The
French sent Mr.
Janssen, one of
their leading
spectroscopists,
to observe the
eclipse in India
and see what he
could find out.
Wonderful was
his report.' The
red prominences
which had per-
plexed scientists
for two centuries
were found to be
immense masses
of glowing hydro-
gen, rising here
and there from
various parts of

the sun, of a size compared with which our
earth was. a mere speck. This was not all.
After the sunlight reappeared, Janssen began
to watch these objects in his spectroscope.
He followed them as more and more of the
sun came out, and continued to see them
after the eclipse was over. They could be
observed at any time when the air was suffi-
ciently clear and the sun high in the sky.

By a singular coincidence this same dis-
covery was made independently in London
without any eclipse. Mr. J. Norman Lock-
yer was then rising into prominence as an
enthusiastic worker with the spectroscope.
It occurred independently to him and to Mr.
Huggins that the heat in the neighborhood
of the sun was so intense that any matter
th^t existed there would probably take the

MAP SHOWING THE PATH OF THE COMING ECLIPSE (MAY 28,
1900), WITH THE EXACT TIME IN THE MORNING AT WHICH
THE ECLIPSE WILL OCCUR AT VARIOUS POINTS DESIGNATED.

form of a gas shining by its own light. The
spectrum of such a gas is composed of bright
lines, which are but little enfeebled to what-
ever extent the spectrum as a whole may be
spread out by the prism through which it
passes. But the sun's light reflected from
the air is more and more enfeebled the more
it is spread out. Consequently, if a spec-
troscope of sufficient power were directed at
the sun just outside its border, the brilliancy
of the light reflected from the air nagm be
so diminished that the bright lines from the
gases surrounding the sun would be seen.
It was anticipated that thus the prominences
would be made visible. Both of the inves-
tigators we have mentioned endeavored to

get a sight of the
prominences in
this way; but it
was not until Oc-
tober 20th, two
months after the
Indian eclipse,
that Mr. Lockyer
succeeded in hav-
ing an instrument
of sufficient pow-
er completed.
Then, at the first
opportunity, he
found that he
could see the
prominences
without an
eclipse !

At that time
communication
with India was by
mail, so that for
the news of Mr.
Janssen's discov-
ery astronomers had to wait until a ship
arrived. By a singular coincidence his re-
port and Mr. Lockyer's communication an-
nouncing his own discovery reached the
French Academy of Sciences at the same
meeting. This eminent body, with pardon-
able enthusiasm, caused a medal to be struck
in commemoration of the new method of re-
search, in which the profiles of Ix)ckyer and
Janssen appeared together as co-discoverers.
Since that time the prominences are regularly
mapped out from day to day by spectroscopic
observers in various parts of the world.

Up to the present time the question of the
corona is an unsettled one. There appears
to be some yet unsolved mystery enveloping
its origin. Everything about it shows that
it cannot be an atmosphere of-the sun,^as
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THE COMING TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE SUN.

was once supposed. Were such the case, it
would, unless composed of some substance
vastly lighter than hydrogen, be drawn down
to the sun's surface by the powerful attrac-
tion of that body. It could not rise hun-
dreds of thousands of miles from the sun, as
the corona does ; and even if it did, its light
would be smooth and uniform, whereas the
coronal light has a sort of hairy or fibrous
structure. This may be seen on most of the
good photographs of the corona.

Professor F. H. Bigelow has noticed a re-
markable resemblance between these seem-
ing fibers and the curves which iron filings
scattered over paper assume when we place
a magnet under the paper. He has thus
formed a theory of the corona based on
some action of the sun akin to magnetism.
The coincidence between the results of this
theory and the general figure of the corona,
especially the direction of the fibers, is, to
say the least, very curious. Some sort of
polarization in the direction of the sun's axis
seems to be clearly indicated. But we have
here no explanation as to how the matter
forming the corona is kept from falling into
the sun by the powerful attraction of grav-
ity, which is there twenty-seven times what it
is on the earth. Quite likely this is brought
about by some form of electrical or other re-
pulsion, similar to that which is seen to act
in the tail of a comet.

Another mystery is the nature of the long
streamers, sometimes extending far beyond
the outer parts of the corona. Some anal-
ogy has been suspected between these and
the streamers of the aurora; The view has
thus arisen that the corona may be an au-
rora around the sun. More observations and
studies must be made, both upon the aurora
and the phenomena of terrestrial magnetism,
before we can reach any decided conclusion
on this question.

The composite nature of the spectrum of
the corona shows that the substance which
forms it is not all in the same state. Most
of the light which it emits gives an unbroken
spectrum, seemingly without dark lines. This
shows that it emanates partly from hot par-
ticles, and not wholly, from diffusing gases.
It is likely that this matter shines partly by
its own light and partly by the reflected light
of the sun. But there are also bright lines
in the spectrum, one of which has particu-
larly attracted the attention of Jnvestigators
ever since its discovery in 186^. It seems
to be emitted by some gas not known to ex-
ist upon the surface of the earth, and to
which the name coronium has been given.

It is interesting to remark in this connection
that the solar spectrum shows at least one
other substance in the sun which was for-
merly not known to exist on the earth, and
which was therefore called helium. But,
only a few years ago, this substance was
found in clevite, a somewhat rare mineral
of Norway. Possibly we may yet discover
coronium somewhere on the earth.

We may consider it as certain that the
corona, considered as a mass of matter, is
a very flimsy affair. When we recall that
its extent is to be measured by hundreds of
thousands, nay, millions of miles, and that
it surrounds a globe of more than a hundred
times the diameter of the earth, and there-
fore having more than ten thousand times
the earth's surface, we might think of it as
a very massive structure. But we should be
deceived. A few quarts of water condensed
in the air will make a very respectable-look-
ing fog or cloud. Such a cloud in the im-
mediate neighborhood of the sun would shine
with a hundred thousand times the light
which any terrestial cloud ever shone with in
the brightest rays of the sun. Quite likely,
if we should surround the earth with a corona
like that of the sun, we should never be able
to see it, or to detect its existence in the air
or above the air, by any research we could
make. But an observer on the moon would
see it plainly. It would be the same with
the tail of a comet, which is so tenuous that
we can see a small star through a million
miles of its thickness. Fifty miles' thick-
ness would not suffice to make it visible in
the brightest rays of the sun.

Perhaps the most interesting object which
the spectroscopists have examined during
total eclipses is known as the ** reversing
layer." This was first discovered by Pro-
fessor Young, during the eclipse of 1870,
which he observed in Spain. He was no-
ticing the changes in the appearance of the
spectrum given by the sun's light when the
moon was nearly cutting it off. At the very
last moment, when no part of the sun was
visible except its extreme edge, the dark
lines of the spectrum were changed to bright
ones. As the last ray disappeared, all the
bright lines of the spectrum flashed out.
This showed that the substances which com-
pose the sun exist at its immediate surface
as a layer of glowing gases, all substances
being vaporized by the fervent heat which
there prevails. This heat is more intense
than anything we can produce by terrestrial
means.

The questions that relate to the sun are

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PEOFESSOR SIMON NEWCOMB,

not the only ones that total eclipses enable
the astronomer to attack. Such of our
readers as have specially interested them-
selves in celestial science are doubtless aware
that the motion of the planet Mercury shows
a minute deviation which might be produced
by the attraction of a planet, or group of
planets, between it and the sun. This de-
viation was first discovered by Le Verrier,
celebrated as having computed the position
of Neptune before it had ever been recog-
nized in the telescope. His announcement
set people to looking for the supposed planet.
About 1860, a Dr. Lescarbault, a country
physician of France who possessed a small
telescope, thought he had seen this planet
passing over the disk of the sun. But it
was soon proved that he must have been mis-
taken. Another more experienced astron-
omer, who was looking at the sun on the
same day, failed to see anything except an
ordinary spot, which probably misled the phy-
sician-astronomer. Now, for forty years
the sun has been carefully scrutinized and pho-
tographed from day to day at several stations
without anjrthing of the sort being seen.

Still, it is possible that little planets so
minute as to escape detection in passing over
the sun's disk may revolve in the region in
question. If so, their light would be com-
pletely obscured by that of the sky, so that
they might not ordinarily be visible. But
there is still a chance that, during a total
eclipse of the sun, when the light is cut oflf
from the sky, they could be seen. Observers
have, from time to time, looked for them
during total eclipses. In one instance some-
thing of the sort was supposed to be found.
During the eclipse of 1878, Professor Wat-
son, of Ann Arbor, and Professor Lewis
Swift, both able and experienced observers,
thought that they had detected some such
bodies. But critical examination left no
doubt that what Watson saw was a pair of
fixed stars which had always been in that
place. How it was with the observations of
Professor Swift has never been certainly as-
certained, because he was not able to lay
down the position with such certainty that
positive conclusions could be drawn.

The Pickerings, of the Harvard observa-
tory, have devised a special combination of
four photographic telescopes, to take the
region on each side of the sun during the
total phase, and see whether any new objects
are found on the negatives.

There is a curious law of recurrence of
eclipses, which has been known from ancient
times. It is based on the fact that the sun

and moon return to nearly the same positions
relative to the node and perigee of the moon's
orbit after a period of 6,585 days, 8 hours,
or 18 years and 12 days. Hence, eclipses
of every sort repeat themselves at this in-
terval. For example, the coming eclipse
may be regarded as a repetition of those
which occurred in the years 1846, 1864, and
1882. But when such an eclipse recurs, it
is not visible in the same part of the earth,
because of the excess of eight hours in the
period. During this eight hours the earth
performs one-third of a rotation on its axis,
which brings a different part under the sun.
Each eclipse is visible in a region about one-
third of the way round the world, or 120® of
longitude, west of where it occurred before.
Only after three periods will the recurrence
be near the same region. But in the mean-
time the moon's line of motion will have
changed so that the path of its shadow will
pass farther north or south.

A study of the eclipses of the series to
which the present one belongs will illustrate
the law in question. The f^t one that we
need mention is that of 1846, April 25. The
middle point of the shadow-path, that is, the
point where the total phase occurred at
noon, was then in the West Indies, among
the Bahama Islands. This was the first
eclipse of the series that was really total,
and here it was total only near the middle of
the path. The path passed from the Pacific
Ocean over northern Mexico, touched the
northern end of Cuba, and crossed the At-
lantic Ocean to the African coast of the
Mediterranean. The central point was in
25® north latitude

The next recurrence was on May 6, 1864.
The shadow swept over the Pacific Ocean,
and the middle point of its path was in 32®
north latitude. After the lapse of another
period, the eclipse returned in 1882, May
17. The shadow swept across the great
desert of Sahara, passed through Egypt and
the continent of Asia, leaving the earth in
the Pacific Ocean south of Japan. The mid-
dle point was now in 39® north latitude.

Next we have our present eclipse of May
28th. After passing from New Orleans over
the Gulf States along the line shown on our
map, the shadow will enter the Atlantic
Ocean at Norfolk, cross over to the Spanish
Peninsula, and pass along the Mediterranean
into Northern Africa. The central point will
be in the Atla- tic Ocean, in 55® north latitude.

During thb three periods of recurrence the
changes in the respective positions of the
sun and moon have been such as to throw

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THE COMING TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE SUN.

the shade some seven degrees farther north
at each recurrence, or ali^nt twenty degrees
in all That is, it will now pass twenty de-
grees farther north than it passed in 1346.

The next period of 6,585 days will bring
OS to 1918, June 8. The shadow will then
pass from near Japan over the northern part
of the Pacific Ocean, strike our Pacific coast
near the mouth of the Columbia River, and
travel over the United States in a southeast-
erly direction, through Oregon, Idaho, south-
west Wyoming, Colorado, Arkansas, and the
Gulf States and Florida. Somewhere in Mis-
sissippi or Alabama it will cross the path of
the present eclipse. At the point of cross-
ing the inhabitants will have the pleasure of
seeing two successive total eclipses of the
series. Their fortune, however, will not be
so remarkable as that of the inhabitants at
a point in the Northwest who saw both of
the toUl eclipses of 1869 and 1878.

The series will continue at the regular in-
tervals we have mentioned until 2044, Au-
gust 28, when the shadow will barely touch
the earth in the region of the North Pole.
After that it will skip our planet entirely.

There are two series of eclipses remark-
able for the long duration of the total phase.
To one of these the eclipse of 1868, already
mentioned, belongs. This recurred in 1886,
and will recur again in 1904. Unfortunately,
at the first recurrence, the shadow was cast
almost entirely on the Atlantic and Pacific
oceans, so that it was not favorable for ob-
servation by astronomers. That of 1904,
September 9, will be yet more unfortunate
for us, because the shadow will pass only
over the Pacific Ocean. Possibly, however,
it may touch some island where observations
may be made. The recurrence of 1922, Sep-
tember 21, will be visible in Northern Aus-
tralia, where the duration of totality will be
about four minutes.

To the other series belongs the eclipse of
1883. This will recur in 1901, on May 18th,
when the moon's shadow will sweep from
near Madagascar and cross the Indian Ocean,
Sumatra, Borneo, and Papua, Unfortunately,
this region is very cloudy, and however care-
fully the preparations for observations may
be made, the astronomers will run a gj-eat
risk of not seeing the eclipse. But hope
springs eternal in the human breast ; and it
is not likely that observers will be deterred
from an heroic attempt by any threats of
the weather. .

At the successive recurrences the duration

of totality will be longer f^^ long^"'^\^^^^
the twentieth century. In 1937, 1955, and

1973 it will exceed seven minutes, so that as
far as duration is concerned our successors
will have a more remarkable opportunity
than their ancestors have enjoyed for many
centuries.

The question may arise as to the degree of
precision with which the path of an eclipse
can be predicted by the astronomer. It is
sometimes supposed that he can determine a
hundred years in advance, and to the exact
second, when such a phenomenon will begin
or end. This is a great exaggeration of his
powers. One entertaining such an idea may
have a very high opinion of the power of
modem mathematics, but he has no concep-
tion of the difficulties of the problem of the
moon's motion. The pull which the sun ex-
erts on the earth and moon by its gravita-
tion second after second, minute after min-
ute, hour after hour, day after day, and year
after year must be known, and its effect con-
tinually added up by a mathematrc method
of which man had no conception until the
time of Leibnitz and Newton. The changes
in the positions of the two bodies caused by
the pull of the sun continually changes the
action of that pull, because, as one will read-
ily see, the latter depends upon the relative
positions, while the positions are continually
changed by the pull. This is what makes
the problem so complicated.

If we had only the sun to deal with, yre
might hope to get along. But the planets,
especially Venus, come in, and insist on hav-
ing their little pull also. Before their action
was found out, there were some deviations in
the motion of the moon which are now at-
tributed to the action of Venus. To com-
pute this action is the most complex problem
which the mathematical astronomer has to
deal with, and he has not yet succeeded in
solving it to his satisfaction. And when he
has solved it, he is by no means at the end
of his trouble. There are several indications
that the rotation of the earth slowly changes
from time to time, our planet turning on its
axis sometimes a little faster and sometimes
a little slower. The change is, indeed, very
slow ; not more than two or three thousandths
of a second in a day. But, if it takes to ro-
tating faster even by this minute amount it
will get ahead of its calculated place bv a
second m a year and a minute in sixty ye^ •
and then the astronomer who fixes his noint
of observation bo that he will be carried to
exactly the cenU^r of the moon's shadow
according to calculations made sixty veari
before, may find hinjMelf out of the wav bv
several miles. ^ ^

MISS CULLENDER'S LAMB.

What makes the matter dilBcuIt is that
these changes in the earth's rotation can-
not, so far as we have yet learnt, be exactly
observed, or even predicted ; they probably
arise from changes in the position of ice
around the North Pole, changes in ocean
currents, and perhaps in the movement of
the winds. The reason that they cannot be
directly determined is that we cannot make
any clock which will keep time year after
year without the error of a second. The
rotation of the earth on its axis affords the
astronomer the only measure of time he can
use in his work, and if it goes wrong, he is.

for the time being, left at sea. But his
motto to-day is always forward ; he has not
lost one particle of enthusiasm because his
science has been progressing for 2,000 years.
He will leave no device untried to learn
everything that is to be learned about the
motions of the earth and heavenly bodies,
confident that if he must fail, his succes-
sors will carry on his work to perfection.
If to-day he cannot tell his successors of
the year 2000 when to expect an eclipse
within one minute by the clock, he of the
year 2000 may do it for his successor of
2100.

MISS CULLENDER'S LAMB.

By Tiohe Hopkins,

Anthor of •' The Master-key of Newgate," " As It Fell Out," •' A Tale of a Tub," etc

THE STORY OF A SINGULAR PRISON FRIENDSHIP

you
said

hair off,
she spoke

*M very sorry to see
back again, Bone,*'
the wardress.

** Don't you go gittin*
your hair off about me,
Miss," returned the pris-
oner imperturbably.
She was getting her own
not in the sense of metaphor, as
It may be superfluous to observe

that the rules do not allow a prisoner to ad-
dress an officer in this style ; but when the
officer is a little bit of a thing, and the cul-
prit an impenitent giantess, it is not well to
be always thinking of the rules.

** You promised us you were going to live
quietly; you know you did."

** Changed me mind."

** And I'm really afraid. Bone, that you
have not learned better manners."

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MISS CULLENDER'S LAMB.

'* Come back to get a hexfcra polish on
'em, p'raps. Oh, it's a rare shop for man-
ners, ain't it, Miss ? An' I reckon you've
about took enough off of me."

** I shall finish sooner if you will sit still.
Well, now that you are back, I do hope.
Bone, you are not going to be very trouble-
some."

**Ah! That depends, Miss. I'm goin'
to be'ave accordin'. If they comes any of
their tricksy-wicksies, if they don't let me
wear me cap same as I fancies it, if they
gits messin' of the vittles, if they puts me
to live next a party what prays at night, if
they keeps back my letters to the 'Ome Sek-
katary, if they don't jolly well let me have
my little smash when I feels like it, if they
reports me more than once a week, if they
starts me schoolin' agen with a spellin'-
book, if "

** There, Bone, I think that will do. You
know quite well the rules about talking."

"An' Aif," continued the prisoner, with
asperity, '* I ain't never to be allowed to finish
me little say same as any other lady "

'*Bone," said the mild- voiced wardress,
*' do you remember what you promised Miss>
Cullender the day you went out ? "

**Lor' bless me, Miss, if I hadn't clean
bang f ergot her ! Fergit Miss Cullender ?
Well, I'm a black bad un, an' no error!
Miss, my dear, how is me angel Miss Cul-
lender?"

** I'm sorry to tell you she has gone. Bone.
She left us a month ago. Now, do try and
behave as you used to do when she was over
you!"

But the entreaty was ill-timed. " What ! "
cried the giantess. ** I don't believe it!
Where is she ? Where's Miss Cullender—
me own Miss Cullender ? "

** Hush, hush! Be quiet. Bone, do! The
matron will be here, and I shall have to re-
port you on your very first night."

** Rip-port me!" with a scream of con-
tempt in crescendo. ** Go and report me,
you low little hussy! A lot I care! Ain't
I made 'em report me and report me till they
was sick on it ? Where's Miss Cullender ?
Fetch the men in, and run me into the
.darks.* Put the waiskit on me, and the
darbies too. If Miss Cullender's gone, I lay
I make a smash of it to-night, an' it'll
take more than the— lot of you to stop me.
I'll "

The great swarthy creature was upright

• Officer* from the maJe Bide are occasionally iammoned
to the female aide, to toke a violent woman into charge. " The
darks'' are the old-faehloned pantohment celli, the oae of
which has been entirely diacontinaed.

now and bellowing, her hair lying in black
wisps about her feet. The little wardress,
not a bit afraid, was considering her course.
She knew that Bone would very likely fall to
biting when she had finished barking, but on
the female side they are more familiar with
parleyings than on the male side, where the
** cat " is always under the governor's coat-
tails ; and the wardress, although very angry
now, was still for a via viedia. A door at
the end of the long bare room opened, and
Madam Bone wheeled about, flaming, for a
rencounter with her old enemy the matron.
But the matron did not appear.

Instead, there drifted in two wardresses,
carrying between them the placid figure of a
young prisoner in a swoon. Like Bone, she
was evidently a fresh arrival, for her light
brown hair was still untouched under the
prison cap.* She seemed not above twenty
years of age, small and slender, with rather
pretty, irregular features; and the brown
serge dress under the blue check apron
seemed maliciously to mock a virginal soft
outline. There were tear stains on. the face.

''There's a cruel sight for you!" said
Bone. ** Started on the pore young thing
already, have you ? Send her 'ome to her
mother."

** Hold your tongue ! " said the first ward-
ress. '* If you speak another word you'll
be reported, as you deserve to be. Why
have you brought this girl here ? " she in-
quired.

** She just passed through reception," said
one of the two wardresses. ** I was bring-
ing her to have her hair cut, and she fainted
in the corridor. Miss Bromston helped me
to carry her in."

The first wardress— herself such another
little countrified slender thing as the faint-
ing prisoner— glided across the room, and
stooped over the unfortunate with a sister's
face of pity, not noted of the defiant Bone.

** She must not stay here. You must
please take her up to the infirmary, and let
the doctor see her at once."

The other two wardresses raised their
weak burden again, the door closed behind
them, and the interruption was at an end.

** Give us quite a turn. Miss, didn't it ? "
observed Bone, but no answer was accorded.
'* Ho! Leastways it give me a turn," con-
tinued Bone; **but I expect I'm kind of
soft. We ain't all built the same, an' that's
a fact. An' now, Miss, if you've done makin'
a show of me, I'll withdraw to me apartment.

^ It Is as well to state that the horrid practice of cntti:
the hair of female prisoners has been quite discarded.

cutting off

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THE STORY OF A SINGULAR PRISON FRIENDSHIP.

if you please ; and just a slice of buttered
toast an' a kipper to me tea."

There was a moaning in the oflScers' mess-
room upon the word of Bone's return. It
was two years since she had gone out in a
mood of elegant humility, taking with her a
prayer-book, the gift of her good genius
Miss Cullender. Where was that prayer-
book now ? Or, what was more to the point,
where were the fruits of Miss Cullender's
ministrations, which, dating fi^m her first
black eye, closed in the hour of grace that
saw the gates shut on Bone, with infinite
promises of good on her part ?

** Oh! " said a wardress, dipping into the
jam which made a treat on pay-day, ** if only
Miss Cullender would come back! "

** Well, that's no use, l)ecause she won't,"
from the other side of the table. ** You
don't give up being matron to come back
and play angel to ^ne. Has any one seen
the brute?"

** It's enough to have heard her for the
present. Miss Aylmer was cropping her hair,
and she roared out she'd make a smash of it
to-night because Miss Cullender had gone.
I vote we keep her in the darks all the time.
Do you remember the fashion she set in sui-
cides?"

" Do I remember ? " cried a chief ward-
ress at the head of the table. '' I had her
hall. Tied her stay-lace round her neck,
and sat down to wait the next comer. The
night after, just as I had come off duty, I
was called down again, and there were thirty-
five idiots sitting on their beds, their eyes
out of their heads, half-throttled in their
stay-laces. Ugh ! I wish I was out of it."

A young wardress entered the mess-room
in a flurry, and took the nearest chair.
** There's a beast just come in from recep-
tion," said she, '' thirty feet high, as big as
a town hall, and as black as blacking. She's
on her back in the cell, pounding the door
with her feet, and yelling for Miss Cullender.
Who's Miss Cullender ? "

** This was Miss Cullender's lamb, my
dear," replied somebody. **Miss Cullen-
der was the only one on the staff who could
put a ribbon round her neck, and Miss Cul-
lender's gone."

Bat in the course of the evening Bone had
once more forgotten her Miss Cullender, and
was vociferating a new grievance. The ten-
ant of a neighboring cell had voiced a shrill
protest against the uproar, and Bone, hav-
ing recognized the voice, had promptly de-
manded the ejection of its owner.

*' It's that Tib! " she shrieked. " Put
her out of it. D'ye 'ear, some on you
screws ? Put that convick somewheres else.
I won't 'aw the toad next door to me.
Where's the screw that should be sneakin'
this ward ? You're there right enough when
you ain't wanted. Shove that Tib in the
darks, an' gag her! Ain't I goin' to get
no sleep ? FU show you ! "

A new demonstration followed against the
door of Bone's cell, which those soles of
brass hammered and battered until the prison
seemed in danger of collapse. The whole
hall was now aroused, and the defeated, weary
wardress went up and down vainly entreat-
ing quiet.

The matron was fetched from bed. It
was clear that such a breaking-out was im-
minent as is known only upon the female
side. The ringleader must be put away, for
the din was spreading, and a hall in revolt
on the female side means, sooner or later,
a prison in riot. The matron gave the word,
and the signal-bell was rung for help.

In less than a minute two warders pre-
sented themselves at the light iron gate of the
hall, and were passed in. The cells here were
furnished with two doors, the outer one an
iron grating, the inner solid. As the ward-
ress on duty passed her hand through the
grating to draw the bolt of the second door.
Bone rose exultant from the floor.

'' Said I'd make a smash of it, didn't I?
Have the boys come ? That's all right.
Ain't set eyes on one of 'em this two year.
I 'ope they're pretty fresh, 'cos I means
business with 'em. Lor', Miss Stewart,
ma'am" — to the matron — *' to think that
there 'orrid Tib should ha* fetched you out
of bed! Such rubbish as comes here, I
never!"

' ' Take this woman to the punishment cells,
please," said the matron.

Nothing liked Bone better than to get a
warder under one arm and use him as a
weapon of offense upon his fellow, a scenic
feat without its parallel in that theater. But
one of the knights in waiting that evening was
old Master Makewell — Johnny Makewell —
who had an asthma on his chest and a heart
passing weak ; and Bone knew him very well.

' ' It's never Johnny ? ' ' says she. * ' Well,
Johnny, I always did say, and always shall,
that the woman as would lay a hand on you
— and who's your pal, my dear ? I couldn't
never set about one pore chap by hisself ;
there must be a pair on ye, or it ain't fair.
So come along, we'll go a little quiet walk
together."

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MISS CULLENDER'S LAMB,

And yielding herself up, Bone went forth
Hke Miss Cullender's lamb to the darks.
Her cell, finely disarrayed, was locked; the
matron returned to bed ; and the tired ward-
ress gave herself to the task of soothing
the raging tenants of the other dens.

This is what it is sometimes Tike on the
female side. Over the way, where the shom-
heads of the other sex abide, it is seldom if
ever thus. The rules are alike, or pretty
nearly alike, on both sides of the wall ; but
whereas on the male side rules are framed for
most inevitable observance, the same rules
on the female side are for somewhat other
and looser application, by those who must

Gonstnid the times to their neceesities.

On this side, ribs of steel ; on that side, bands
to draw tight or to relax at need.

Madam Bone, with the strength of two or-
dinary men and the passions of the jungle,
could flout and spit upon authority, and at
the last reduce it to a mock, being a mere
woman. Little crazy Benjamin Cudd could
be scourged red till he spelled authority like
his primer, being a lord of creation.

In the ward from which Bone had been
escorted there lay that night a murderess
whom the commotion bad greatly moved.
It was her first evening in prison, and she
shook and sobbed under her coverlet. W ithin
an hour or two of her arrival she had given
Bone what that wicked beauty called a
" turn," by being carried inanimate into the
hair-dressing department. Her own light
brown locks had been taken from her since
then, and she thought this was a punishment
added to the sentence of the judge because
she had killed her baby. She was twenty-
two ; her name was Meadows ; and the lover
who had left her to the law had called her
Elsie. There is always an Elsie Meadows in
some ward of the prisons. Sometimes she
is witless, sometimes flinty and phlegmatic,
sometimes very pleased and gay at having
missed the gallows, and sometimes listening
day and night for the bells of childhood.

For a fortnight Belle Bone kept the strict-
est seclusion of the darks, whereby the staff
got a little ease of her. For the darks were
a dwelling apart, in a kind of lobby shut off
from the prisoners' wards, and though the
officer on duty there could and generally did
have a dour time of it, echoes of the explo-
sions which burst at intervals or incessantly
from the little black caverns had but a nar-
row range, for the walls were thick and the
doors were thickly padded.

Bone's energy and invention in the daiks
would sure have

. . . got the joice is heU for ezceHenoe.

She worked incredibly to entertain herself
and harass all her keepers. Fed almost en-
tirely on bread and water, she must have nour-
ished herself from within, for her strength
abated nothing from day to day. An hour
together she would use her head as a batter-
ing ram against the concrete wall, and would
spend an hour or two afterward springing
from the floor to the grating above and
wrenching at the bars. She played foot-
ball with her tin pint, and maintained a run-
ning comment on the game in bolted lan-
guage. Punctually once a day she hanged
herself in her garters or a strip rent from
her gown. Fresh bed stuff must be passed
in to her every night, for in the morning she
made ribbons of it. She rehearsed in hex
biggest voice memoirs of the matron in which
that overwrought and sober-sided woman was
credited with above a dozen gallant pasts.
In the same style, and that all might hear
who would, she arraigned herself before the
visiting director, an elderiy magistrate, at
once the fear and the butt of the female
side, who wore a cherished lock of reddish
hair on the summit of a thinly covered scalp.
Bone played her own part and the directoi^s
in tones that would have filled a colosseum,
turning the tables on him at the fall of the
curtain with this invariable tag: " An' that's
what I think of you, oki Ally Sloper with a
top-knot!"

These vociferous and studied efforts, issu-
ing from the total dark of the penal cell at
all hours of the day and often in the dead
middle of the night, had an evil effect on
the nerves of a listener, and were not calcu-
lated to make the artist remembered in her
orisons by the scapegoat who chanced to be
on duty.

Nearly all of these wardresses were over-
worked, and many of them had their nerves
continually on edge. It was a fifteen or six-
teen hours' day three days a week, and a
twelve hours' day the rest. The female side
holds all the vices that are, and others ; and
the vehement savage who was always ready
to fling a stool, a pint, or a pair of scissors
at the convenient head of her officer, had
her parallel in the sullen, quiet schemer
who would plot for days to bring trouble
or disgrace upon the wardress that had
been her steady friend. Lying, lewd, cruel,]
and full of all uncharitablenesa — of such

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THE STORY OF A SINGULAR PRISON FRIENDSHIP.

1 gifts compacted were the animals who kept
I the darks in tenants and the staff upon the
.^rack.

They have not to use on the male side that
variety of effort which is needed to discipline
the female side. On the male side the day
goes mostly, as it were, by clockwork; no
departing from the rules; and very curious
it is that the criminal man, who can by no
means discipline himself in freedom, becomes
in prison a very model of obedience and self-
restraint under the harshest code our social
system knows. But the fallen, lawless woman,
who by all history's showing is closer ** in
Belial's grip " than the most wicked man, is
often worse in prison than ever she is out of
it. The silent cell, the ordered workroom,
the drear, walled yard where she must trudge
with even steps along a measured strip of
asphalt — these are settings of the life of
prison which teach her, not patience, but re-
volt ; and one day she makes what they call
a smash of it, after which it is the mischief
and all to cajole or coerce her back to steadi-
ness, for she has learned that she can give
worse than she can get.

Hence, on the part of the staff, that cease-
less sounding of the depths of compromise,
those efforts to win over, to interest, to hu-
mor, to appease, to tame, to make the rules
apt to the case; for on the male side they
govern masses by a word, and on the female
side they seek to lead the individual. They
tell me that the little pension — so long to
wait for — is rarely able to be earned in full
in this dreadful service.

At the end of a fortnight's *' solitary,"
Bone expressed herself ready to join the
other ladies. There were times when she
announced her intention of going to the
darks, to ** have it out with herself," and
it was usually politic to let her go ; and if,
when sent there in disgrace, she thought to
put a period to her penance by the promise
of behavior, it was, in general, the part of
wisdom to release her. So, on a Sunday
morning, there marched to chapel with about
600 other daughters of the night — thieves,
burglars, shop-lifters, murderesses, swindlers,
and beautiful harpies who had put off their
furs in the reception-room — Belle Bone the
Magnificent, Miss Cullender's lamb, with her
cap trimmed in defiance of the rules and her
gown fixed quite in the style of fashion. She
swept to her place, very big and fine, ignor-
ing the frown of the matron, and heeding as
little the prisoners' titter of delight. The
wardress who sat beside the gigantic woman
did not cease to regard her with apprehen-

sive sidelong glance, but Bone's conduct was
exemplary.

Right in front of her was the little fragile
Meadows, whose face never lost its look of
fear, and who was evidently very close on
tears during the hymns. Bone, rejoicing in
her thews, and in the knowledge that she
could do almost as it liked her in the prison,
eyed the frightened neophyte with a mea-
sured glance. Bone had never been fright-
ened in prison, and had never felt in the least
like crying, but she had come as near to
being shocked as was possible with her when
she had seen this girl carried in fainting on
the night of her arrival. As a class, pris-
oners on the female side are without kind-
ness for one another, but when friendships
are made, these storm-tossed creatures are
sometimes quite demonic in their jealousies.
As they filed out of church Bone whispered
to the girl, ** Don't think you ain't got no
friend, honey. There's one a-watchin' you,"

The girl, who seemed to draw her breath
in terror, neither looked up nor answered,
and probably did not know who had spoken
to her ; but as Bone went in front she started
with new alarm at the back view of that
colossal convict.

On Sunday evenings the wards showed a
curious sight, when the women sat at the
doors of their cells in a dim light and heard
prayers read. Bone had observed with a sat-
isfied sniff that the enemy Tib had been re-
moved, and she was now to scheme for the
company of the proUgie who did not know
her. But the girl was far away at the other
end of the ward, her eyes, as usual, chained
downward.

Bone was an adept at scrawling on a bit
of paper called a '' stiff " an ungrammatical
challenge to an enemy or a fierce protest of
affection to a friend, and with all the vigi-
lance of the wardresses, it was not difficult
to get such messages conveyed from one end
of prison to the other ; but she was shrewd
enough to guess the risk of trying this kind
of communication with that little shivering
Meadows.

There was yet another plan. Prisoners of
approved behavior were allowed sometimes
to share a cell during certain working hours ;
and now and then a woman of gentle ways
(many such on the female side) was sent to
use them in the cell of some poor distracted
or passion-riven sister. Bone was going to
be good, that she might have that white-
f ac^ little Meadows to live with her. Bone
would call her by her Christian name.

But Bone's aspirations toward a nice con-

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MISS CULLENDER'S LAMB,

duct were so much interfered with. The
next day, at exercise, it was the enemy Tib
who had prepared a surprise for her. It was
December, and the women were muffled up
for their hour's sodden tramp, and the ward-
ress was shaking in her bear-skin cloak.
Presently Tib, a squat-framed vixen with a
mouth like a crater, produced something
from beneath her cloak and held it up. It
was a rag doll, which a lenient fancy might
accept as an effigy of Bone. Down the ranks
it went from hand to hand to the tune of a
guffaw, until it stayed with Miss Cullender's
lamb.

Then was that lamb transformed, oh, ter-
ribly! She bounded from her place, gath-
ered the doll-maker in her arms, rushed with
her across the yard to where the snow had
drifted deep, flung her in there, and then
set about her with two efficient hands. The
wardress blew her whistle, and others came
running ; but this was eminently Bone's morn-
ing out, and they could not drag her from
the prey. Last of all came the men, and it
was a pity that the one with a beard had not
stayed to shave it, for Bone's grip was fatal
to those appendages.

But as the procession fared tussling and
tossing through the corridor, who should be
encountered shrinking fearfully against the
wall but Elsie Meadows. Bone looked full
on her, and grew silent; but the girl re-
mained cowering, with her hands over her
face. The lamb went lamb-like to the darks.
More than that, when the bolts of the door
were shot she was just as quiet, and the as-
tonished wardress doing sentry-go at that
usually harassed outpost heard not a sound
to fret the dragging hours. Night came,
and the silence night should own was felt
throughout the darks.

It was reported in the wardresses' room,
where they thought it more ominous than
reassuring. " She's saving it up for a bit
later," one of them remarked. " I'm glad
I'm not on there to-night."

" She may have gone and hanged herself,
you know," observ^ another, and there was
a visible brightening of faces, until the ward-
ress who had come off duty in the darks
stated that the prisoner was " all there."

The officer on night duty in the penal ward
must knock every hour at every cell in oc-
cupation, and if the inmate will not answer,
she must put her arm through the outer
grating and open the trap in the second door,
to make sure that nothing awkward has hap-
pened. Sometimes the lamp in the ward-
ress's hand showed a prisoner hanging by

the neck; most often the victim in the
darks was snug on her plank, and ignored
the challenge merely to give the wardress
the trouble of opening the trap, when she
would be ready with her, " Sold again! "

But Bone this night answered her chal-
lenges as sentry to sentry, and it was a thing
most unaccountable and quite irregular.

At one in the morning, when the soft
** Good-night, Bone," came again, and the
prison was uncommonly reposed, the answer
passed through the doors, " That you. Miss
Aylmer, my dear?"

'* Yes, Bone."

'' Jest shove the trap up, my dear, and
put your hand in. I ain't a-goin' to hurt
you." Up went the trap, and through it the
hand of the wardress.

'* Law ! " said Bone, as she took it in her
own two, ** I could pull you up off your feet,
honey" — the trap was high in the door —
*' an' hold you there till you bloomin' fainted.
I done it once with a screw I'd got me knife
into."

* * I'm not a bit afraid of you. Bone. What
do you want ?"

'* I'm all right. Miss."

*' Can't you go to sleep ? "

" Ain't botherin' about sleep, my dear.
My, what a teeny little soft hand you got!
Like Miss Cullender's. Peel mine. You can
sleep any whiles in the darks ; leastways I
can. Ain't never heard of Miss Cullender
since, have you. Miss ? "

" She's matron of a prison in the north."

** Ah! I'll do me next stretch there."

** Do you think Miss Cullender would like
to see you there. Bone ? "

" If you don't talk like her! I give that
Tib a good come over, didn't I ? "

** What has made you so quiet since ? "

" Law, if you don't git at me jest like
Miss Cullender! Well, I'm good 'cos I'm
comin' out."

** But you know you're in for another fort-
night. Bone ? "

" Yes, an' it might 'be a bloomin' month;
but when I feels like comin' out, my dear,
out I comes."

The statement made waste paper of the
rules, for Bone had received sentence of an-
other fourteen days in the darks ; but Miss
Aylmer's experience whispered it to her as
the raw, humiliating truth. ** Of course you
won't come out. Bone," she said ; ** and now
you must please go to sleep. I'm glad you
have been so quiet to-day."

** An' when I comes out. Miss, I'm goin'
to have that little cotton-faced Meadows in

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THE STORY OF A SINGULAR PRISON FRIENDSHIP,

me cell with me. Pm goin' to do her a
sight of good ; an' good-night, Miss, an' bless
you."

Now, even as Bone had predicted, and as
Miss Aylmer had foreseen, discipline and the
rules went by the board again; for the next
afternoon as ever was. Bone's mighty inches
were uplifted in her proper cell, and over
against her sat Elsie Meadows.

Bone was sewing, and the same was, for a
sign and signal of grace, most strange.
Those unapt, indocile digits got pricked,
and Bone execrated, but went on sewing.
Every now and then she looked hard and
long at her fellow-worker, as though by
strength of will she would force some im-
pression on her, which the girl could or
would by no means receive. Elsie's face,
straw-colored and haggard, showed the old
fear, but over it was laid a look of wonder-
ment. *' An' now," said Bone, ** you ain't
a-goin' to tell me agen that you done it ? "

** I did," said the girl slowly.

** It's a lie!" responded Bone, jabbed
her thumb with the needle, uttered a paren-
thetic imprecation, and repeated, *' It's a
lie!"

This crisis had been approached by coax-
ings, questionings, and threats on the part
of Bone, who sat now in full possession of
the case, the greater part of which she had
afaready known.

It was a case in which an element of doubt
had proved the girl's salvation — so far, at
least, as the gallows was concerned. The
judge had clearly thought her guilty, but
the prosecution was half-hearted, and the
jury would not convict on the capital charge.
The little broken-hearted murderess had gone
out convicted of manslaughter only; but the
prison, where every one was kind to her, was
doing her to death more cruelly than the
hangman would have done.

Bone, who could gauge the effects of prison
upon any one, gave her six months of life.
The judge, believing she was guilty, had
given her ** ten years." Bone was in for
twelve months. It happened that she had
been living in the same tenement with the
girl — one of those barracks for everybody,
on the Surrey side of the Thames — and this
fact she had laid stress upon to Meadows,
working up to her ungodly climax.

" Look at me, my gal," she said, and fixed
her with an awful glance. *' I'm a-goin' to
tell you truth, an' you better believe me.
It was me that done it! "

As the splendid purport of the lie broke
slowly in on Meadows she gasped, and her

eyes strained at Bone with an expression
terrible to watch: the pitiful hunger-look
of a thing in a cage that sees the door held
open just a little way. Then a better look,
though not constant, and a wail from the
weak, striving heart: ** Oh, don't tempt me
so ! Don't do it ! I shall die here, and soon ;
but I deserve it, for I did it."

'* You listen to me," began Bone again;
and one overhearing her might have sworn
she spoke truth, so fixed and cool her voice.
" I'm a-goin' to say agen I done it, and I'm
a-goin' to stick to it. It's easy. Look
here : you was out of the room for a bit be-
fore eleven o'clock that night, wasn't you ?
Yeo. An right. There come along another
party, drunk maybe ; stumbles into your room
drui^, mind you ; goes flop on the bed in the
dark, the drunken rubbish, an' stifles the
child. That's how I done it."

" It's false, there isn't a word of it true,"
moaned the girl; but the wild longing for
escape was in her eyes again. ''I wasn't
away ten minutes, and when I came back he
was "

*^ He was dead," said Bone, and blacker
lie could ring no truer.

The wretched girl was utterly convulsed,
and cowered moaning on her stool. The
black angel went on, always in the same
smooth, compelling tone : " I goes before the
guv'nor. I straightens things out along of
him. The guv'nor writes to the 'Ome Sek-
katary. It^s easy. The 'Ome Sekkatary,
he gits you a free pard'n. It's easy. You
ain't bin in trouble afore; they thinks it's
me, natural. Me an' the guv'nor an' the
'Ome Sekkatary fakes it afore you can turn
round. The 'Ome Sekkatary says : * Wat
Bone ! Belle Bone ! W'y, a-course she done
it ! ' an' the guv'nor says, says he : * We
might ha' knowed it all along! ' "

** But you didn't, you didn't, you didnH."

V An' you goes out agen, FREE."

* * Oh, yes, yes, I will ! Let me go ! Only
let me go!"

The face of Bone blazed triumphant, ma-
jestic even. ** You're a-goin', my gal," said
she.

The door was unlocked, and a wardress
entered to take^ Meadows back to her own
cell. "She says I shall go free!" cried
the girl. " She says I shall go free! " then
flung out her arms, and fell prone on the
floor of the cell.

The doctor was just going his rounds, and
he came in. His examination ended, he drew
the coarse sheet of the bed over the girl's
face.

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THE D^BUT OF BIMBASHI JOYCE.

By a. Conan Doyle,

Author of •• AdventnreB of Sherlock Holmee,*' " The Refugees,'* " A Duet/* etc.

A STORY OF BRITISH ARMY LIFE IN EGYPT.

^T was in the days when the tide
of Mahdism, which had swept
in such a flood from the great
lakes and Darfur to the con-
fines of Egypt, had at last
come to its fall and even be-
gun, as some hoped, to show
signs of a turn. At its out-
set it had been terrible. It
had engulfed Hicks's army,
swept over Gordon and Khar-
tum, rolled behind the British forces as they
retired down the river, and finally cast up a
spray of raiding parties as far north as As-
souan. Then it found oth^r channels to east
and west, to Central Africa and to Abyssinia,
and retired a little on the side of Egypt.
For ten years there ensued a lull, during
which the frontier garrisons looked out upon
those distant blue hills of Dongola. Behind
the violet mists which draped them lay a land
of blood and horror. From time to time
some adventurer went south toward those
haze-girt mountains, tempted by stories of
gum and ivory, but none ever returned.
Once a mutilated Egyptian and once a Greek
woman, mad with thirst and fear, made their
way to the lines. They were the only ex-
ports of that country of darkness. Some-
times the sunset would turn those distant
mists into a bank of crimson, and the dark
mountains would rise from that sinister reek
like islands in a sea of blood. It seemed a
grim symbol in the southern heaven when
seen from the fort-capped hills by Wady
Haifa.

Ten years of lust in Khartum, ten years
of silent work in Cairo, and then all was
ready, and it was time for civilization to
take a trip south once more, traveling, as
her wont is, in an armored train. Every-
thing was ready, down to the last pack sad-
dle of the last camel, and yet no one sus-
pected it, for an unconstitutional government
has its advantages. A great administrator
had argued and managed and cajoled ; a great

soldier had organized and planned, and made
piasters do the work of pounds. And then,
one night, these two roaster spirits met and
clasped hands, and the soldier vanished away
upon some business of his own. And just at
that time Bimbashi Hilary Joyce, seconded
from the Royal Mallow Fusiliers, and tem-
porarily attached to the Ninth Soudanese,
made his first appearance in Cairo.

Napoleon had said, and Hilary Joyce had
noted, that great reputations are only to be
made in the East. Here he was in the East,
with four tin cases of baggage, a Wilkinson
sword, a Bond's slug-throwing pistol, and a
copy of Green's *** Introduction to the Study
of Arabic." With such a start, and the
blood of youth running hot in his veins,
everything seemed easy. He was a little
frightened of the general. He had heard
stories of his sternness to young officers,
but, with tact and suavity, he hoped for
the best. So, leaving his effects at Shep-
heard's Hotel, he reported himself at head-
quarters.

It was not the General, but the head of
the Intelligence Department, who received
him, the chief being still absent upon that
business which had called him. Hilary Joyce
found himself in the presence of a short,
thick-set ofllcer, with a gentle voice and a
placid expression which covered a remark-
ably acute and energetic spirit. With that
quiet smile and guileless manner he had un-
dercut and outwitted the most cunning of
Orientals. He stood, a cigarette between
his fingers, looking at the newcomer.

** I heard that you had come. Sorry the
chief isn't here to see you. Gone up to the
frontier, you know."

'* My regiment is at Wady Haifa. I sup-
pose, sir, that I should report myself there
at once."

** No, I was to give you your orders." He
led the way to a map upon the wall, and
pointed with the end of his cigarette. ** You
see this place. It's the oasis of Kurkur— a

Doyle. All rights rwerved.

Digitized by V:iOOQIC

A. CONAN DOYLE.

little quiet, I am afraid, but excellent air.
You are to get out there as quick as possible.
You'll find a company of the Ninth and half a
squadron of cavalry. You will be in command.**

Hilary Joyce looked at the name, printed
at the intersection of two black lines, with-
out another dot upon the map for several
inches round it.

** A village, sir?"

'* No, a well. Not very good water, I'm
afraid ; but you soon get accustomed to na-
tron. It's an important post, as being the
junction of two caravan routes. All routes
are closed now, of course ; but still you never
know who might come along them."

** We are there, I presume, to prevent
raiding."

** Well, between you and me, there's really
nothing to raid. You are there to intercept
messengers. They must call at the wells.
Of course, you have only just come out ; but
you probably understand already enough
about the conditions of this country to know
that there is a great deal of disaffection
about, and- that the khalifa is likely to try
and keep in touch with his adherents. Then,
again, Senoussi lives up that way " — he
waved his cigarette to the westward — ** the
khalifa might send a message to him along
that route. Anyhow, your duty is to arrest
every one coming along and get some ac-
count of him before you let him go. You
don't talk Arabic, I suppose ? "

*' I am learning, sir."

" Well, well; you'll have time enough for
study there. And you'll have a native oflS-
cer, AH something or other, who speaks
English and can interpret for you. Well,
go^-by ; I'll tell the chief that you reported
yourself. Get on to your post now as quickly
as you can."

Railway to Baliani, the post boat to As-
sonan, and then two days on a camel in the
Libyan desert, with an Ababdeh guide, and
three baggage camels to tie one down to
their own exasperating pace. However, even
two and one-half miles an hour mount up in
time, and at last on the third evening, from
the blackened slag-heap of a hill which is
called the Jebel Kurkur, Hilary Joyce looked
down upon a distant clump of palms, and
thought that this cool patch of green in the
midst of the merciless blacks and yellows
was the fairest color effect that he had ever
seen. An hour later he had ridden into the
little camp, the guard had turned out to sa-
lute him, his native subordinate had greeted
him in excellent English, and he had fairly
entered into his own.

It was iiot an exhilarating place for a
lengthy residence. There was one large,
bowl-shaped, grassy depression sloping do\*Ti
to the three pits of brown and brackish wa-
ter. There was the grove of palm trees also,
beautiful to look upon, but exasperating in
view of the fact that nature has provided
her least shady trees in the very spot where
shade is needed most. A single widespread
acacia did something to restore the balance.
Here Hilary Joyce slumbered in the heat,
and in the cool he inspected his square-shoul-
dered, spindle-shanked Soudanese, with their
cheery black faces and their funny little
pork-pie forage caps. Joyce was a martinet
at drill, and the blacks loved being drilled,
so the Bimbashi was soon popular among
them. But one day was exactly like an-
other. The weather, the view, the employ-
ment, the food, everything was the same.
At the end of three weeks he felt that he
had been there for interminable years. And
then at last there came something to break
the monotony.

One evening, just as the sun was sinking,
Hilary Joyce rode slowly down the old cara-
van road. It had a fascination for him, this
narrow track, winding among the boulders
and curving up the mullahs, for he remem-
bered how in the map it had gone on and on,
stretching away into the unknown heart of
Africa. The countless pads of innumerable
camels through many centuries had beaten
it smooth, so that, now unused and deserted,
it still wound away, the strangest of roads,
a foot broad and perhaps 2,000 miles in
length. Joyce wondered as he rode how
long it was since any traveler had journeyed
up it from the south, and then he raised his
eyes, and there was a man coming along the
path.

For an instant Joyce thought that it might
be one of his own men, but a second glancj
assured him that this could not be so. The
stranger was dressed in the flowing robes of
an Arab, and not in the close-fitting khaki
of a soldier. He was very tall, and a high
turban made him seem gigantic. He strode
swiftly along with head erect and the bear-
ing of a man who knows no fear.

Who could he be, this formidable giant
coming out of the unknown ? The precur-
sor possibly of a horde of savage spearmen.
And where could he have walked from ?
The nearest well was a long hundred miles
down the track. At any rate, the frontier
post of Kurkur could not afford to receive
casual visitors. Hilary Joyce whisked round
his horse, galloped into camp, and gave the

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THE D^BUT OF BIMBASHI JOYCE.

alarm. Then with twenty horsemen at his
back he rode out again to reconnoiter.

The man was still coming on in spite of
these hostile preparations. For an instant
he had hesitated when first he saw the cav-
alry, bat escape was oat of the qaestion,
and he advanced with the air of a man who
makes the best of a bad job. He made no
resistance and said nothing when the hands
of two troopers clatched at his shoalders,
but walked qaietly between their horses into
camp. Shortly afterward the patrols came
in again. There were no signs of any der-
vishes. The man was alone. A splendid
trotting camel had been found lying dead a
little way down the track. The mystery of
the stranger's arrival was explained. But
why and whence and whither ?— these were
questions for which a zealous officer must
find an answer.

Hilary Joyce was disappointed that there
were no dervishes. It would have been a
great start for him in the Egyptian army
had he fought a little action on his own ac-
count. But even as it was he had a rare
chance of impressing the authorities. He
would love to show his capacity to the head
of the Intelligence, and even more to that
grim chief who never forgot what was smart
or forgave what was slack. The prisoner's
dress and bearing showed that he was of im-
portance. Mean men do not ride pure-bred
trotting camels. Joyce sponged his head
with cold water, drank a cup of strong coffee,
put on an imposing official tarboosh, instead
of his sun helmet, and formed himself into a
court of inquiry and judgment under the
acacia tree.

He would have liked his people to have
seen him now, with his two black orderlies
in waiting and his Egyptian native officer at
his side. He sat behind a camp table, and
l>e prisoner, strongly guarded, was led up
to him. The man was a handsome fellow
with bold gray eyes and a long black beard.

** Why/' cried Joyce, ** the rascal is mak-
ing faces at me!*'

A curious contraction had passed over the
man*s features, but so swiftly that it might
have been a nervous twitch. He was now a
model of Oriental gravity.

•• Ask him who he is and what he wants,"

The native ortioer did so, but the stranirer
made no reply save that the same sharp spasm
(wi^^s^i onoe more over his face.

** Well. I'm bles:sedl "* cried Hilar>' Joyce.
•' Of all the impudent scoundrels I He keej^
on winkinjj at me. W ho are you, you rascal ?
Give an account of vourself ! D've hear ? "

But the tall Arab was as impervious to
English as to Arabic. The Egyptian tried
again and again. The prisoner looked at
Joyce with his inscrutable eyes, and occasion-
ally twitched his face at him, but never
opened his mouth. The Bimbashi scratched
his head in bewilderment.

" Look here, Mahomet Ali, we've got to
get some sense out of this fellow. You say
there are no papers on him ? "

" No, sir; we found no papers."

*' No clew of any kind ? "

" He has come far, sir. A trotting camel
does not die easily. He has come from Don-
gola at the least."

** Well, we must get him to talk."

'' It is possible that he is deaf and dumb.'*

'' Not he. I never saw a man look more
all there in my life."

'' You might send him across to Assouan.''

*' And give some pne else the credit. No,
thank you. .This is my bird. But how are
we to get him to find his tongue ? "

The Egyptian's dark eyes skirted the en-
campment and rested on the cook's fire.

** Perhaps," said he, '* if the Bimbashi
thought fit—" He looked at the prisoner
and then at the burning wood.

'* No, no; it wouldn't do. No, by Jove;
that's going too far."

*' A very little might do it."

** No, no. It's all very well here, but it
would sound just awful if ever it got as far as
Fleet Street. But, I say," he whispered,
** we might frighten him a bit. There's no
harm in that."

'' No, sir."

'' Tell them to undo the man's galabeeah.
Order them to put a horseshoe in the fire
and make it red hot."

The prisoner watched the proceedings with
an air which had more of amusement than of
uneasiness. He never winced as the black
sergeant approached with the glowing shoe
held upon two bayonets.

** Will you speak now ? " asked the Bim-
bashi savagely.

The prisoner smiled gently, and stroked his
beard.

'*0h, chuck the infernal thing away!"
cried Joyce, jumping up in a passion.
•* There*s no use trying to bluff the fellow.
lie knows we won't do it. Btft I can and I
will flog him, and you tell him from me that
if he h:isn't found his tongue by to-morrow
morning. 1*11 take the skin off his back as
sure as mv name's Jovce. Have you said
all that?"'

** Yes. sir."

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A, CON AN DOYLE.

** Well, you can sleep upon it, you beauty,
and a good night's rest may it give you! "
lie adjourned the court, and the prisoner,
as imperturbable as ever, was led away by
the guard to his supper of rice and water.

Hilary Joyce was a kind-hearted man, and
his own sleep was considerably disturbed by
the prospect of the punishment which he
must inflict next day. He had hopes that
the mere sight of the koorbash and the
thongs might prevail over his prisoner's ob-
stinacy. And then again he thought how
shocking it would be if the man proved to
be really dumb after all. The possibility
shook him so that he had almost determined
by daybreak that he would send the stranger
on unhurt to Assouan. And yet what a tame
conclusion it would be to the incident! He
lay upon his angareeb still debating it when
the question suddenly and eflfectively settled
itself. Ali Mahomet rushed into his tent.

** Sir," he cried, ** the prisoner is gone."

*'Gone!"

" Yes, sir, and your own best riding camel
as well. There is a slit in the tent, and he
got away unseen in the early morning."

The Bimbashi acted with all energy. Cav-
alry rode along every track. Scouts exam-
ined the soft sand of the Wadys for signs of
the fugitive. But no trace was discovered.
The man had utterly disappeared. With a
heavy heart Hilary Joyce wrote an oflicial
report of the matter and forwarded it to As-
souan. Five days later there came a curt
order from the chief that he should report
himself there. He feared the worst from
the stem soldier who spared others as little
as he spared himself.

And his worst forebodings were realized.
Tntvel-stained and weary, he reported him-
self one night at the General's quarters.
Behind a table piled with papers and strewn
with maps, the famous soldier and his chief
of intelligence were deep in plans and fig-
ures. Their greeting was a cold one.

'* I understand. Captain Joyce," said the
General, " that you have allowed a very im-
portant prisoner to slip through your fin-
gers."

'* I am very sorry, sir."

** No doubt. But that will not mend mat-
ters. Did you ascertain anything about him
before you lost him ? "

'* No, sir."

" How was that ? "

" I could get nothing out of him, sir."

•'Did you try?"

'* Yes, sir; I did what I could."

"What did you do?"

'* Well, sir, I threatened to use physical
force."

''What did he say?"

** He never said anything."

•* What was he like?"

'' A tall man, sir. Rather a desperate
character, I should think."

** Any way by which we could identify
him?"

** A long black beard, sir, gray eyes, and
a nervous way of twitching his face."

** Well, Captain Joyce," said the General
in his stern, inflexible voice, ** I cannot con-
gratulate you upon your first exploit in the
Egyptian army. You are aware that every
English ofiicer in this force is a picked man.
I have the whole British army from which
to draw. It is necessary, therefore, that I
should insist upon the very highest efliciency.
It would be unfair upon the others to pass
over any obvious want of zeal or intelligence.
You are seconded from the Royal Mallows,
I understand ?"

*' Yes, sir."

" I have no doubt that your colonel will
be glad to see you fulfilling your regimental
duties again."

Hilary Joyce's heart was too heavy for
words. He was silent.

** I will let you know my final decision to-
morrow morning."

Joyce saluted, and turned upon his heel.

" You can sleep upon that, you beauty,
and a good night's rest may it give you."

Joyce turned in bewilderment. Where
had those words been used before ? Who
was it who had used them ?

The General was standing erect. Both he
and the chief of intelligence were laughing.
Joyce stared at the tall figure, the erect
bearing, the inscrutable gray eyes.

** No, no! " he gasped.

** Well, well, Captain Joyce, we are quits,"
said the General, holding out his hands.
*' You gave me a bad ten minutes with that
infernal red-hot horseshoe of yours. I've
done as much for you. I don't think we
can spare you for the Royal Mallows just
yet awhile."

** But, sir— but "

** The fewer questions the better perhaps.
But, of course, it must seem rather amazing.
I had a little private business with the Kab-
babish. It must be done in person. I did
it, and came to your post in my return. I
kept on winking at you as a sign that I
wanted a word with you alone."

" Yes, yes, I begin to understand."

** I couldn't give it away before all those

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THE BIGGEST STEAMSHIP AFLOAT.

blacks, or where should I have been the next
time I used my false beard and Arab dress?
You put me in a very awkward position.
But at last I had a word alone with your
Egyptian officer, who managed my escape
aU right."

*'He! Mahomet Ali!"

'' I ordered him to say nothing. I had a
score to settle with you. But we dine at
eight, Captain Joyce. We live plainly here,
but I think I can do you a little better than
Xpu did me at Kurkur."

THE BIGGEST STEAMSHIP AFLOAT.

By E^arl Mayo.

A GOODLY CITY, WITH ALL THE MODERN IMPROVEMENTS, THAT
FLOATS BETWEEN AMERICA AND EUROPE.

fEN thousand tons of steel
beams and braces and plates,
forming a framework one-
seventh of a mile in length,
and carrying a mass of pon-
derous machinery of almost
equal weight — that is the
biggest of ocean steamships in rough analy-
sis. It is easy to forget that she is a
ship. When she is lying at a pier her
vast form towers up like a great building;
and her construction is more akin to that of
a modem *' sky-scraper'' than to that of
any of the craft of earlier days. A skeleton
of steel girders, rising tier above tier to the
height of five stories, is the frame of the
"Oceanic's" great body; and over this is
a skin of steel plates. These plates vary
from an inch to an inch and three-eighths
irf thickness ; they weigh above two tons
apiece ; they were fastened together by the
largest riveting machine ever built ; and they
make the " Oceanic '* the strongest as well
as the largest ship of her kind.

She is an ocean city — nothing less — a mod-
em, driving, twentieth century city, teeming
with all the occupations that man has devised
for himself; an epitome of the two conti-
nents that she helps to unite. Her ordinary
population is upward of 2,000 persons. Set
up on land her steel timbers would provide
the framework of dwellings for all of them.
Her plates would surround the town with a
sofid wall five feet high and eight miles in
length. Her bunkers would supply all the
coal required by the community for two years.
Her stores would stock all its shops. Her
electric plant would light all its streets.
Her engines would drive machinery sufficient
to employ all the inhabitants. What she
could do on land she does in more wonderful
ways at sea, for there this city must be not

only self-contained and self-supporting, but
must, in addition, propel itself across 500
miles of ocean waste every day, in storm or
calm. To do this — to rise superior to all
stress of wind or weather or ordinary mis-
fortune— requires not only vast power, but
a vast reserve power.

In length the ''Oceanic'' surpasses any
other vessel by more than fifty feet. A
mere look at her, especially a walk along her
decks, reveals in some measure her immen-
sity. But to get a really adequate impres-
sion of her greatness you must descend to
that region, unknown of passengers, which
lies below decks, and see the ship's heart
and lungs and muscles stirring her great body
to life and action—watch the nice interplay
of forces beside which human strength is too
insignificant for comparison.

To move a body so vast — ^with cargo
aboard the total weight is upwards of 25,-
000 tons— and to keep steel muscles as thick
as a man!s body up to their work, re-
quires a deal of nutriment. One mouth
is not enough to admit the 500 tons of
coal which are the ** Oceanic's" daily con-
sumption. She has ninety-six. And into
these ninety-six mouths, or furnaces, a solid
ton of the Welsh or Pennsylvania hills dis-
appears every three minutes. A ton and a
half an hour must be burned beneath each
of the large boilers to keep it up to its full
energy— an energy that will suffice to turn
seventeen tons of water into steam every
hour. There are fifteen boilers. The larger
ones develop 2,000 horse-power each, and
are of such huge dimensions that three men
standing one on top of another could scarcely
span the diameter of any one.

Of like proportions are the giant's nostrils
—the funnels through which are breathed out
the smoke and gas that cannot be consumed.

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IN THE ENGINE-ROOM.—TALKS WITH THE ENGINEER,

They rise straight away from the fire-bars
a distance of 1^ feet ; and if they were laid
on the ground, a doable line of trolley cars
could be run through each, with room to
spare. Then the two great engines (the
ship's heart) beat with a steam pressure of
192 pounds to the square inch — seven and
a half tons bearing upon the space covered
by a man's hand. Gleaming pistons of solid
steel, a foot and a half thick, convey this
power to giant
crank-shafts
more than two
feet in diam-
eter. As a pure
display of power
there is nothing
in any other
mechanism to
compare with
the operation of
these engines.
One does not
comment upon
it; he holds his
tongue and
looks. The
motion is not
rapid. The
stroke is six
feet, and the
revolutions of
the crAnk-shaft
are Seventy to
the minute. . It
is the delibera-
tion of a giant
who knows full
well that noth-
ing can stand
against him.
The impressive-
ness of the
movement is
heightened by
the fact that we do not see it in its final
application to the propulsion of the ship.
We see it travel from the engines down the
driving-bars. We see it take hold of the
giant shafts and set them in motion. Then
the shafts, thicker than a man's body, hollow,
of the finest steel, disappear toward the stem
of the ship. We know that they terminate
in the propellers, that each revolution drives
our 25,000 tons' weight over a distance of
about thirty feet. But we know this because
the chief engineer tells us so. All that we
see are the great tubes of steel stretching
away interminably, revolving ceaselessly.

A STERN VIEW OP THE BIGGEST STEAMSHIP AFLOAT.

The rudder of the biggest steamship weighs flfty-lhrce tons. The two
propellers weigh thirty tons each. They each have three blades of man-
ganese bronze, and each blade cost $6,000.

At the engineer's suggestion, we follow
along one of the shafts. Every few feet
it is clamped down by great steel collars,
stronger than itself, so that it shall not tear
the ship apart. The walls of the passage-
way grow more and more narrow. We have
come so far that the sound of the working
engines is subdued and distant. At length
we reach a bulkhead beyond which we can-
not go. We have come 190 feet from the

engines ; thiri;y-
five feet farther
on, the shaft
terminates in
the propeller.

" How much
does it weigh?"
I ask, naturally
enough.

"You can
figure it out for
yourself," says
the engineer.
" For conven-
ience in forging
and handling,
the shaft is
made in nine
sections. Each
section weighs
twenty-four
tons."

More than
three - quarters
of a million
pounds of steel
simply to con-
vey the energy
from engines to
screws! It
seems a lavish
use of power.

*'If one of
these shafts
should break,
the ship would be disabled, wouldn't she ? " I
ask. The suggestion that such shafts as
these could break seems almost preposter-
ous ; but still we have all read of such acci-
dents.

** Hardly," says the engineer in his mat-
ter-of-fact way. ** Look there ! "

I look down beside the section of revolving
shaft at my feet, and see a mighty buckle of
steel bent to fit it, and ready with bolt-holes
and bolts to be fitted on in an instant.

** Unless the break was very bad," the en-
gineer adds, '* that piece would be clamped
into position, and we should be all right again

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THE BIGGEST STEAMSHIP AFLOAT.

in the course of an hour or so. There is one
of these beside each section of the shaft."

It is the same way in every part of the
ship. Ingenuity has done its utmost to pre-
vent a break-down; but if a break-down
should occur, the means of repairing it are
ready at hand.

It is impossible to get a fair view of the
two propellers of the mammoth ship. If you
look at them when the ship is in dry-dock
and they are fully exposed, they seem ridicu-
lously small for the work they do. Small,
in fact, they are not, except in comparison
with the bulk of the ship. They weigh thirty
tons each, and are as tough as anything can
be. Every ounce of metal that went into
them was carefully tested. Even steel was
not trusted here. It is possible for steel to
break, and the propellers had to be unbreak-
able. Therefore, they were made of man-
ranese bronze — manganese bronze, too, at
$600 the ton, which is a matter of $6,000
for each of the six blades (thfee to each pro-
peller), or $36,000 in all.

The " Oceanic ^ has no wheel. Her rudder
weighs fifty-three tons; all the seamen on
board could not control it by mere strength
of hands. The ship, however, answers to the
navigator's will as perfectly and as quickly
as a thoroughbred horse responds to the

gines break down, the quadrant could be con-
nected with a capstan engine that is placed
near by in order to be so used at need ; and
should the rudder itself give way, the ship
could be controlled by a system of drags.

In addition to the two great engines that
supply the propelling power, the "Oceanic "
carries a hundred other engines, all of them
smaller than the two mentioned, but many
of them still far from small. Each of them
has its individual function, and operates in-
dependently. There are warping engines
fore and aft, and capstan engines and cargo
hoists and steam-winches. In the stem
there is the double set of engines described
which operate the rudder, and there is an-
other set forward to handle the giant anchors.
When the **Oceanic's" mud-hooks **takft
the ground" the "thunder of the hawse-
pipes" is the reverberation of chains each
link of which weighs 200 pounds. Then
there is an electric plant larger than many
an enterprising town can boast. It lights
the ship, operates fans, hoists ashes and
provisions from below, heats the staterooms
on the upper deck, boils water, revolves the
brushes in the ship's barber shop, and turns
the spit on which joints are roasted in the
kitchen. There are ten feed-pumps, and five
circulating-pumps, and four ballast-pumps.

jockey's rein. The work is all done by a and three fresh-water pumps, and four brine-

pair of engines provided for this especial
purpose and placed in the stern of the ship.
Attached to the rudder and facing forward
is a quadrant, the arc of which is notched
into heavy cogs. These cogs fit the gear
of the steering-engines, and to change the
course of the ship
becomes simply a
matter of moving
a lever that con-
trols the engines.
Only one of these
engines is in use
at any one time.
The second one is
for emergencies.
Should the one in
use break down
the other stands
always ready to
take its place; a
single movement
of a lever will
throwit into gear,
and it would take
up the work in an
instant. Should
both steering-en-

TWO OF THE BOILERS.

There are fifteen boilers in all, and the larger ones each consume
a ton and a half of coal an hoar.

pumps, and two auxiliary pumps, and two
evaporating-pumps, and one filtering-pump,
and six sundry pumps, according to the en-
gineer's own statement. Therct are twenty
steam fans to keep the air in circulation
throughout the ship. There are two refriger-
ating plants : one
to supply the cold-
storage rooms,
and one to make
ice for the passen-
gers' use.

It is small won-
der that fifty gal-
lons of oil a day
are required to
keep all this ma-
chinery running
smoothly. It does
run smoothly.
Just as the sym-
metry of the great
vessel's lines dulls
our perception of
her true size when
we view her lying
in mid-channel, so
the perfect ad-

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ON THE BRIDGE.'-HOW THE GREAT SHIP IS HANDLED,

jnstment of her mighty organs retards our
realization of the immense power that they
exert. The different parts labor together
without jar or disturbance. The little noise

trolling some distant piece of machinery. By
moving a lever, communication is had with
the engine far abaft which controls the steer-
ing-gear. It is thus possible to swing the

THE OCEANIC" AT THE MOMENT OP LAUNCHING.

The picture shows the spray thrown np by the ship's first contact with the water. Notwithstanding her enormoas weight and
balk, she was stopped within thirty seconds after leaving the ways. From a photograph by Lafayette.

that attends their operation is harmonized to
a single low monotone.

Up a narrow stairway leading from the
promenade deck and bearing the prominent
warning, ** Passengers not allowed," forty
feet above the water-line, is the captain's
room. And on the platform just outside,
all the complex and intricate mechanism
of the vessel is brought together under the
captain's eye and under the possible direc-
tion of his hand. Here is a row of instru-
ments— automatic devices— each one con-

ship as easily as one might guide a canoe by
paddle. Here is a dial on which you read,
''Full speed ahead;" ''Half;" "Slow;"
" Full speed astern." It connects with the
engine-room. Move the indicator to any
one of these designations, and the ship an-
swers with a corresponding movement as
readily as the hand follows the impulse of
the will. The control is perfect. In three
seconds, by directions of voice and hand, the
officer stationed here can reverse the en-
gines, divide the ship into eighteen separate

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THE BIGGEST STEAMSHIP AFLOAT,

and water-tight compartments, and summon
the men to their emergency posts, whether
these be at the fire-hose, beside the life-boats,
or in charge of the auxiliary machinery.

How soon can the ship be brought to a
standstill if danger looms ahead ? That is
a question that readily occurs to one as he
looks out from the bridge when a thick At-
lantic fog bank shuts down all about. The
captain shakes his head when the query is
put to him. ** That is a question we have
never had occasion to answer,'' he says.
" It would depend upon speed and weather
conditions. The screws could be set to re-
volving the other way almost instantly, but
it would take a few minutes for them to
overcome the forward impetus. She would
halt perhaps in two lengths and a half."
Two lengths and a half of the ** Oceanic"
means a third of a mile. That is none too
small a margin.

There is no more beautiful illustration of
modem seamanship and the perfect adjust-
ment to conditions which dominates all the op-
erations of a modern steamship than you have
in observing the warping of the "Oceanic"

into her dock at either end of her trans- At-
lantic journey. Obviously, the landing of a
vessel 700 feet long is not a mere matter of
steaming up alongside the pier. Many more
accidents occur in bringing a steamship to
her dock than in sailing her on the high
seas; and with the '' Oceanic" the task is
especially delicate. She is longer than the
pier itself; there is, perhaps, no more than
two feet between her hull and the bottom of
the channel in the spot where she is to lie,
and less than that on either side ; and exact
allowance must be made for the run of the
tide. Hence the distance which each revo-
lution of the propellers will carry her must
be very nicely calculated. And yet it is all
done as easily and quietly as a girl sets down
her biggest doll in a row with its smaller
mates. The captain stands silently on the
bridge, whence he can survey every yard of
the space in which the ship is to be manceu-
vered. Near by, at the top of a signal tube,
a junior officer is stationed. At the other
end of the tube, alert for every signal, is
stationed the chief engineer. At exactly
the point where the ship's accumulated en-

A SECTION OF ONE OF THE TWO PROPELLER SHAFTS.

We Bcc the heavy collare and immentio rivclinj;» whlrli hold tlu* differrnt parte of the shaft in
place. The »haft is 225 feet in length and more than two feet in diameter, and is compoeed of nine
aectloos each weighing twenty-foar tons.

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BRINGING THE BIGGEST STEAMSHIP TO HER DOCK.

IN THE ENGINE-ROOM.

The enormous driving-bar, which is well shown here, revolves one of the shafts. Normally the shafts each
make seventy-foar revolutions a minute, and each revolution of the two shafts drives the 25,000 tons' weight of tlie
ship aboat thirty feet.

ergy, the set of the tide, and the other fac-
tors in the ship's movements will serve to
set her opposite her crib, the captain gives
an order. At once the great engines hold
their breath, and the giant ship slows down
like a runner at the end of a race. Two

snub-nosed tugs run alongside, one on the
forward port quarter, one astern on the star-
board side. Quietly, almost invisibly, they
turn the mammoth hulk, against which they
themselves look to be little more than futile
toys; turn her until she faces her berth.

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THE BIGGEST STEAMSHIP AFLOAT

And then, perhaps, the engines throb again,
a few quick inhalations; and softly, as a
tired child slips between the covers at night,
the ship glides to her moorings.

Improved to the last degree as is the
*'Oceanic's" machinery, it still will not
operate itself. To attend to all the various
activities that go on aboard, and to attend to
the wants of 1,500 or more passengers,
requires a crew of nearly half a thousand
men. Of this number not more than sixty
ara classed as sailors, and their work in-
cludes little that we have been taught to
associate with Jack Tar. There is still the
duty of standing watch; there is still the
boat-drill and the fire-drilland the Sunday
review. Aside from these few cherished
survivals, the sailor on board the biggest
steamship spends his time chiefly in scrub-
bing decks, in handling cargo, and in work-
ing the auxiliary machinery. His lot is
not without honor, but his old glory has de-
parted. As the men behind the big guns
are the important factor in the modem naval
battle, so the important factor in the naviga-
tion of the great ship is the men behind the
engines.

On the ** Oceanic *' the engineer's depart-
ment includes close upon 200 men. Of these,
the larger body are the firemen, consisting
of what are called stokers and trimmers.
The work of a trimmer is to bring coal from
the bunkers and deposit it at the furnace
door. On shipboard the space allotted to
coal is that which is not available for other
purposes. As a consequence, the coal may
be at a considerable distance from the fur-
naces. To move the 500 tons consumed each
day by the *' Oceanic '* requires the constant
labor of twenty-five men working, as do the
whole engme-room force, in eight-hour shifts.
Then, to serve the coal to the ninety-six fur-
naces occupies thirty men, two to each boiler.
Elach man handles twelve tons of coal during
the time he is on duty. This, with the work
of making the fires and keeping them at top
heat, constitutes the most arduous labor that
man performs anywhere on or within the
earth or on or under the waters that cover it.
A third class of engine-room workers is
the greasers, thirty-five in number. Their
work is described in their name. They go
about their tasks shining with oil and armed
with big haridfuls of cotton waste.

Numerically, the largest of the three de-
partments into which the operation of the
biggest steamship is divided is the one em-
ployed in looking after the wants of passen-
gers. It is presided over by the purser, who.

with the chief steward, is directly at the head
of 200 men. This number includes nearly a
hundred dining-room stewards, half a hun-
dred bedroom stewards, nine stewardesses to
look after the wants of women passengers,
cooks, scullions, and galley employees of all
sorts, store-keepers, linen-keepers, and half
a dozen bootblacks.

The list of stores required for a single
voyage reads like the requisition sheet for an
army. Here are a few of the items, copied
from the order-book of the chief steward :
31,000 pounds of fresh meat (beef, mutton,
and lamb), 2,000 head of chickens and ducks,
1,000 hesid of game (varied according to sea-
son), 25 tons of potatoes — tons, mind you ! —
150 barrels of flour, 6,(XX) pounds of ham and
bacon, 10, (XX) eggs, 6,4(X) pounds of sugar.

These seem immense quantities ; but they
are, in most of the items named, the supplies
for a single voyage, and this at a. season of
the year when travel is not at its height.
With such things as fresh meat, poultry,
game, eggs, and potatoes it is not practica-
ble to stock for more than one voyage ; but
of salt meats, flour, and such supplies an
overplus is carried, to guard against want
in case the ship should be delayed. In the
ordinary way, it is as certain as human in-
genuity can make it that the '* Oceanic's"
voyage will end on the sixth day after it be-
gan ; but on any voyage she could remain at
sea for twenty-five days before an actual
famine would begin.

In the old days it was customary to carry
along a*number of cows' to' supply the pas-
sengers with fresh milk. To supply the
** Oceanic " with dairy products in this way,
at least with any such abundance as now
prevails, would be to turn her into a cattle-
ship. Her cold storage compartments con-
tain, at the beginning of each voyage, 3, (XX)
quarts of milk and cream, 5,000 pounds of
butter, and 3, (XX) pounds of ice-cream.

No less than twenty meals are served each
day on the ** Oceanic." There are three
full meals -breakfast, luncheon, and din-
ner— for the first cabin, for the second
cabin, for the steerage, for the officers,
and for the crew. In addition to these, the
first and second cabin folk have bouillon in
the morning, tea in the afternoon, and sup-
per at night, if they care to impose so great
a strain upon their stomachs. The first step
in the preparation of a day's bill of fare is
taken in the afternoon, when the chief stew-
ard retires to his cabin and makes out the
menu for the following day for each of his
numerous families. These are handed to the

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SERVING TWENTY MEALS A DAY,

ship's printer, who prints the menu cards on
a little hand-press. Then each of the chief
cooks receives a copy, and makes oat a list
of the supplies that he will require for his
own department. This list is submitted to
the chief steward, and after he has approved

the cooking is done weighs seventeen tons,
and it is only one of many pieces of kitchen
furniture. There is a special oven for bak-
ing bread, kept always at a certain tempera-
ture. There is a special compartment in
which joints are roasted, and where the spits

TAKING ON A SUPPLY OF FOOD FOR A TRANS- ATLANTIC VOYAGE.
Gange of men work day and night to get on l)oard the hundreds of tons of supplier required for a voyage.

it, it is valid as an order upon the store-
keepers for the indicated amounts of the
articles named in it.

Each chief cook has a little workshop to
himself and a corps of assistants. The gal-
leys in which their concoctions are prepared
for the table are fitted out as completely as
any kitchens in the world. In the main gal-
ley, the range upon which a large part of

are kept constantly and evenly revolving by a
special electric motor. There is a separate
compartment for cooking vegetables; and
there is a device for boiling eggs by which
the eggs, after remaining in the water just
the desired length of time, are brought auto-
matically to the surface. The soup is pre-
pared in three great caldrons, each of a
capacity of thirty gallons. On all of the

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THE BIGGEST STEAMSHIP AFLOAT,

cooking appliances are sure devices for regu-
lating the heat and keeping it constant, so
that it is next to impossible, except through
sheer inattention, to either over-cook or un-
der-cook.

To serve so many meals a day to so many
people naturally requires an immense num-
ber of dishes. There are 2,500 of each of
the several varieties of plates, cups, and
saucers most in use on the ** Oceanic '' ; and
of silver knives, forks, and spoons there are
1,500 each. In the cours6 of a voyage about
3,000 pieces of china are broken. The wash-
ing of so many dishes is, of itself, a consider-
able business. For the most part it is done
by machinery. Large baskets full of the
heavier dishes are lowered into tanks of boil-,
ing water, which cleanses them thoroughly.
But they are all wiped by hand ; and the sil-
ver and the more fragile china are washed
by hand, a task that keeps fifteen men busy
through the entire day.

The **Oceanic's" laundry-bag accumulates
60,000 pieces in the course of a voyage. The
laundry work js not done on board ; on the
ship^s arrival at Liverpool, the pieces are
sent to the company's general laundry there
— a large establishment in which a force jof
eighty-five . washer^women and seamstresses
are kept busy in washing arid keeping in
repair the linen of all the ships in the com-
pany's fleet.

The whole work of the steamship and her
crew is ordered by a system of discipline
military in its exactitude. The record of
each man is kept from the time he enters
the company's employ, and all promotion is
on the basis of service. The heads of the
various departments win their places only by
service in the ranks. Under this system an
esprit de corps prevails which is seldom found
among the employees of purely commercial
concerns. To promote discipline, as well as
to increase efficiency, there is a daily drill ;
and twice each day the ship and the ship's
crew undergo a thorough inspection. The
morning inspection is the more elaborate,
and is conducted by the commander, the
purser, the surgeon, and the chief steward.
Promptly at half-past ten the ship's bugler
sounds the "Three G's." At the signal
every man of the crew, except the members
of the engine-room force, who are never
taken away from their particular work, moves
to an appointed post. The water-tight doors
throughout the ship are closed within twenty
seconds, and the men stand by silent and at
attention. As the officers approach each
post, the men salute, throw open the doors,

and stand by until the inspection of that di-
vision is completed. They then resume their
ordinary duties. The inspection is no mere
formality or ceremony. The officers look
into every passage-way, room, and compart-
ment. First cabin, second cabin, steerage,
forecastle, galley, store-rooms — every por-
tion of the ship from promenade deck to the
hold itself is carefully examined, and it goes
hard with any man whose quarters are not
in perfect order, or who has left so much as
a soiled napkin lying out of place. It is a
further indication of the inamensity of the
** Oceanic " that two hours of rapid walking
are required to complete the inspection. At
half-past nine in the evening the purser and
the chief steward make the same rounds
again. This thorough oversight and con-
stant supervision secures scrupulous cleanli-
ness and order throughout the great ship,
of which the best evidence is, perhaps, the
fact that the passenger seldom gives the
matter a thought.

It will be imagined that the operation of
a vessel such as this, and the maintenance
of such an army of employees, is a matter of
no little cost. The men themselves are not
highly paid. The stokers, who do the hard-
est work, receive $25 a month. Trimmers
and greasers get $22.50, and the sailors are
paid about the same. The stewards, who
have valuable perquisites in the form of tips
from passengers, receive from $15 to $20.
The officers are paid by the month, and re-
ceive salaries a little larger than those of
naval men of equal rank. In comparing
these wages with those of land labor, it is
to be borne in mind that the men also have
their board and lodging. Even at such seem-
ingly modest rates, the salary bill of the
** Oceanic" is not less than $10,000 a
month— that is, for each round trip. Her
daily coal bill is about $1,600 a day at sea.
For food and other items of outfitting there
is paid out three-quarters of a million dollars
every year. The cost of overhauling the
ship in preparation for each voyage is not
less than $1,000. Each round trip repre-
sents a complete business transaction. By
the English law, the members of a ship's
crew must be paid off within twenty-four
hours of the vessel's return to her home
port, and must sign new articles for each
voyage. Similarly, all accounts of passenger
and freight receipts, and expenditures for
wages, supplies, and repairs, are balanced at
the end of every completed voyage.

The maximum earning capacity of the big-
gest steamship is about $90,000 a month.

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THE COST AND EARNINGS OF THE BIGGEST STEAMSHIP.

But the period of high tide in ocean travel
— and it is only during this period that she
can earn so much — lasts rather less than one-
third of the year. Considering this fact,
and taking into account the cost of opera-
tion, repairs, and insurance, and the deteri-
oration in value of the ship itself, it will be
seen that the income from the greatest of
ocean vessels is no more than an ordinary
return on the investment of $4,500,000 which
she represents.

*' All this wealth of skiH and money,"
says the penny-wise observer, ** lavished
in order that a few persons may be carried
across 3,000 miles of ocean in the greatest

possible comfort and luxury!" But there
is a larger view. The ''Oceanic" carries
man's subjection of the ocean to his daily
business and use one degree farther ; he has
it now just so much the more under his sure
control. And in the necessary affairs and
things of life, as well as in its luxuries and
pastimes, it means much if a man embark-
ing at New York can make an engagement
in London for the sixth day thereafter and
be certain of keeping that engagement.
Indeed, in the final import, it means a
closer union of the Old World and the New,
a step toward the realization of that fond
dream — the final brotherhood of all mankind.

ON THE BRIDGE— FORTY FEET ABOVE WATER.

When the hig ship is in the delicate operation of entering or leaving a crowded harbor, the scene on the bridge is wonder-
fully Impreesive. Only the captain, the pilot, and one or two junior oflicers are there, and hardly a word is said or a gesture
made. Almost the only sound is the occasional sharp clink of the instruments that communicate with the various parts of
tlie ship. In this quiet way the movements of the ship, in spite of her ^,000 tons, are directed with the utmost accuracy.

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A iv^ind ian Wot ber Soncr

toy WiMis lrwir>

j^ooooL

^^^^'^^

Sleep, Uttle Love Flower, sleep; the Dhy Chief ffoes to rest —
The watcb-/ir€ bl^es brightly by his wiawAm in the west.

Sleep, little Love Flower, sleep.
The Nicht Chie^ cometb out the east, with spirit warriors in bis train;
Their plumes are black above the hills, their shndows ^all across the plain;
Their purple arrows vein the air, the sha/'ts around us thickly fly^
They come, and lo, the council /ires are lighted in the sky.

Sleep, little Love Flower, sleep.
Sweet be tb^ sleep, and sound, on slumbers happy huntinGTcf round.

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THE GOVERNOR'S REHEARSAL.

By Charles Warren,

Author of " A Manafacturcr of History," and other etoriee.

A STORY OF PUBLIC LIFE.

f ARK SPENNER had made up
his mind to kill the Gover-
nor. That was the reason
why Mark Spenner had been
crouching for nearly two
hours, in the dark, in the
farthest corner of a seldom used rubbish
closet leading from the private secretary's
office. He had come up that afternoon to
the State House from Belltown for this ex-
press purpose.

About four o'clock he had entered the pri-
vate secretary's room, and had been assigned
his seat at the foot of a line of chairs filled
with impatient visitors awaiting their turn.
The private secretary had looked at him
searchingly, struck with the old man's wild-
ness of eye and intensity of speech. One
by one the men ahead of Spenner saw, with

a sigh of relief, the door into the Governor's
room open, and the visitor hurry out looking
happy, disappointed, angry, or puzzled, ac-
cording to the degree of success in his mis-
sion. One by one the line lessened; and
Spenner nerved himself for the coming test.
Suddenly a tall, sturdy figure appeared at
the door. It was the Governor himself. He
bowed to the waiting men, and, crossing the
room with a vigorous step, he stood talking
in an undertone to the private secretary, not
six feet away from the last man in the line.
Mark Spenner's breath came quick, and the
blood rose in his head. He felt behind un-
der his coat, where his hip-pocket was dis-
tended in a knobby lump. As he made th&
motion, the Governor happened to glance at
him, and nodded courteously, as if to an old
acquaintance. Spenner withdrew his hand,

' IN ONE DART MARK SPENNER HAD REACHED THE CLOSET DOOR, FLASHED BEHLND IT .
AND CROUCHED ... IN THE DARKNESS.**

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A STORY OF PUBLIC LIFE.

and sat hesitating. Just then he caught
the last words that the Governor was say-
ing to his secretary, and he trembled with ex-
citement. '* Mr. Porter, you and the clerks
need not wait after five o'clock to-night. I
shall see no one after then, and every one
may leave. I am going to DoUiver to-night to
declare my position on this strike question,
and I want to stay here until half-past six
to finish writing out my speech."

to his stenographer, who sat at the end of
the room, to go to the outer corridor and
answer the telephone. Then the door to
the Governor's room opened again, a man
emerged, and the private secretary went in to
announce to the Governor the next visitor.
Now was the time, thought Spenner. No
one was in the room except the two men still
ahead of him in line, waiting their turn. He
glanced slyly and rapidly at them. One was

THE TROOPS HAD FIRED

AND NOW ELEVEN MEN LAY DEAD IN BELLTOWN/

As he heard these words Mark Spenner
suddenly changed his plan . He would not kill
the Governor now, suddenly, publicly. He
would wait until after five o'clock, when the
State House would be quiet, and then he
could kill him easily and peaceably.

He looked around the room. At the
lower end he perceived a door partially
open. He rose, and walked down toward it.
No one noticed him. The door led into a
deep closet. He stood looking out of the
window near it. Outside it was growing
dark. He heard the private secretary call

reading his newspaper ; the other was look-
ing eagerly at the half-open door in which
appeared the private secretary's back. In
one dart Mark Spenner had reached the closet
door, flashed behind it into the closet, and
crouched in the farthest comer in the dark-
ness. No sound had been made. One mo-
ment he had been outside, waiting impa-
tiently like any other visitor. The next mo-
ment he was gone.

The private secretary showed the first
man in to the (jovemor, and came back to his
desk. The stenographer returned from the

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THE GOVERNOR'S REHEARSAL,

telephone. The man with the newspaper still
sat waiting. On the sorface, that was all.
It came the newspaper reader's turn. The
private secretary looked for the pale, wild-
eyed man with the rumpled hair ; but did not
see him . * * Where is that other man, Jim ? ' '
he asked of the stenographer.

**I don't know," said Jim. **He must
have got tired waiting and gone out. I
didn't notice."

' ' The Governor'll be glad of that. There's
been a perfect procession of callers this after-
noon. Tell them outside to admit no one
else. It's a quarter of five, and I'm going
home."

** I've got about twenty minutes' dictation
to write out," said Jim. ** Good-night."

Mark Spenner waited, trembling, to see
if any one would come to the closet. No
one did. He heard Mr. Porter leave. The
tjrpewriter clicked uninterruptedly, and then
stopped. The stenographer left. A cab
rattled by outside. 'Hie clerks in the outer
corridor chatted a few minutes. There came
a sound of doors shutting with a click and of
keys turning in the locks. The sound of
st^ps grew fainter. Then all was very quiet.

After a time he heard some one come into
the room humming a tune. It was the Gov-
ernor. The steps approached the closet
door. Mark Spenner shook, and breathed
hard. The steps went away. Then he
heard the door of the Governor's room close,
and it was very quiet again outside. And
Mark Spenn^ crouched in the closet, deter-
mined to kill the Governor and knowing that
his time had come.

The facts which had led Mark Spenner to
that decision are part of the well-known his-
tory of the tragic political State campaign
of that year.

Although the Governor had received a sec-
ond renomination in the State Convention
three weeks before, his party managers did not
underestimate the strength of his opponent,
Charles Fondridge; and they realized that
the campaign was to be so close that the re-
sult might hinge on the slightest change
of votes. So it happened that a brief tele-
gram brought into the midst of a meeting
of the Executive Committee of the State
Committee ten days ago had produced an
excited change in their plans, and spread a
look of cheer around the committee room.
The telegram was from the chairman of the
City Committee in Bell town, and read, *' In-
ternational Mills employees voted this noon
to strike."

Bell town was a large manufacturing city
that had always cast a heavy vote against
the Governor's party. For some months
there had been a more or less active strug-
gle going on there between the directors of
the International Mills and their 3,000 em-
ployees. The causes of the struggle havet
nothing to do with this history. No one had '
believed, however, that there would be any
open outbreak. Indeed, Fondridge's politi-
cal managers had been most active in appeal-
ing to the directors and to Jerome Barton,
the president of the company, to yield. Bar-
ton had, in fact> been a former treasurer of
the party's State Committee. Hence he
was so closely connected with the party, that
a strike in his mills would inevitably become
a political issue ; and real live State issues
were the last thing that the managers wanted
in this so-called ** national " campaign.

The news that the strike had come caused,
therefore, a corresponding depression in the
party ranks of the Governor's opponent. The
recusant president and directors of the In-
ternational Mills were called all manner of
names, and every argument was employed
upon them to bring about a settlement of the
strike. But as President Barton said to the
committee that waited on him, *' Why, gen-
tlemen, we're not running these mills for our
health or for politics. We're running them
to make money for the stockholders. • Per-
sonally, Fd like nothing better than to see
Charley Fondridge governor. I'll make you
a campaign subscription myself of $5,000,
and you can have my personal check when
you want it; but what you're asking me
to do is impossible. You are practically
asking the stockholders of this corpora-
tion to make you a campaign subscription
out of their profits, not of $5,000, but more
nearly of $500,000; for that is what this
strike, unless successful on our side, would
mean to us."

The committee returned to headquarters
discouraged.

Meanwhile others were becoming discour-
aged. The fathers of four or five young
children, with small credit at the stores and
no deposits in the savings-banks and little
food in the house; the children who had
earned enough to help support the rest of
the family ; the young men and young women
who had hoped to be married soon— they,
too, were beginning to grumble, down in the
streets of Belltown. When all went well
and they were working hard, they had no
time to think about politics ; and they bad
voted — those who had a vote — almost instinc-

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*THE governor's WHOLE FRAME SEEMED IN MOTION WITH THE INTENSITY OF HIS WORDS."

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THE GOVERNOR'S REHEARSAL,

lively according to habit, tradition, or their
father's vote. Now they had time to think
for themselves, and they were asking each
other whether they had not been deceived ;
whether the party to which such a hard-
hearted monster as President Barton be-
longed could possibly be the party for which
the workingman should vote. And while
these questions were flying round, the Gov-
ernor's party managers, who had hoped for
this situation, sent down into the midst of
the rising dissatisfaction thousands of cam-
paign documents.

Then, one night, the rumor came that the
mills were to start up the next day with
** scab " labor. Men clustered, pale and ex-
cited, on the street corners. Women grew
terrified, and tried to keep their sons and
their husbands at home, foreseeing that
trouble was coming. The non-union men ar-
rived the next day, and in less than an hour
large bodies of strikers were gathered along
the road leading to the mills and around the
gates. There was no violence as yet ; but
there were hjirdly suppressed oaths and sav-
age looks and searches of the pawn shops for
revolvers. During the next day regular pro-
cessions of strikers carrsring banners paraded

up and down the road past the mill grounds,
which stretched along for nearly a mile in the
open country outside the city proper. As
the non-union men went into the gates they
were greeted with every kind of threat and
hard name, but no one was molested physi-
cally by the strikers.

The outburst was precipitated before its
time by the careless act of a small boy
who, more in fun than anything else, threw
a stone at a window in a shed on the mill
grounds. As the glass broke, suddenly the
air was thick with stones, bricks, sticks,
and iron bolts. The next morning the
police were lined up along the road run-
ning by the mills. A non-union man was
pulled from their hands, and disappeared
through the crowd yelling for help. That
night the news spread over the city that the
directors of the mills had obtained an injunc-
tion against Matthew Spenner, James Coiilon,
Peter Lachaude, and fifteen others, active
union men. At the meeting of the union,'
the injunction was brought in and read. It
restrained them *' and their agents and ser-
vants or any person in connection, associa-
tion, or combination with them " from ** in-
terfering with the management and operation •

* IT WAS THE PINAL SCENE IN THE BKLLTOWN TRAGEDY.'

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A STORY OF PUBLIC LIFE.

of said mills by their owners or those oper-
ating them, either by menaces, threats, force,
or any character of intimidation used to pre-
vent the employees of said mills from going
to, or from, or working in, said mills."
And, further, *' the defendants " were ** re-
strained from entering upon the property of
the owners of the International Mills (Cor-
poration, or assembling in the roads leading
to and upon said property, for the purpose
of interfering with the employees of said
corporation either by threats, menaces, or
violence."

Head and front of all in wild oratory against
the courts was young ''Mat" Spenner.
** We're enjoined off the face of the earth ! "
he shouted. *' We must resist or lose all our
liberties! Haven't we a right to walk on
the streets as well as those bloated monopo-
lists?"

Along toward the early dawn, after an
excited debate, it was determined that the
arrest of Spenner, Lachaude, and their fel-
low-martyrs must be prevented.

Meanwhile, that same evening, there was
discouragement and cursing at Fondridge's
State headquarters when the news came that
Bj/ton had secured an injunction. ** This
caps the climax," said the secretary of the
committee. ** We might have made a fair
showing on the strike question ; but if they
are going to be allowed to bring up the in-
junction issue, it knocks Fondridge's cam-
paign completely."

** I see they've persuaded the Governor to
go on the stump at last, too," said the chair-
man of the Executive Committee. '* He's
billed for a speech on this labor business
down at Dolliver on Saturday, and I suppose
that from now until then he'll be gather-
ing hot shot for us."

"It was hot enough for us last year,"
said the secretary. ** Rollins, what do you
think about this wretched mess Barton has
got us into with his injunction ? "

Rollins, the corpulent, shrewd-faced chair-
man of the State Committee, had been sitting
for some time silently rubbing the scowls
from his forehead. '* I think," he said,
" that the Governor maybe in a tighter hole
next Saturday than we are now."

* * That sounds well. What does it mean ? ' '
asked the treasurer.

** Did it ever occur to you," Rollins re-
plied, *' that the Governor might be called
upon to order out the troops? And if he did
send the troops ; if any — well, we'll say any
— accident happened, would that help him
with the Belltown voters ? "

The secretary whistled. '* Not so bad,
not so bad, Rollins. There may be some-
thing in that for us."

On Tuesday night Rollins's prophecy was
fulfilled. Spenner and his comrades, against
the protests of the soberer and wiser men in
the union, put into operation their plan of
defiance of the injunction, and its enforce-
ment was openly resisted. The sheriff and
his posse and the police were unable to take
possession of the violators. They were driven
back with torn clothes, bruises, and even
with serious wounds. Several non-union men
also were wounded by missiles, and danger-
ous bonfires were built in lots adjoining the
mills. The sheriff was obliged to read the
riot act. Finally the mayor of the city, vig-
orously urged by President Barton to call on
the Governor for troops, decided not to wait
any longer. A delay of a few hours might
mean the destruction of the mills. Then,
too, the Mayor was not of the Governor's
political persuasion, and he was not at all
sorry that some part of the responsibility for
the condition of affairs should be shifted
to the Governor's shoulders.

On Wednesday morning, the (Jovernor re-
ceived the Mayor's telegram asking for the
aid of the militia to put down the growing
riot. He was not a man who hesitated when
he saw his duty plain before him. But this
was too serious a matter to decide at once
without fullest knowledge of the facts. Two
members of his staff and the Adjutant-Gen-
eral of the State were sent immediately to
Belltown, and meanwhile the Governor sum-
moned his campaign committee. A sight of
their faces, when they were told the news,
would have made Rollins and Fondridge laugh
in glee.

* But, Governor," said the chairman, '* you
can't think of ordering out the troops !
This is all a political game of the other
side. Things aren't so serious as all that
down at Belltown. Rollins is trying to put
you in a hole," he continued, unconsciously
using Rollins's own words. '* It will be the
worst and most unpopular thing you could
possibly do," he added.

'* That isn't the question," said the Gov-
ernor. ' '*The only question is, is it really
necessary ? I don't choose to play into Fon-
dridge's hands. But, much as I am in sjrm-
pathy with the cause of the strikers, the
mills shall have the protection that the law
gives them. If the troops are needed at
Belltown, the troops shall go there."

" But hold on. Governor," said Jim Blakely,
the editor ; * ' here it is Wednesday. Election

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THE GOVERNOR'S REHEARSAL.

comes next Tuesday. I don't believe there's
such a terrible rush about this. If, after
Tuesday, Barton needs any soldiers to help
run his mills, why let him have all he wants.
But, Governor, don't be fool enough to
throw away your election until it's really
necessary!"

" What can you say at Dolliver Saturday
night if the troops should — should — should
make any trouble ? " groaned the chairman.

The Adjutant-General returned, and re-
ported that violence was increasing in Bell-
town and that protection was needed at
once. In two hours a part of the Seven-
teenth Regiment of the National Guard was
on its way thither. The State Committee
waited for the news from that city, discour-
aged and fearful.

The news came late that very afternoon.
The strikers, led by the very men against
I whom the injunction had been issued, had
attacked the troops. The troops had fired,
first into the air, but on the second volley
into the mob. And now eleven men lay dead
in Belltown and twenty-four wounded.

Old Mark Spenner and his daughter, Mary
Spenner, lived not far from Central Avenue.
Toward dark they had heard the ominous rat-
tling crash echo down the street, and had
seen fche smoke rise above the low houses op-
posite. And then in less than half an hour
an ambulance came rumbling round the cor-
ner, followed by a confused group of men.
As old Mark Spenner went to meet them, they
were lifting out a dark mass. Terrified at
their sullen looks, he called out, ** It isn't
Mat. It isn' t my Mat. ' ' They nodded ; and
then Mark Spenner did not know for hours
what was taking place about him . His Mat —
his one boy, whom he had trained to take
his place in the mills — ^whom he had seen go
out that very morning, young and vigorous!
It was not possible. And yet there in the
front room lay something that had been, but
was not any longer, Matthew Spenner; and
outside in the city of Belltown men in blue
uniforms were tramping slowly up and down;
the streets were half deserted, and lights
shone in the mill windows, showing that the
International Mills were working overtime to
make up for lost work.

Prom that moment Mark Spenner began to
form his project. For two days he thought
of nothing else, until he felt as if all his
blood was collecting in his head. His brain
seemed to be bursting as this one refrain
beat against it: *' Who killed my son?
The soldiers. Who sent the soldiers ? The
Governor." There was no question in Mark

Spenner' s mind as to the justification for the
Governor's act. Very likely the strikers, his
son even, may have been wrong. But the
fact still remained, his son lay dead, and the
Governor had killed him. Therefore he,
Mark Spenner, must kill the Governor.

The Governor sat writing intently on his
Dolliver speech. Every now and then he
rose, and walking toward the window, leaned
his head against the cool pane. Once he
wandered restlessly into the private secre-
tary's room, humming. Since Wednesday
night he had been living under great pres-
sure. The deep lines in his face and the tired
black look around his eyes showed how heav-
ily the responsibility for the Belltown tragedy
was weighing on him. It was only the inner
sense of complete justification for his share
in that event that kept him from flinching
before the torrents of abuse and denuncia-
tion which had ensued after the terrible re-
sults of Wednesday night. The pendulum
had swung violently ; and those workingmen
who had forsaken Fondridge because of the
strike were now flocking back, enraged at
the Governor's action, which they regarded
as treachery. So it was that his speech ^t
Dolliver, instead of being an attack on Fon-
dridge and his party for their position on the
labor question, must now be a defense of his
own action ; and the Governor realized that
it must be an all-powerful and all-convincing
defense if he was to make good, in the three
days which remained before election, the loss
of the votes of those workingmen who now
entirely misunderstood his position.

It had been with the greatest sense of re-
lief that he had watched the last visitor leave
and had heard his private secretary give or-
ders to admit no one else. He had listened
to the steps of the departing clerks as the
sound died away down the corridor. Then,
left to himself in the quiet of the empty State
House, he had set himself to embody in his
fateful speech all the eloquence, the passion,
and the clear-cut reasoning which had so
often before made friends for him out of his
ardent foes.

It was after six o'clock when the Governor
drew in a long breath, pushed his manuscript
away from him, and, clasping his hands be-
hind his head, tipped wearily back in his
chair. His speech was finished at last, and
he felt very well content with it, for he knew
that it was as true and real and sincere a
thing as he had ever written. But how
would it strike home to the workingmen of
Dolliver and of the State ? That was the

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A STORY OF PUBLIC LIFE,

question which could not be answered, per-
haps, until their votes had been counted.
The Gk>vemor almost wished that he had not
let his private secretary go home. He should
like to know how the words he had just writ-
ten would impress some one else.

He leaned forward again, and, taking up
his manuscript, began to read it carefully
over. So intent was he that he did not no-
tice the door to the Executive Chamber open
very slowly and silently, and close just as
slowly and silently. Nor did he see a figure
slip cautiously into the room and creep to-
ward him. In reaching forward for his pen
to make a correction in his speech the Gov-
ernor looked up. Directly before the flat,
square desk stood an elderly man, with a
pale face and rumpled hair, holding a re-
volver pointed straight at the (Jovemor's
head, 'in a flash he recognized the peril in
which he was placed ; for, like all governors,
he had had many an experience with insane
persons. They were always drawn like a mag-
net toward the head of the State, whom they
considered the head of all their troubles. He
looked very calmly at the man, and replaced
very deliberately his manuscript upon his
desk. *' Well, my friend," he said, '* what
is your name, and what can I do for you ? j

Mark Spenner still felt the blood flooding
up into his head, and it was with difficulty
that he could control himself, as he shouted,
" I am Mark Spenner, and Tve come to kill
you."

The Governor's face became somewhat pale
and rigid, yet his mouth broke slightly into a
suave smile. He knew that the only way to
deal with an insane man was to humor him.
•* Very well, my friend; but will you not tell
me why you want to kill me ? "

Mark Spenner had not expected this kind
of reception, yet he did not lose sight of his
prey for a moment. ** Because you murdered
my son; because you sent the soldiers to
Bell town to murder my son, Mat Spenner."

The Governor gave a little breathless gasp.
He had caught his cue, for he remembered
the name and its connection with the Bell-
town tragedy. **Let me see; you accuse
me of murdering your son. And you think,
therefore, that you should condemn me to
death instead of having me tried by the
courts. Very well, we won't discuss that.
You may be right."

As his lips uttered these words, the Gov-
ernor's brain was considering more things in
a short flash of time than had ever driven
through it before. Could he reach the side of
the room where the electric bell was placed.

connecting his room with the watchman's
office ? Could he, in some way, get at his
desk telephone ? Could he make a sudden
dash for the door or for the window ? Could
he overpower the aged but burly man hold-
ing the weapon ? While swiftly running over
these possibilities in his mind he glanced down
at his desk, and noticed in a hazy kind of way
the speech in which he had been so enwrapped.
Suddenly, like a cool northwest wind driving
the heat and fog before it, an idea came to
him. Now was the moment for the supreme
test of his powers of eloquence and persua-
sion. A few minutes before he had supposed
that it was to be later in the evening, at
Dolliver. He saw, however, that the time
was now, and more than that, if not now,
then probably never again in this life.

"I will agree, Mark Spenner," he said,
** that you shall be my judge and my jury;
but you will surely grant me what is allowed
to the vilest, lowest murderer or thief. I
suppose you have served on a jury some time
in your life ? " He looked inquiringly at Spen-
ner, and the latter nodded. " Well, then,
you must know that before a poor fellow is
condemned to imprisonment or — to death, if
it must be so, the judge always gives him
a chance to say a word for himself. I ask
you, therefore, to hear what I have to say for
myself before you execute me. This you
owe me as one man to another. I don't ask
it because I am a governor, but because I
am — or, rather, because you say I am — a
murderer."

Spenner's eye glittered. *' Go on," he
said roughly; **but cut it short. You've
got to die whatever you say."

The Gk>vemor arose, and straightened his
tall body to its most commanding height.
''Don't you move; sit down!" said Spen-
ner, advancing his revolver.

The Gk>vemor smiled, and remained stand-
ing. ** Don't you remember what the judge
says, ' Prisoner, stand up. Have you any-
thing to say why sentence of death should
not be pronounced according to law ? ' You
remember that, don't you ? "

Again Spenner nodded in a dazed fashion,
evidently not understanding the Governor's
tactics.

Then the Governor began in almost the
same words which he had intended for his
Dolliver audience, at first very quietly, but
becoming more and more powerful in his ap-
peal. He showed how he had been in sym-
pathy with the strikers and their cause at
the beginning. He indignantly denied the
accusations made against him— that he was

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THE GOVERNOR'S REHEARSAL.

out of sympathy with the working classes.
Then he went on to describe the causes of
the Belltown strike.

** Had I had the right and power, I would
rather have driven this great corporation —
this International Mills Company — out of the
confines of this State, than to have had one
employee treated as unjustly as I believe the
company in its demands did treat them. I
would rather that this splendid commonwealth
of ours should have lost every cent of the
taxes which that corporation pays, than that
one cent should have been stricken from the
wages of one of its workingmen. Yet, that
is not the question. I had no legal right or
power in the matter. I could not compel
the International Mills Company to pay just
wages. I could not prevent them from en-
forcing unjust rules so long as they kept
within the law as laid down by the courts.
You and I know that every man can con-
duct his business mildly or harshly, as he
pleases, if he does not break the law laid
down by the courts or the law made by the
Legislature.''

The Governor went on to point out what
rights the law gave to the mill-owner.

*' Now what does the law permit to you or
me or any one else, union or non-union man,
who seeks work ? It says, * You may seek
work or quit work wherever and whenever
you please, provided you don't break any ex-
isting contract. You may persuade any other
person to quit work, if you don't try to make
him break his contract out of pure malice.'
On the other side, what does the law forbid
you to do ? It forbids you to try to keep the
bread out of another's mouth by the use
of force or threats against him or his em-
ployer. I am in favor of organized labor.
So is the law. Yet I cannot but recognize,
and you must recognize, that a non-union man
is a human being. He is an American citi-
zen, free and equal. He is entitled to
earn his living in peace. He has sons and
daughters and a wife, as you or any of us
may have."

Spenner, who had been standing stifl9y and
grimly silent, broke in upon the Governor's
appeal. '' I have no son. Cut your talk
short. I cannot wait any longer."

The Governor looked into the mouth of
the barrel of the revolver without a tremor.
** I say the non-union man has the same
rights that you or I have, and one of those
rights, the law says, is to try to get work
from any man he pleases, and when it is ob-
tained, to continue to work with his life safe
and free from the fear of threats or violence

or intimidation used by men trying to throw
him out of his job. And since the law gives
him that right, the State must protect that
right for him."

Then the Governor, gazing straight into
Spenner's eyes, explained in simple and elo-
quent language how one of the ways of en-
forcing this right to protection was the thing
of which the very name was odious to the
laboring man — an injunction. He showed
how the workingmen's hatred of injunctions
came largely from their ignorance as to what
they were and what they restrained.

** Do you realize how important for the
protection of each one of you is this same
power of the courts to issue injunctions ?
Suppose a powerful railroad or telephone com-
pany attempts to encroach on your little,
hard-earned piece of land ; how can you stop
it ? Go to any judge, and you will, and can,
obtain this hated injunction. Suppose with
great difficulty you pay a few dollars taxes,
and you see the city's money wasted and
stolen by corrupt officials, and your tax-rate
going up and up ; how can you stop it ? Go
to the judge whom you have just called an
' ally of entrenched wealth, ' and you will have
given you this thing * oppressive of labor
and of the poor man ' — this injunction. Sup-
pose you are working for a railroad which
carries mails and goods from State to State,
and which seeks to discharge you and your
fellow-men because certain other men will
network for the railroad unless you are dis-
charged. Go to that very abused and de-
spised judge of the United States Court, and
he will issue in your favor an order which
you call * government by injunction.' "

Then the Governor explained exactly what
the Belltown injunction did. It restrained
from trespassing, and from interfering with
others by force or by threats — that was
aU.

'* All this injunction does is to try to keep
you from breaking the law of this State.
Now I don't say that 1 agree with the law.
It makes no difference to you whether I agree
or not with it. All I am Governor for is to
enforce the law. I cannot make it, no mat-
ter how much I desire to. I cannot change
it if I will. The constitution of this State —
the great binding force on all of us— tells me
expressly what I can and what I cannot do.
It says" — the Governor rolled forth the
grand old language in a voice like the de^^p
roar of a cataract — ** ' In the government
of this commonwealth, the legislative depart-
ment shall never exercise the executive and
judicial powers or either of them ; the execu-

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A STORY OF PUBLIC LIFE,

tive shall never exercise the legislative and
jadicial powers or either of them.' If the
law is wrong and hard, it is for yon to change
it. Send your representatives to the legis-
lature. Make them pass a bill changing the
law ; and if the change is a proper one, Twill
sign it when they send it up to me.

*' But what would happen in this State if
its citizens could break the law simply be-
cause they felt it to be unjust ? Why, you
would not be safe for a minute. Your prop-
erty, your life, would be at the mercy of any
crank or evil-doer. Your wife, your children,
would not be safe " — Spenner gave an angry
murmur at the word ** children," but con-
tinued to listen intently, for the Governor
was not to be stopped. The Governor's
whole frame seemed in motion with the in-
tensity of his words ; and Spenner could not
keep his eyes away from the glowing face.
— ' * Would not be safe for a second. The law
must be obeyed until it is changed. And no
good or honest men can believe otherwise.'"

The Governor then described in the sad-
dest and most pitying voice what had hap-
pened at Bell town; how an appeal had been
made to send the troops, and how he had
taken extra precautions to be sure that they
were necessary. Spenner still listened, grow-
ing paler and paler. The Governor moved
to one side of his desk ; but Spenner made
no motion except to follow him with wildly
fixed eyes, and he seemed to be unaware of
anything. With arms flung out in a well-
known gesture, the Governor spoke on. He,
too, seemed almost to have forgotten where
he was or under what conditions he was
speaking. In tones of earnest conviction
and of tumultuous feeling, he spoke of the
tremendous struggle that had gone on in him,
between his horror at the results which might
follow his despatch of the troops and his sense
of duty and fealty to the people of the State.

*' I ask you, Mark Spenner, you yourself,
to answer me this. What would you do if
you had hired a servant, had entrusted him
with the care of your goods, your house,
your honor, your wife's honor and safety,
and that servant, hearing outside a party of
men trying to get in to rob and possibly to
kill, had let in these lawbreakers rather than
make himself unpopular with them ? And
then suppose that, besides merely trusting
him, you had made him solemnly swear to
protect you and yours, and he broke his oath,
what would you say, Mark Spenner, to that
servant ? Answer this ! And I know that
as you are an honest man, you can only
answer it oko way. Answer this, I say."

As the Governor flung these words at him,
he noticed that Spenner was growing nervous.
The hand that held the revolver shook a little,
while the muzzle of the revolver turned
slightly down toward the table. '* I am that
servant, hired and trusted. I took that oath
to protect you and yours, your neighbor and
his, the men and women of Belltown, the
men and women all over this State. I swore
solemnly to enforce the law of this State,
whether I believed in it or not, against any
man breaking that law. Standing in that
legislative hall, in the midst of hundreds of
men who represented your rights and in-
terests, I placed my left hand on the Holy
Bible, and, raising my right hand to heaven,
I said, ' I do solemnly swear that I will bear
true faith and allegiance to this common-
wealth, and that I will faithfully and impar-
tially discharge and perform all the duties
incumbent on me as Governor, agreeable to
the rules and regulations of the constitution
and the laws of this commonwealth, so help
me God.'

'* What is it you would have asked of me ?
Not to send the troops to Belltown ? But
the law said that it was my duty to do so.
The safety of tens of thousands depended on
my doing my duty. Would you have had
me do otherwise ? No, Mark Spenner, no.
You would have said to me, * My servant,
servant of my fellow-people, enforce the law
you swore before God and man to enforce.
The consequences of your act are not to rest
on you. The responsibility for what may
happen shall rest on none save upon all the
people of the State who made the law, of
whom you are the servant. Though some
may die, others will be saved. But you, per-
sonally, neither kill nor save. Whatever may
happen, you have no choice. You must not
be a scoundrel and a perjurer.' And so,
Mark Spenner, I say to you, even if I am to
be killed the next minute, so help me God,
I have done but my sworn duty."

The (Jovernor stopped very suddenly, throw-
ing his head back with a superb air. At the
same time he stepped closer to Spenner. The
latter appeared confused for a moment,
seemed to wish to speak, and faltered. Then
he began to recover his self-possession, and
the revolver rose once more. Before he had
time, however, to bring it up fully, the Gover-
nor, with a great leap, threw himself against
him, plunging to obtain hold of the weapon.
Spenner uttered an enraged yell, and fell back
against a low bookcase, with the Governor
almost upon him. A shot rang out, and a
drift of smoke clouded the air of the room.

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THE NEW PROSPERITY.

Something tumbled heavily to the floor, and
lay quite still. The smoke slowly floated
away from around where a man stood breath-
ing hard and quick. It was the final scene
in the Belltown tragedy.

When the watchmen, aroused by the shot,
came dashing up the stairs, down the outer
corridors, and through the door of the Ex-
ecutive Chamber, they found the Governor
leaning against the end of his desk and hold-
ing a revolver. Something black lay at his
feet, and there was a disagreeable, pungent
smell of powder in the air, while the lights
in the room seemed to be burning dimly.

** I have killed a man," the Governor said.
** Send for the police and an ambulance. Do
not let one word of this event be made pub-
lic to-night. Order a carriage for me at
once. I go to DoUiver at h^f-past seven.

No, I don't need any aid. I am not faint.
I shall be all right."

That night at DoUiver the Governor deliv-
ered his famous speech on the strike ques-
tion. People noticed that he looked very
white, and seemed sad and serious ; but never
had an audience in that State been so im-
pressed by the words of any man. It was
not until the next morning, when they read
their newspapers, that they learned how near
death had come to silencing those eloquent
lips and leaving the speech unpublished to the
world. No one knew even then, or for long
after, that the speech had been spoken once
already, before it was delivered to the voters
of DoUiver on that Saturday night. And it
is possible that it was due to poor old Mark
Spenner that the Governor was elected for
his third term.

^S 19.41

^J880^

Ineream in per capita circulation of money in the United Stat— from 1860 to IMO.

THE NEW PROSPERITY.

By Ray Stannard Baker.

A WESTERN writer, summing up the mar-
vels of growth, expansion, and pros-
perity of the year 1899 in the United States,
added : " And every barn in Kansas and Ne-
braska has had a new coat of paint."

For any one who knew the West of 1895
and 1896, with its bare, weather-stained
houses, its dilapidated barns, its farm ma-
chinery standing out in the rain, its ruinous
** boom " towns, its discontented inhabitants
crying out for legislation to relieve their dis-
tress, this bit of observation raises a picture
of improvement and smiling comfort such as
no array of figures, however convincing,
could produce. The West painted again:
how much that means ! The farmer has pro-
vided himself with food in plenty and the
means for seeding his fields for another
year ; he has clothed himself and his family
anew; he has bought an improved harvester,
a buggy, and a sewing-machine; and now,
with the deliberation which is bom of a sur-
plus and a sturdy confidence in himself and
in the future, he is painting his bam. Paint

signifies all of these preliminary comforts.
And after paint comes a new front porch,
a piano, and the boys off to college.

But the painting of the West is merely the
surface indication of fundamental changes in
the commercial and industrial conditions of
the United States that make the years 1898
and 1899 in many respects the most remark-
able in the history of the nation. It was in
1898 that the United States exceeded Great
Britain for the first time in the value of do-
mestic exports. In the following year — 1899
— the total foreign business of the United
States passed for the first time in our history
beyond $2,000,000,000, and the profits—
that is, the excess of exports over imports —
were nearly $476,000,000. In less than three
years — that is, between 1897 and 1900 — so
great were the trade balances in our favor
that over a billion dollars of American in-
debtedness was wiped from the ledgers of
Europe, and in 1899 we beheld the spectacle
of London buying money in New York with
which to conduct her South African war ; of

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SUDDENNESS OF THE REVIVAL— THE HARD TIMES PRECEDING. 87

the exportation of gold to Europe, not be-
cause the United States owed it, although
many American securities are still held
abroad, but because we could spare a little
of our plenty to relieve the financial stress
abroad.

Eighteen hundred and ninety-nine was a
year of extraordinary records also in the do-
mestic business of the United States, which
has long been of greater volume by millions
of dollars a year than
that of any other nation.
The bank clearings, one
of the surest indications
of the volume of the
country's business, were
billions of dollars greater
than they had ever been
before in the history of
the nation. In the five
years from 1894 to 1899
they more than doubled,
and increased in 1899
thirty-seven per cent,
over what they were in
1898. The railroads
never before experienced
such prosperity, 1899
showing fewer receiver-
ships than any year since
1882, and larger earnings
than any previous year.
Wages for labor increased
rapidly in every part of
the country, and never
before was there such a
sudden, and yet sub-
stantial, expansion in the
various manufacturing
industries. Steel rails
doubled in price between
February and August ;
cotton suddenly became a profitable crop;
copper made unprecedented rises. And never
before was there so much money in circula-
tion in the country, either in volume or in
per capita distribution; and never before
were the totals of the people's savings in the
banks so enormous. It was also a year of
extraordinary coal, gold, iron, lumber, cop-
per, and corn production; the year of the
most extensive and profitable lake and coast-
wise shipping traffic since the Civil War, and
by all odds the greatest year of business and
profits on the stock exchanges.

The suddenness of the business revival
is one of its most singular features. No
branch of industry is more sensitive to the
delicate variations of the times than the

Cnlted Stntoi*.

The gain of gold httween 1897 and IWibythe European
banke of laaue aa compared with the gain in the
United State* during the mme period.

steel and iron business. In February, 1899,
the owners of the great iron mines at the
head of Lake Superior contracted nearly
their entire output for the season at prices
twenty-five per cent, higher than those of
1898, only to find, within a few months, the
price of pig-iron almost doubled — rising from
$10.50 a ton in February, 1899, to $20.25
in August, 1899. In the same way the steel
men and the coal men, not realizing the tre-
mendous advance then
about to begin, con-
tracted large quantities
of their products at
prices which now look
remarkably low. Yet
there were a few manu-
facturers who, by shrewd-
ness or good luck, fore-
saw what was coming,
and reaped a rich re-
ward.

Adversity has its value
in the development of a
nation or a commercial
system as surely as it
has in the hardening and
refining of a man. The
panic of 1893 followed
a period of great pros-
perity and expansion, in
which ambitious men ex-
tended their credit more
rapidly than the growth
in the business of the
country would warrant.
During this period, the
country had become, as
a Western orator ex-
pressed it, vigorously, if
not beautifully, ** rotten
with mortgages." The
Baring failure of 1890 in London shook the
temple of credit until it trembled, but the
crash did not come until 1893. In that
single year there were no fewer than 15,242
failures in the United States, with liabilities
reaching the enormous total of nearly $347,-
000,000, the greatest in any one year in the
history of the nation. In each of the two suc-
ceeding years, 1894 and 1895, more than
13,000 business houses went into liquidation,
and in 1896, the year of the Presidential
campaign, the number increased again to
more than 15,000.

In order, therefore, to do any business
whatever, it became necessary for manufac-
turers, wheat-growers, miners, and business
men generally to use their wits as never be-

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THE NEW PROSPERITY.

fore. Profits being small, and competition

sharp, they sought for greater economies in

production. At the height of the hard times

in 1894, iron was manufactured in the South

at six dollars a ton, whereas it had cost a

few years before from eight dollars to nine

dollars a ton, an enormous percentage of

saving. Similarly, the great packers of

Chicago, finding that there was no longer

any paying profit in selling the ordinary

products of their

slaughter-houses —

the beef and the hides

— ^used greater efforts

to abate the waste of

parts of the animal

theretofore discarded

as valueless. In the

report of a single

concern for 1899, it

appears that these

former ' ' waste

products " of the

packing-house were

made to yield 4,000,-

000 pounds of neat's-

foot oil, 105,000,000

pounds of fertilizers,

6,250,000 pounds of

glue, 12,000,000 pounds of material used in

making artificial butter, and more than 31,-

000,000 pounds of crude fats, for all of

which there was a ready sale. Indeed, one

of the officials of this company asserted that

its dividends for the year 1899 were paid

entirely from the sales of by-products which

formerly went to waste.

In the same way that the manufacturers
reduced the cost of production by ingenuity
and economy, the farmers and stock-raisers
reduced their expenses to the lowest possi-
ble degree. Singularly enough, men are apt
to go into debt in good times and get out of
debt in hard times. There were millions of
dollars of mortgages in the West in the early
nineties, held by Eastern capitalists at ruinous
rates of interest. With the crash of 1893,
capital, suffering its own hardships, began
to withdraw its investments, and the farmers
were forced to pay off their loans or else
surrender their land. And pay they did, by
the hardest kind of economy. In the single
State of Kansas the farm mortgages, which
in 1890 amounted to the sura of $240,000,-
000, much of it bearing the exorbitant in-
terest of twelve per cent., had been reduced
in 1899 to less than $41,000,000, certainly
a remarkable evidence of the paying capacity
for a period of hard times. And the rates

Inertaae in the average indfvfdual depoHt in aavtnge banka
between 18M and UM.

of Kansas farm loans are lower now than
they ever were before.

Finally, in like manner, weak, unstable, and
inflated railroads were forced to reorganize
on a rational business basis. Fixed charges
were generally reduced, and there was a gen-
eral healing of financial sores. All fictitious
valuations were remorselessly wiped out, and
although the country was poor, it was honest
again, and it was ready for prosperity.

Prosperity must
always begin with the
producer. Something
must be obtained from
the soil which can be
sold for money, and
this money must start
the wheels of com-
merce. It so hap-
pened that in 1896
the price of wheat in
the United States be-
gan to rise, although
the crop of that year
was small. Then
came 1897 with an
enormous crop, the
largest by all odds
in many years. At
the same time the wheat crops of Russia
and India were short (to the verge of famine
in the last-named country), and the great con-
sumers of Europe, England especially, were
compelled to turn to America for food to
a much greater extent than usual. Ck)nse-
quently, the price of wheat went booming
upward, assisted by wild speculation on the
Chicago Board of Trade, in which much of
the money of a famous millionaire was un-
intentionally distributed among the wheat
producers of the West. The average price
per bushel on the farm in 1897 reached
nearly eighty-one cents, whereas in 1894 it
had been only forty-nine cents; in 1895, less
than fifty-one cents ; and in 1896, seventy-
three cents. Here was not only the largest
crop of years, but the highest price per
bushel. Foreign money and the money of
our own great population centers began at
once to flow into the great wheat States of
the Middle West. The farmers had pinched
along for years, and they needed every sort
of commodity; but clothing, food, and farm-
ing tools first of all. When they began to
spend money, the local merchants, who had
allowed their stocks to run to the lowest,
began to order goods of the wholesalers;
and this set the factories to going more
rapidly, and increased the freight business

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THE IMPROVEMENT BEGINS WITH THE FARMER,

Churches.

Art Gailories.

Libraries.

Collesrea.

Private ffi/U to puMic institutiorf in the United StaUa in Itn-gifta of lesa than $1,000 ore not included in thete totaU,

on the railroads. All this expansion, though
it was slow at first and noticeable only in the
special lines of clothing, food, and farm ma-
chinery, compelled the employment of more
men ; and thus the wheels of general com-
merce, lubricated by the money of the wheat
farmers, began to. turn a little more rapidly.

It is curious and wonderful to see how ex-
actly the indu3tries of the world tread in
lock-step, and how the man of the soil, the
farmer, towers huge and powerful at the
head of the line. When his tread is slow
and heavy, the iron-master, the transporter,
the miner, the manufacturer, must also tread
slowly, and depression and hard times are
abroad in the land. But when the man of
the soil increases his speed, those behind
him move more rapidly; for he represents
the world's primary need — food. Indeed,
this farmer is a wonderful and a powerful
force in the United States. There are up-
ward of 8,500,000 of him as agamst 5,000,-
000 manufacturing workers and only 386,000
mining producers. So much is heard of the
immensity of America's
manufacturing indus-
tries, and yet the farmer
has an invested capital
nearly three times that
of the manufacturer,
and more than twelve
times that of the miner,
although the manu-
facturer produces a
greater value of com-
modities per capita than the farmer.

The march toward prosperity was already
under way when the ** Maine" was blown
up in Havana Harbor and war with Spain was
declared. The war did not work wholly in one
direction in its effect on the business of the
country. On the one hand, it withheld timid
capital from expansive enterprises: capital
always waits until there is no bogy near,
before it ventures far from its strong box

Total eharihea of the Ameriean in 180S and in 1899.

the labor of the country for thousands of
unemployed men, because some 250,000 men
in gainful pursuits went into the war — all
within a few months, thus relieving, at least
partially, one of the direst distresses of hard
times — that of want of employment. And
then the war had the interesting and power-
ful psychological effect of diverting the mind
of the American from his own woes, his cur-
rency troubles, his tariffs, his hard times ; it
was efficacious as a mind cure. He began to
think of glory and patriotism and expansion ;
he went into the throes of hero-worship over
Dewey, Sampson, Roosevelt, Wood ; and when
the war was over, he returned to business in
a cheerful, confident frame of mind, believ-
ing himself to be quite the bravest and most
successful man on earth. Perhaps this very
feeling had more to do with the suddenness
of the arrival of the ** boom " in the early
months of 1899 than most people imagine.

After the war was over, business continued
to improve, though somewhat slowly for a
few months. Then in the fall of 1898 came
another amazing wheat
crop, more than 675,-
000,000 bushels, the
largest wheat crop in
the history of America.
There were also large
and richly profitable com
and oats crops, and the
South raised its greatest
crop of cotton. Along
with these great crops
there came, most fortunately, a very large
increase in the production of gold, not only
in the United States, but all over the world,
thus enabling the nations to maintain large
stocks of currency. The Klondike had been
discovered, as well as, later, the American
mines at Cape Nome; and the South Afri-
can gold mines produced at a rate theretofore
unequalled. In the United States the pro-
duction of 1898 exceeded that of 1896 by

On the other hand, the Government paid out nearly $11,000,000, and reached the enor-
within a few months more than $150,000,000 mous total of over $64,000,000. The pro-
to the producers, manufacturers, and wage duction of the world rose from $202,000,000
earners of the country. It also drew on in 1896 to over $287,000,000 in 1898.

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THE NEW PROSPERITY.

This immense production of gold and the
enormous sums of money which foreign coun-
tries paid to the United States for exported
commodities during 1898 and 1899 have very
greatly increased the money in circulation.
The total money of the United States on Feb-
ruary 1, 1900, had passed to the two-billion-
dollar mark, by all odds the greatest total
of money that the country has ever had. In
less than three and one-half years — that is,
between July 1, 1896, and December 1, 1899
— the increase was over $476,000,000, or
31 J per cent. Europe has not been able to
keep pace, even distantly, with the United
States in gold accumulation. All the banks
of issue in Europe, taken together, gained
only $4,000,000 between 1897 and 1900,
and in 1899 they suffered an actual loss.
The United States, on the other hand, gained
the enormous sum of $323,000,000, which
made the total stock of gold only one-third
less than that of the combined banks of issue
in Europe — certainly a condition quite the
reverse of stringency.

And the circulation has been increasing
considerably faster than the population.
Back in 1860, if the money in the United

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MONTANA ; \mINNF.50TA^

DAKOTA

MortpUinoB wvrr sold in the S'orthwait in tix month*, in 1M9, than
during the previoua tixftarn.

States could have been divided up, giving an
equal share to every man, woman, and child
in the country, there would have been $13.85
for each. By 1880, this per capita share of
the circulation was $19.41, and in 1890 it
was $22.82. It rose to $24.28 in 1894, and
then it began to fall, reaching $21.10 in
1896, during the currency agitation. Then
it went up again, until on February 1, 1900,
it reached $25.75, the highest in the history
of the nation. Our greatest commercial
rival, England, has a per capita circulation
of only a little more than $17.05 ; Germany,
also highly prosperous and progressive, has
only $19.84. Of all the great nations,
France is the only one that exceeds the
United States; she has a circulation of
$36.15 to every inhabitant, but France uses
cash in trade much more than this country.
Our recent great increase in money has been
an important factor in the return of pros-
perity, although it is as much a result of
prosperity as it is a cause.

It is difficult to give a consecutive narra-
tive of the progress of the prosperity wave.
Beginning with the winter of 1898-99, all
at once the entire country seemed to revive ;
a hundred industries began almost simultane-
ously to flourish; and by April, 1899, the
country was ringing with stories of growth,
expansion, and progress.

With the hint of returning confidence the
banks had begun to loan money at very low
interest — two and three per cent. Specula-
tors, finding that they could borrow at such
rates, began to trade more freely, and their
confidence stimulated capital owners, who had
long been without profits, to invest. That
curious and'potent microbe of a rising market
had begun its work, and there was a tremen-
dous rush to buy before prices went any
higher. Wall Street, feeling confident that
the time for a ** boom " had come and that
the profits would be immense, loaded up with
stocks of every description. But still there
were not stocks enough to supply the de-
mand, and idle capital still sought invest-
ment. It is easier to manufacture stocks
than it is to build a steel-mill, and the
profits from this industry, while they are
not as certain as the profits from a steel-mill,
may possibly be much more quickly gained.
Stocks now began to be manufactured to sup-
ply the rabid speculators. And these stocks
were the ** industrials," the ** trusts," the
birth of which caused such a ferment during
the winter of 1898-99. In the first seven
months of 1899, hundreds of these huge cor-
porations, or *' trusts," were authorized in

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UNPRECEDENTED BUSINESS ON THE STOCK EXCHANGES.

the State of New Jersey alone, with a total
capitalization of more than $4,000,000,000.
These inflated combinations are the natural
flowering of hard times. Following the panic
of the late seventies came the railroad com-
bination in which Jay Gould, " Jim " Fiske,
and other great speculators played such im-
portant parts. It is easy to effect such a
combination after a period of depression.
There has been little money in business, and
discouraged competitors are easily bought
out or forced into a combination, for there
is much plausibility as well as reason in the
argument that a single great corporation can
conduct a business more cheaply than many
smaller ones, and therefore earn larger
profits. And the fact that the combination
may be a monopoly with the power of raising
prices arbitrarily, if it chooses, appeals to
greed and cupidity. Thus came the " indus-
trials," many of them merely inflated stock-
jobbing combinations, and the stocks were
dumped in enormous quantities on the
market, and they, too, were bought up with
tremendous avidity.

The record of the stock market during
1828 and 1899 tells a graphic story of the
progress and effects of the wave. In 1894
the number of shares of stock bought and
sold on 'Change in New York was a fraction
over 49,000,000. In 1895, the number crept
up to 66,000,000, fell to 56,000,000 in 1896,
and rose to 77,000,000 in 1897. Then came
1898, with a record of 112,000,000 shares,
and 1899, with 175,000,000. Although the
business of 1898 reached the unprecedented
total of 112,000,000 shares, the prosperity
wave did not really affect the stock market
in New York until August of that year. It
reached its climax in January, 1899, the most
remarkable month in the history of the stock
exchange. The figures for that month showed
the phenomenal aggregate of 24,143,610
shares, which was almost one-fourth of the
entire business done in the previous twelve
months, nearly 15,000,000 shares greater
than that of the corresponding month in
1898, and more than double that of any
month in that year.

But while all this excitement was ferment-
ing on the exchanges, the legitimate manu-
facturing industries of the country were
rising slowly and quietly, but mightily, and
demanding money with which to meet the in-
creased calls of expansion. In the winter of
1898 the West wanted money also to move
its huge crops. In poor times the money of
the country gathers in New York, but with
new activities everywhere this money began

to drain westward and southward. Many
of the capitalists who had been playing
with stock speculation withdrew for more
substantial and not less promising enter-
prises, and Wall Street suddenly realized, in
the spring of 1899, that the public was not
biting at its '* industrials '* as eagerly as it
had been. Moreover, the rates of money,
owing to a sharper demand, had been creeping
up. In the great speculation month of Janu-
ary, 1899, the lowest rate for call loans was
two per cent., with six per cent, for the high-
est rate. By March the highest was nine per
cent., in April sixteen per cent., and then
came the first break of the season — a little
rift in the lute — a warning to the wise ones
that the pace set was too fast. During the
summer of 1899 the rates were compara-
tively low, and still other millions of '* indus-
trials " were poured into the market, and still
there were crazy buyers. In October, how-
ever, when there came considerable demands
in the West for money to move the crops,
and a demand for gold in England to conduct
the Transvaal war, call money in New York
reached forty per cent. In December, money
demanded the extraordinary call loai^ interest
of 186 per cent., and a panic followed. This
high rate was only for speculation loans;
mercantile paper at the same time ranged
about 6 per cent. Speculators who had been
carrying immense quantities of stock on
margins could not get any more money to
advance and were compelled to sell. Much
selling reduces prices just as much buying
advances them. As a result, down went the
price of stocks. The ** industrial " balloon
was pricked, and in falling it carried with it
the stocks of really stable and powerful cor-
porations which were in a highly prosperous
condition. It was that anomaly, a prosper-
ity panic.

Perhaps the most notable thing about the
recent upward wave is the manner in which
it has swept the entire country, scarcely a
single locality or a single industry having
escaped its welcome stimulation. Nothing
will give better proofs of this than the bank
clearings of the various American cities.
It was to be expected that New York,
the national money center, would show enor-
mous increases, although not such an in-
crease as it really did show (from $42,000,-
000,000 to $60,000,000,000 in the single
year from 1898 to 1899) ; but people were
not prepared for the astonishing showing
made all over the country. Only six cities
in the Union showed losses from 1898, the
highest of these being less than seven per

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THE NEW PROSPERITY,

cent. ; and in the country as a whole there
was an average gain of thirty-six per cent,
over 1898 and sixty-three per cent, over
1897.

Another proof that the returning prosperity
18 general as well as great is found in the mar-
velous showing for 1899 of
the savings and State banks
of the country. The savings
banks are patronized for
the most part by the poorer
classes of people —the work-
ing woman with her bank-
book, the laborer, the miner,
the manufacturing employ^.
On June 30, 1899, there
were over 5,200,000 depos-
itors in savings banks in the
United States, compared
with 4,800,000 in 1894, and
axOOOOO m 1S89, a gain
01 1,400,000 in ten years.
And each of these depositors
had, in the average, more
money to his account than
ever before, the average
amount on deposit rising
from $369 for each person
in 1894 to $419 in 1899.
The deposits in all the banks,
national and State as well
as savings, representing up-
ward of 13,000,000 indi-
vidual depositors, actually
doubled in ten years,
amounting in 1899 to the enormous sum of
$7,514,000,000. Of this great total the
savings banks and the State banks, the de-
positories of the poorer people, held nearly
one-half of the total, leaving to the national
banks and the trust companies the other half.

If the laboring people have been prosper-
ous, have been laying up money and paying
off debts, we may be sure the business men,
bankers, manufacturers, railroad owners, have
not been less fortunate. More than fifty
public companies in the United States de-

y alu€ of dUimnndn Importtd into thf I
Statti iH 1W7, IMS, and 1S9B.

liabilities of nearly $347,000,000, to only
9,337 in 1899, with liabilities of less than
$91,000,000. Remarkably enough, the av-
erage liability of the failed concerns also
decreased sharply. In 1893 every failure
meant liabilities of nearly $23,000, while
in 1899 the average wks
only $9,733, which is much
the lowest ever reported in
this country.

An interesting feature of
the situation, and one that
furnishes an especially strik-
ing proof of the unusual
volume of the home business
— the business between the
small buyers and the retail
store— is the remarkable
demand on the national
Treasury for the smaller
denominations of coins and
bills. George E. Roberts,
Director of the United
States Mint, told me that
never before was the demand
for them so great. A few
figures furnished by Mr.
Roberts will show this con-
dition exactly. In 1879,
when specie payment was
resumed by the (Government,
the vaults of the Treasury
at Washington began to fill
with dimes, quarters, and
half dollars, some of which
were sent back from foreign countries whither
they had been driven in the paper-money
days of the ('ivil War. The Government's
store of these coins kept increasing until
1885, when many big vaults in the Treasury
building wore full of them, and they amounted
to nearly $32,000,000. By September, 1899,
there was only a little more than $2,000,000
of them remaining in the Treasury. That is,
the working people of the United States were
handling and using $11,000,000 more of
dimes, quarters, and half dollars in Sep-

clared their first dividend in 1899; a score tember, 1899, than they had been using in

increased their rate of dividend, and thirty September, 1S97 two years -a most re-

made extra dividend payments to their markable and quite unprecedented record,

stockholders. The banks of New York never And the use of nickels and pennies increased

had a more generally profitable year than in proportion.

1899 The railroads of the country, mme- Not only has the use of small currency

ownere almost without exception, steel and thus greatly mcreased, but the postal busi-

iron men many other manufacturers, and ness of the country, which also indicates

wholesale and retail merchants also have much as to the financial condition of people

been large profit-earners. On the other at large, reached an unprecedented volume in

hSSd thf number of commercial failures the year 1S99. TheGovernmen money-order

Sk fi^m over 15,000 in 1893, with total department transacts the banking business

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INCREASED USE FOR SMALL DENOMINATIONS OF MONEY.

of people who do not maintain accounts with
banks and have no occasion to remit money
frequently. Postmaster-General Charles Em-
ory Smith furnished me with a number of
significant facts in regard to this business
during the past few years. The increase of
the money-order business for the year ended
June 30, 1899, over that of the year 1895
was more than 7,000,000 orders issued ; and
the increase in amount was $55,000,000.
Not only this, but the average amount of
mone]^ sent by money orders was increased
in the one year 1899 by
forty cents. For some time
previous to 1899 the aver-
age had been $7 to an
order ; in 1899 it was $7.40.
The increased volume of the
money orders sent to foreign
countries indicates the in-
creased prosperity of Ameri-
cans of foreign birth, many
of whom belong to the
h-umblest class of day
laborers. In a single week
preceding Christmas, 1899,
the aggregate amount of
orders sent by Americans
to their friends in Europe
and elsewhere was over
$2,500,000. And there
was a remarkable increase
in the amount of money
sent from the United States
in this manner in the three
years ending in 1899. For
the fiscal year of 1897, the
total business done
amounted to nearly $108,-
000,000 ; in 1899 the amount
rose to over $122,000,000,
an increase in two years of
over $14,000,000.

The general business revival showed a
most notable effect in the rise of the prices of
many commodities in 1899. The breadstuff s
— wheat, com, oats, barley, rye, flour — which
are the food of the poor, together with mut-
ton, tea, eggs, rice, and tobacco, decreased
in price, according to Bradstreet's report,
although the decrease was small. With other
food stuffs, such as beef, pork, butter, coffee,
sugar, and vegetables, there was an advance,
although so small, except in the case of beef
and pork, that many consumers probably
failed to notice it. But fuel and all kinds
of clothing, including shoes, were consider-
ably higher. Wages advanced and employ-
ment was steadier, however, in nearly all the

Vcihu qf hai9 and bonnet* imported Into tkt
VmUed 8taU» in 1W7 and 1899.

great industries. The farmer, on the other
hand, although his wheat and com went
down in price in 1899, was well able to
stand the change, because the crops of 1896,
1897, and 1898, all of which had sold at
high prices, had left him in excellent con-
dition ; and, besides, his cattle were bringing
him more money than ever before'. The
greatest rise in prices was in the commodi-
ties for which the foreigner and the great
corporations paid their money, notably in
building materials, including iron and steel,
in which the advance was
about forty-four per cent.
Metals came next, with a
gain of forty per cent.;
then coal and coke, with a
gain of 39J per cent. ; then
hides and leather, twenty-
six per cent. Raw cotton
and wool made specially
noteworthy advances, and,
from being among the most
depressed of industries, the
textile manufacturing trades
are now among the busiest.
It is significant tliat, while
the average increase in the
price of commodities in
America in 1899 was seven-
teen per cent., the British
gain in prices was only
twelve per cent. — a con-
clusive showing that while
England, and indeed the
whole world, was extraordi-
narily prosperous in 1899,
the United States was at
the summit of the wave.

It is especially interesting
and instmctive to consider
what may be called the
moral, or rather collateral,
effect of such an upward movement in the
business of a great country. A nation is
wondrously like a man. Adversity purifies
it and hardens its character; a period of
adversity is a time of good resolutions,
economy, development. It was to be ex-
pected, therefore, that when expansion came
again to business, it would also come to
many other departments of human activity.
And this, indeed, happened in 1899. Take,
for example, the matter of donations and
bequests for public causes and institutions.
The year 1899 shows a record in this quite
as extraordinary as in the bank clearings or
the railroad earnings. While Wall Street
was frantic with stock speculation and steel

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THE NEW PROSPERITY.

was doubling in price, the big, comfortable,
benevolent American was giving away over
$79,000,000, which exceeded the gifts of
1898 by the astounding sum of over $55,-
000,000, a gain of nearly fifty per cent.,
and gifts under $1,000 are not counted. In
that single year Andrew Carnegie established
no fewer than twenty-one libraries in various
parts of the country, his donations exceed-
ing $2,582,000. Thirty-four persons made
donations ranging from $100,000 to $28,-
000,000. Indeed, it seemed as though every
millionaire in the country, once good times
had come again, opened his heart and purse-
strings. To charities there was donated or
bequeathed during the year a total of $13,-
036,676. Churche8received$2,961,593. The
museums and art galleries of the country were
the gainers by the year's liberalities to the
extent of $2,686,500. To the libraries was
given a total of $5,012,400. The amount
donated or bequeathed to universities, col-
leges, and academies surpasses all the other
items combined, being $55,581,817. More-
over, never before was there such a tide of
students to the colleges as in 1899, and the
same tendency appeared even in the district
schools.

More curious still, reports from various
States show that crime ever3rwhere decreased.
Take, for instance, the showing in the single
State of Illinois. For the year ending Sep-
teif)ber 30, 1895, during the hard times,
927 convicts were sent to the State peniten-
tiary. In the year ending September 30, 1899,
the number was only 506, or hardly more than
half. The decrease unquestionably is due to
lessened idleness. The army of the unem-
ployed is no longer an army and no longer
unemployed; and there is, in consequence,
less drunkenness and less tendency to crime.
Prosperity also brings with it a feeling of
hope. Things must improve, there is money
to be made, and comforts to be gained. The

legitimate means of acquiring fortune have
suddenly become easier than thieving.

Prosperity is expansive ; it loves its com-
forts, its fine china, its music, its theaters,
its rich wines, its fine tobaccos, its jewelry,
its silks, and its satins. After six years of
pinching and saving, is it any wonder that
the country takes a long breath and buys the
new top-buggy, the necklace, the piano, upon
which it has been building its desires ? The
year 1899 brought unexampled prosperity to
all of those trades which lie just beyond the
borders of hard necessity over against lux-
ury. Last fall a railroad manager in St.
Paul told me that more pianos had been
transported to the Northwest during the six
months ending July 1, 1899, than during the
preceding six years.

Then there are the items of diamonds and
top-buggies — diamonds being a standard of
1 uxury to the East and top-buggies to the West.
I haven't the exact figures on top-buggies,
but I was told by a manufacturer that more
business in buggies was done in 1899 than
ever in any year before, twice over. As for
diamonds, in the fiscal year of 1897 the total
value imported into the country was only
about $2,000,000; in 1898, the amount had
increased to $7,000,000, whereas in 1899 the
diamonds imported had a value of over $12,-
000,000. And, finally, in the supreme lux-
ury of fine foreign bonnets and millinery
materials, the value of the importations for
1899 was $2,644,000, an increase of $400,-
000 over 1898, and of $533,000 over 1897.
Like increases appeared in the importation
of pictures and works of art, the value for
1899 being $2,800,000, compared with only
$2,300,000 in 1898.

In short, in almost every article of life,
whether luxurious or essential, as in almost
every way of life, the heightened prosperity
shows itself decisively ; and all the present in-
dications are for its substantial continuance.

FRANCE

U.S.

GERMANY

ENGLAND

/Vr capita Hreutatfon ofmomi/ in four toMding nations in 1W9.

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EDITORIAL NOTES.

THE SUGGESTION CONTEST.

IN McClure's Magazine for March, 1899,
the following editorial announcement
was made :

One thousand dollars will be paid for subjects or
ideas for twelve articles for McClurb's Magazine.
The suggestions may be for a series of articles or for
single articles. The only condition is that they prove
available to the editors of the Magazine and are not on
subjects already under consideration. The prize-win-
ners will be given the first opportunity to write the
articles. For a smaller number of successful ideas a
pro rata sum will be paid.

S. S. McClurk.

Perhaps no magazine ever made another
oflfer of this kind to which there were so
many responses, and the great number of
the responses has caused an unavoidable
delay in making and announcing the awards.

The oflfer of $1,000 was for the twelve
best suggestions, and not, as some assumed,
for the best twelve from any one person.
Many persons sent a score or more each, and
our task has been to select the best twelve
from all the thousands submitted. In only
one case did more than one of the sugges-
tions submitted by the same person prove to
be available. This was in the instance of
Dr. W. C. Mitchell, two of whose suggestions
share in the award. The award has been
made on the basis of $83.34 for each sugges-
tion accepted. The following are the names
and addresses of the persons submitting the
twelve finally accepted :

Dr. WiLUAM C. Mitchell (2), Denver.

Mr. H. H. Brimlby, Raleigh, N. C.

Mr. James Barnes, New York City.

Rev. Cyrus T. Brady, Philadelphia.

Mr. Samuel T. Clover, Chicago.

Mr. Charles A. Dancy, New Orleans.

Mr. Adachi Kjnnosuk^, Los Angeles.

Mr. W. J. Lampton, New York City.

Mr. Samuel E. Moppett, New York City.

Mr. Chauncey Thomas, Denver.
Mrs. Martha McCulloch Wa.UAMS, New York City.

We have worked for many months with
the greatest care over the suggestions sub-
mitted, in order to be perfectly just to all
concerned; and as, after all, the Magazine
itself was to be the final gainer or loser by
the choice, it will be seen that there was no
partiality possible. For business reasons, it
is thought best not to announce the sug-
gestions themselves at present. As they are

wrought out into completed articles, our
readers will make due acquaintance with
them in the pages of the Magazine.

Although this announcement completes the
formal contest, we wish it known that there
is a perpetual competition for good ideas^
and that we will gladly pay any correspond-
ent for original ideas available for magazine
articles, according to their worth. It should
be remembered, however, that articles are
planned months and sometimes years ahead,
and that consequently subjects may not
always be new to us even when they are so
to those who submit them.

THE S. S. McCLURE COMPANY'S
NEW BOOKS.

We have the privilege of announcing from
our Book Department three attractive vol-
umes for immediate publication.

CONAN DOYLE.

As shown by ** The Adventures of Sher-
lock Holmes," Dr. Doyle is at his best in
short stories. ** The Green Flag, and other
Stories of War and Sport " will be published
at once by the S. S. McClure Company in
connection with the two books noted below.
The collection includes the author's most
important recent work.

HENRY DRUMMOND.

During a career which continued for nearly
forty years, the late D wight L. Moody brought
a spiritual uplift to thousands of homes in
this country and Great Britain. The con-
secration of strong common sense and organ-
izing ability made him the greatest evangelist
of his time. Such a man as Henry Drum-
mond had no hesitancy in saying, '' He is the
biggest human I have ever met. ' ' Some little
time before his own death. Professor Drum-
mond wrote a series of articles which the
closest friends of the evangelist characterized
as ** the best appreciation of Mr. Moody ever
written. ' ' As a young man Professor Drum-
mond first met Mr. Moody during the wonder-
ful revival in Great Britain in 1873-75, and
from that time remained in close touch with
him. The words of the distinguished Scotch-
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JUNE, IQOO
VOL. XV. NO. 2

lOCEN

M9C LURES
MAGAZl

EVERY TABLET

Pears* Soap

is kept at least twelve months before^
it is sold. This can be said of no
other Soap in the world, and good
soap, like good wine, improves with
age.

You may keep Pears* Soap for
twenty years in any climate, and it
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tive that there is no shrinkage, and
that it is old and well-matured.

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STILLING THE TEMPEST.

Then he arose , and I'ebuked the wind and the raging of the ua(er.—LvKE, viii. 24. Jcpijh und lIi^ diK-iplcs,
desiring to reach the otiier side of the ijca of Galilei', " went into a ship ; " and as lliey saik-ii, '* He fell ut-lecp :
and there came down a storm of wind/' Such storms are common to the region, especially in the autumn, when
tblB event probably took place. During the niijht I sjient by the Sea of Galilee a hani eant wind came up, and
Bleep was out of the question. My tent swayed and tlap|>cd : the tlirumming of tiic staye min«;hd ^\ iih the sound
of the men pounding in the tent-iK»gH, their whacking blows accenting the noise of thetemiK-et, while their voic(^
were blown about most od»llv, now reaching my ears in full volume, and now t^eeming to come faint from various
far-awav quarters. I breakfasted early in the morning, three hours In-fore sunrise, the waning m<K)n shining in
a cloudless, starry sky. F>om the co<)king-tent I could hear heated argument, fierce outbursts, sounding in that
wild turmoil like'the quaireling of goblins. It w as w ell in harmony with the moment. By dawn, the temi)ei»t eub-
sided into a zephyr.— Aktist's Note.

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McClure's Magazine.

Vol. XV.

JUNE, 1900.

No. 2.

AfCv:-^::r;->jV/r;v>>:-:-:ii£-jjjr^^^^

The Japanese Flying Squadron and the leading ship of the Prinetpal Sijuadron in line ahtad.

A CADET AT THE BATTLE OF THE YALU.

By Adachi KiNNosuKfe,

Author of *' Iroka : Tales of Japan.''*

A STORY OF THE JAPANESE-CHINESE WAR.

AR away on the horizon, from then we couldn't tell it from any other fine

beneath the purple and day. Beautiful! Well, yes, in that it was

dream-like bed-quilts, it utterly unlike all other days,

woke and opened its large, The sea— older than tradition — is a little

blue eyes, the 17th of Sep- maid after all. All her girlishness was on her

tember, 1894. Ah ! I see dimpling face that morning. She laughed,

the very mention of it af- giggled, and sang : according to the humor

fects you. True, it's a of breezes, changeful as the heart of man.

darling of History now, but ** Shikataga nei (Can't be helped) ! " He

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100

A CADET AT THE BATTLE OF THE YALU.

was laughing. ** They have misplaced their
tails. And I don't wonder at all that
China's august braves cannot come out
straight — with their heads in front. Ha!
ha! ha!"

*' A-ha-ha-ha!'' I laughed heartily with
him.

How tired we were, looking for the Chinese
forever and forever! The Japanese squad-
rons were steaming leisurely out of a harbor
of the Hai-yang Island *Mn line ahead."
The "Yoshino" was leading the Flying
Squadron, and the flag of Rear-Admiral
Tsuboi Kozo, languid on the halyard, was
flirting gently with the winds. My eyes —
as they generally are when I am dreaming
— were wandering afar. On the port bow,
far down the horizon, there was something
which made my eyes jump. Smoke! And
sure enough there was a signal on the '* Yo-
shino."

** Look! look! look! " I exclaimed.

There was a pause — stormy, silent, dead.

** Tei-koku banzai! Nihon's navy ten thou-
sand years!" Yamaji shouted.

A minute— and aboard every ship the
''officer's call" and "action" flew out
merrily and away from the bugles.

They fairly flew, the " Yoshino," the
"Takachiho," the " Akitsushima," the "Nan-
iwa." The Japanese impatience was their
speed. " At full speed," so reads our oflS-
cial report; at " perhaps twice our speed,"
so says Commodore McGifl^n, who commanded
the ' ' Chen Yuen. ' ' The Principal Squadron
heeled the Flying Squadron closely. What
a sight that was from our military top !

"The twelve Japanese ships," wrote a
gentleman who fought against us, "form-
ing apparently a single line, and preserving
station and speed throughout most beauti-
fully, could not but excite a feeling of
admiration." This same man had said — it
may be interesting for some of you to know
— not many weeks before the day of battle :
" We are now on our way with six good ships
to meet the enemy to-morrow, and I hope we
will sink the dogs!"

All is but a memory now, and yet, laugh
as much as you please, I can hardly write
about it. Nervous, you ask ? — well, you see
me tremble — that is right. The faintest
dream of it swells my heart right up into
my throat and chokes me. Whether I close
my eyes, or keep them wide open, it is all
the same. The picture— just as I saw it
from the military top of the " Hiyei " and
by his side — is before me, every detail of

it. The huge slices of snow-spray which
the cut-waters plowed in the emerald field,
the turbulent fountains at the rudders, the
boiling streams flowing therefrom between
the banks of foam, and those ships, trim in
their new Sabbath coats of paint, ribboned
with the signal flags of many colors, and
over all, high up in the sky, at the mast-
heads, the national ensigns waving and flap-
ping their greetings to the unseen spectators
(perhaps on the star-worlds far away), and
the sea laughing all about us, and the au-
tumn sun winking saucily from every dimple
of a ripple and all! A wedding march of
sea gulls, one might have said, watching our
ships in line ahead. And a bridal party they
were, to be sure ! We were going to meet the
groom, the formidable Pei Yang Squadron.
Everybody had heard the name. Mothers
had used it to scare the babies into a more
philosophical frame of mind.

How jolly they were, those Chinese whales,
in their fresh buntings, under the new yel-
low flags ! A blunt wedge in formation to
the eyes of distance, they steamed out to
meet us, those gay gallants, with black
plumes of smoke swaying gracefully to the
lee. Did one ever see a rendezvous more
gala-like ?

"Sixty-five hundred yards . . . sixty-
three hundred . . . sixty-one . . . sixty
. . . fifty-nine hundred ! "

12 : 22 P.M.—' ' Fifty-eight hundred yards! ' '

A huge cotton-like cloud, pierced with a
lightning flash, belched out from the " Ting
Yuen's " starboard barbette. It thundered.
Not very far ahead of the "Yoshino" a
geyser was bom, all of a sudden. A white
column of water stood against the skies.
The other Chinese ships followed suit — a
perfect fury of roar. What a thunderous
reception for the bride— white and silent !

For five minutes, under the incessant Chi-
nese fire, the Japanese were perfectly silent.
Maybe you, chatting by the side of your
Mary in the kindly gloaming, this Sunday
evening, think it a rather short time . Time
passed a little differently with those impa-
tient Japanese gunners. The distance was
fast being eaten up. " Thirty-three hun-
dred yards!" The longer hand of a clock
was just approaching 12 : 30. Then the Jap-
anese guns opened their iron throats and
spake. When they did reply, there seemed
to be a great deal of conviction in their voice.

"Look yonder!" shouted I, my eyes
strained on the "Ting Yuen" through the
dense smoke, my fingers signaling my exul-
tation and surprise to the universe at large.

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102

A CADET AT THE BATTLE OF THE YALU.

The upper part of the " Ting Yuen's " largest
mast was gone. The 32-centimeter from the
*' MatsusWma " had paid a very jarring visit
to it.

Time, 12:58. The Chinese fleet looked
for signals at the flag-ship, the ** Ting Yuen.''
In place of commands, the sad stump of the
mast was weeping in ashes. How could the
Chinese act in concert and keep their forma-
tion when no chicken with its head chopped
off is expected to walk straight ?

*' What, the head gone ? So early ! " re-
marked he, solemn and dry as a commence-
ment sermon, my friend Yamaji.

The Wakamatsu Castle was proud of Yam-
aji's father now of old. His Majesty, the
Ten-no, in those days, was courting flowers and
poetry behind the purple curtain in the quiet
of the Kyoto palace, far away from the mar-
kets and war. The shogun, the military re-
gent, was the captain and helm of the country.
Eighteen hundred and sixty-eight came, and
with it one of the most radical of revolu-
tions. We, sitting cross-legged in the lap
of the New Japan, look back at the year,
and call it O-ji-shin, ** great earthquake."
The feudalism in Japan was a pale mirage of
a dream; the Tokugawa shSgunate was a
straw pagoda caught in a storm all of a
sudden. Those were sad days for some of
the clansmen.

They fought under the same flag, Yamaji's
father and mine, under the flag of the shd-
gun. They died in the same castle, in the
same twilight of that same unkindly day,
which fell upon them in benediction from the
patriarchal pines. They were samurai, and
samurai-like they committed hara-kiri and
paid their last debt of gratitude.

Sang a Chinese poet, once long ago:
*' When the snow is heavy on the boughs,
then, for the first time, we know the color
of the pine." The Wakamatsu Castle was
one of the evergreens. The imperial arms,
under the royal ** brocade banners," turned
northward. Castle after castle fell. *' The
wind was on the rice-field," wrote the his-
torian of the time. The thirst for conquest
is a sort of fire, and no amount of oil poured
upon it will quench it. And the impe-
rial victories were the most combustible of
oil.

Many said: **What is the use? Resist
that avalanche of the imperial army ? You
are joking. Shed the blood of so many no-
ble samurai for nothing ? What nonsense !
Does not His Majesty offer the most liberal
and honorable of terms ? Those who sur-

render— mark the words of his august edict !
— shall go unmolested and without penalty
of any kind. More than that, does not His
Majesty decree that the oflScers of his new
government shall be chosen irrespective of
their past fidelity to the Tokugawa Bakufu,
and solely on the basis of merit ? "

All of which was true. And yet, there
were samurai who, like a faithful wife, were
too truly wedded to the course of the sho-
gunate to see two paths where duty led them.
Call them misguided, and you may be right.
Foolish, if you please, and many other names,
my clever friends ; but one thing was cer-
tain: ingrates they never were. Neither
did they perjure themselves. Had not the
Tokugawa shdgun clothed, fed, trained, dig-
nified, honored them ; and for over two hun-
dred and fifty years, them and their ances-
tors ? They did not, could not, forget that.
Did they not swear at the altar of samuraVs
honor that they would spell out their grati-
tude to their daimyo and shdgun with let-
ters, not of ink, but of their best blood,
ruddy and warm with their life ? Japanese
history had been proud to record many a
name of samurai who had sacrificed his wife,
his children, his own life, and all for the
cause of loyalty. And they, the samurai of
1868, bore the same proud names.

Remember also, however much they might
be in error, they had a firm conviction — and
sincere as truth in it, too — that right was
on their side. They never lifted their swords
— that is to say, as they looked at it— against
His Majesty, the Ten-no. They were fight-
ing against the foul advisers who '* tacked
His Majesty under their arms and dictated to
thfe world " in his august name ; that was all.

" I offer this to you," said the last breath
of my father, as he handed me his sword ;
** draw and honorably look at it. Are there
any stains ? None ? And so is my soul and
my conscience and my honor."

The sword was as pure as the heart of a
god!

The Wakamatsu Castle fell. And in that
chamber of Karasu where his father com-
mitted hara-kiri Yamaji was present — a wit-
ness of the scene of tears and blood, even
an actor in it — in his mother's arms. He
was three months old.

The act was committed. His blood was
on the snow-white of his ceremonial robe.
A perfect stoic, calm, and as much above
pain and death as the Fuji's snow is above
the stains of the sewer! That, then, was
the last and the greatest conquest of a sa-

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* Hf . . . rainrd hin bugle to hilt li pa and blew . . . »igm\l after nignai:'

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10:1

A CADET AT THE BATTLE OF THE YALU.

murai, victory over death and pain. And
am 1 placed under the necessity of defending
this flower-act of a brave soul, who scorned
death and rewards alike and was mindful
only of duty and of the honor of a samurai
— of defending such an act — a * * barbarous ' '
act ? There are some, so they tell me, who,
when they are butchered like dogs under the
sabers of their enemies, shriek, groan, and
cry, as if death were the most unexpected
thing on a battlefield. And, moreover, I am
told that they wear the soldier's uniform.
There are some also, I have heard it said,
whp congratulate themselves — aye, receive
the congratulations from their friends with
beaming faces, too— on their lucky escape.
* * Lucky ! ' ' Just think of it — and strut about
through the streets the rest of their lives
doing nothing but write * * Colonel "or * * Gen-
eral " bigger and bigger, and sound it louder
and louder still on top of their names. And
if my ears deceive me not badly, there are a
lot of people who call these gentlemen the
heroes of the battle of so and so ! And cer-
tainly they may be right. But I digress.

** Nearer — nearer,'* whispered the dying
samurai to his wife.

** Taro/' he said, as she approached him
closely and presented their child to the dying
husband. **Taro" is the given name of
Yamaji. The father placed his blood-stained
finger on the baby's forehead.

** I die for and with Bakufu— in order to
answer for its gracious favors. The debt is

** The itpjwr part <tf tht ' Ting J'»ir»'»' lurgrtit tua/it ivus gonf.'*

paid. And now I dedicate my child to the
Heaven-emperor, His Majesty. May "

His breath failed him ; his heart was silent.

The silent tears from his mother's eyes
did not erase the blood seal on the baby's
forehead.

When he was about five years of age his
mother took him to the shrine of the Ujigami
(local deity), and within hearing of the sol-
emn hymns of the sacred cataract dedicated
him anew, in the presence of the god, to the
cause of His Majesty.

Ten years later, on a moonlit, silver night,
the metal mirror peeping through the open
work of the shrine of the local deity saw a
young man near where the mother had dedi-
cated her five-year-old Yamaji. The mother
discovered — and it must have been about that
time — that her son held a daily converse
with the mortuary tablet of her husband,
as if he were talking with the living. When
she happened to catch him as he came out
of the family shrine, she noted plain traces
on his face and in his eyes of tears, which
he could not wipe away.

The Japanese Flying Squadron had steamed
past the Chinese right flank. They were re-
spectful enough to all the Chinese ships, the
polite Japanese that they were, but espe-
cially so to the **Chao Yung" and the
** Yang Wei." The Japanese compliment
was a little too warm for the poor ** Yang
Wei." And yet it is not in the nature of
some Chinese — so they, the naughty- tongued,
tell me — to refuse anything when it is given
them. She was in flames. We could see
her— a picture hung against the wall, of some

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A CADET AT THE BATTLE OF THE YALU.

105

misty hue — over the sea. The smoke veiled
it. The smoke framed it. She was a beau-
tiful, appetizing sight, was that ship. That
was the finest bonfire I have seen in all
my life, and I have seen a few thousands of
them, more or less.

They were already porting, those four ves-
sels of the Plying Squadron — thundering,
lightening, smoking like volcanoes, under
the huge black umbrellas stretched from
their smoke-stacks, and the graceful mass of

teen knots) except the '' Akagi,'' a gunboat
of 615 tons. We had engaged the ** Chen
Yuen " and other ships of the Chinese left.
We were just ahead of the Chinese flag-ship,
the ** Ting Yuen." The distance between
us and the rest of the line was increasing.
Rather than invite the fire of the two iron-
clads, the **Ting Yuen'' and the *'Chen
Yuen,'* and of the ** King Yuen" and the
** Ching Yuen " ; rather than, after all that,
risk failing to join the squadron, as she

^^^Pif^P^s

^^^^S^^tM^Htaiiiiila^

^^M^^btt^ttii^^Blsiiir'

ssaSa

* A thick column rose from the quarter-deck and poop, genie faahion.

. The ahip irai on fire.*

lace-like smoke trailing court-lady fashion
at their heels.

The ** Matsushima/' at the head of the
Principal Squadron, reached the Chinese
right, and was just flanking it. And a gay
treat of a heavy cross-fire that was to which
she was treating the **Chao Yung." It
was, in all conscience, too much. Had not
the Plying Squadron treated her politely
enough ? She appreciated the attentions
rather warmly, and her enthusiasm burst out
in blazing, towering smoke— on fire!

Our ship, "Hiyei," was the last in the
Principal Squadron, the slowest in speed (thir-

surely must, for there was no tempering
the speed of the rest of the ships in line
ahead; rather than be sunk in an ignoble
running-away fight ; rather than

Pierce the Chinese line — and why not ? —
save the ship, if possible, and join the Prin-
cipal Squadron on the other side !

Captain Sakura Kikunosukg stood on the
bridge. Off to the starboard quarter the
two Chinese ironclads were bearing down
upon us. He pointed at them. ** Between
them ! ^ he cried.

The din of the few hundred cannon, so
demonstrative of their affection ; the dense

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136

A CADET AT THE BATTLE OF THE YALU.

be blown to powder, or sunk outright ! Does
^ not the captain know well enough the solid-

X tude of Vice-Admiral Ito, the commander-in-

ft chief of the squadrons, for the preservation

of all the ships ? Oh, if things come to the
worst, of course he, for one, would not live
to see the disgrace and suffer the pang of
*^. the loss. IJut then, what of the national

dignity, the luster of the Sun-flag, which
are, by great odds, more important than his
life ? And in ail the black list of crimes
none, surely, is darker for soldiers than dis-
obeying an order, or (which amounts to the
-. same thing) acting independently on a course

so critical as
that! Few,
very few oth-
ers had done
anything of
the kind be-
fore him.
Nelson was
one of them.
Captain Saku-
ra's name
will enter the
catalogue of
the names of
the few.

When Ya-

maji noted

the change in

the course of the ** Hi-

yei " and understood

what it meant, he said,

** Sons of samurai!*'

I was called below.

•* fVlth all my mluht Hhretr It totmrd him."

smoke, in volume enough to make a decent
pall for a good-sized genie ; the frequent, and
HO often sudden, shower-baths of shot and
shell which you had to take whether you would
or no these and the ghastly sight of the
human butcher-shop all around are not the
most suitable things to keep a man's head
clear. To run the gauntlet of the Chinese
line between those ironclads ! That, at least,
was not a coward's programme. To follow
the chord of the arc, and join the Principal
Squadron —the only way of salvation for the
**Hiyei"— on the other side! That, say
what you please, was no vision which a slow-
witted muddle-head would see.

Did the flag-ship signal the ** Hiyei'' to
follow any such course ? Sup{>08e she should

We steamed in at full speed, letting loose
the very fury from our broadsides as we
went, by way of an applause to the memory
of the good old chop-me-up-and-1-will-split-
you-open, gallant days when the line of bat-
tle was a series of duels of ships battering
away at each other till one of them struck
its flag. What a melee that was! That
beautiful sheet of water, which scarce an
hour before was as smooth and transparent
as the brow of my lady, how it was churned,
dug, whipped, and scarred ! We could hardly
believe our own eyes. There never was a
worse small-pox than the hailstorm of pro-
jectiles. 1 acknowledge those Chinese knew
how to pay respects that were due from
them and return the compliments paid them.
They fired at us point-blank. And as the
commander of the ** Chen Yuen'' writes,
** It was utterly impossible to miss."

** Eleven hundred yards . . . eleven hun-

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A CADET AT THE BATTLE OF THE YALU.

107

dred . . . nine hundred and ninety yards ! "
The voice was resonant, deep, and rose above
the din, and was clear as the wedding-bell.
Yamaji was shouting down from the top.

Much depended on him, on the correctness
of his mathematics, on the clearness of his
head. Let his calculation run off at a tan-
gent, and a pretty mad riot there would have
been among the shot and shell !

** Eight hundred and eighty yards . . .
seven hundred and seventy . . . five hun-
dred and fifty . . . five hundred and fifty ! "

Then it was that we entered into the queer
place over the gateway of which, Dante tells
us, is the warning to leave hope behind.
The beautiful autumn day, dreamy on the
historic Yellow Sea of the poets, was sud-
denly hurled into the primordial chaos where
the sun had not yet been bom. I came upon
a bugler. He was pulling out a jagged piece
of an exploded shell from his body. His uni-
form was dyed, and it did not take a doctor
to tell how painful and dangerous was the
wound. ** Below! Go down below!'' said
I, pointing to the surgeon.

Judge my surprise when he, ignoring my
orders altogether, raised his bugle to his lips
and blew, actually blew, signal after signal.
I was speechless. The blood gushed out
with every breath. A minute later, as I
passed him, I saw a surgeon's assistant by
his side. ** Come this way," the man was
saying.

** Thanks,'* said the bugler in answer to
the invitation, ** but my duty is to stand
right here at my post, and therefore "

He had no time to say more. A shell
struck his head from behind, and fiung it
into the sea. A curling smoke of spray, a
tiny whirlpool, and then expansive circles of
eddies on the slope of a swelling billow —
they were all, the only monument left of the
memory of the heroic unknown. And even
these, a few seconds afterward, as the line
shots kicked up a stupendous wall of spray
and foam — even these very transitory me-
mentoes which, if one might call them such,
marked, tomb-like, the last spot whence the
bugler took his leap into the infinite beyond —
even these eddies, I say, were stormed out
of sight.

I thought that my arms, both of them,
were pretty well occupied, especially just at
that time. But a steel shot thought other-
wise, and, kindly and thoughtfully enough, it
came and relieved me of one of them. A
shell burst jast then on the other side of the
mainmast from where we stood. A piece

struck my comrade on the back. I caught
him as he fell in my remaining arm. And
^ith him and with the bleeding stump of my
left arm, I dashed down into an officer's
mess-room, which, for the time being, was
converted into a surgeon's ward.

As I almost tumbled down into the room,
I jerked myself into a dead halt. What a
sight that was ! A shell had entered. There
was a good-sized lake in the center of the
room that had red water in it. And the
whole medical staff (yes, to a man) lying
there with the wounded who had been car-
ried in, all heaped in piles, made an embank-
ment for the ruddy lake of respectable thick-
ness and height. I forgot to unburden myself
of the almost lifeless body of my comrade,
and stood there, stone-like, for a few seconds.

I heard a sound which was not exactly a
groan. It came from a heap in a corner,
a monstrosity of mutilation. The fire had
stripped his head and eyebrows clean naked,
and one could by no means tell where his nose
might have been. What an appalling rag of
flesh did he wear for his face! ** There is
the medicine you want— there. ' ' That thing
could speak ! But that hand of his which he
raised to point out the place of the medicine !

The unhappy man thought, it was very
evident, that he was the only survivor of the
entire medical staff. He must serve his fel-
low-comrades. He alone could direct, none
else. So he tottered to his feet. Why, in
the name of all good sense, didn't he lie
quiet and make himself as comfortable as
possible, in a dream, at least, if not in solid
expectation, of getting hauled safely out of
that hades and healed by and by, and of sit-
ting comfortably there on the green sod un-
der the shades of a pine on Maiko Beach, or
some other kindly place, and of spending his
remaining days in affluence on his pension
and under the glorious gold-corded uniform
of a captain ? Why get up in that horrid
condition? Didn't he have sense enough to
know that his veins would be all empty of
blood within five minutes at most ?

Just then Lieutenant-Commander Saka-
moto Toshiatsu stepped into the room. The
officer recognized the man, by his uniform, of
course, not by his face, to be the medical
attendant of the first class, Miyashita Suke-
jiro.

** Sukejiro," the commander called out to
him, ** your words and deeds snow that you
are truly a valiant man. I see what a loyal
subject of the Emperor you are. If you die,
your name shall never die. Be assured, I
will take care of that."

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A CADET AT THE BATTLE OF THE YALU.

** Are you the staflf commander ? As the
Honorable Presence sees, that shell almost
finished me. I regret that my hands and
feet obey my bidding no longer. I truly re-
gret that I can do no more for the Sun-flag
and His Majesty."

Out of the surgeon's ward and scarcely
three steps on the starboard quarter, I was
rushing back to my post, when something
like a bloody moon burst right over my head,
a thunder roared, and chaos followed. An-
other shell! That was all-^and who can
spare time to notice such a trifling matter ?

Then I heard the commander exclaim:
** Look, look at him ! He acts as if the eyes
of the eight million gods were upon him!
Would that all Japan were witnessing him ! "

Eyes were turned to the military top. A
shell struck a comer of it, and my friend
Yamaji was hoisted out of it as if the top
were a petard. He was a terrible sight— his
hair singed, his coat smoking. He alighted
on the shroud just below the top. Well, you
ought to have seen him then ! Agile as the
professional monkey of a juggler, he leaped
back again into the top.

" Five hundred and fifty yards ! " he shouted
down. Oh, nothing had happened to him ;
that is to say, to his way of thinkipg. Some-
thing robbed him of his signal flags and a
lump of flesh from his left shoulder.

** Blaze away!" he shouted to the gun-
ners still remaining in the top. One might
have thought from the strength of his voice
that he was waking from the dead.

There was a hearty laugh below, on the
bridge. And how utterly ill-timed did it
sound amid that tremendous concert of shots,
in that pandemonium of fire and blood.

Yamajidid look mirth-provoking. Butwith
thatsteadinessof nerve, that presenceof mind,
that utter indifference to the hot-breathed
threats of the whizzing shells passing and re-
passing an inch ahead of his nose and through
the bodies of his comrades — ah, what a
sublime sight he was, if you could but stop
long enough to think of it!

Let the truth be told. The commander
was right when he remarked that the boy
was acting to spectators: only it was not
the eyes of the eight million gods. The eyes
he felt burning on every action of his were
those of a man — then dead a lorg time,
whose name even was being forgotten by
some of his own clansmen — his father. What
seemed to observers intrepidity and daring
gone mad, was nothing but a prayer in Yama-
ji's heart. WTiat seemed a miracle to the

ofiicers below on the bridge, was a mere
translation of that little sentence, spoken
some twenty-four years before, within a
doomed castle, under the shadow of defeat
and by a man bowing down on his sword and
committing hara-kiri: *' I dedicate my child
to the Heaven-emperor, His Majesty."

I said that his mother's tears did not erase
the blood seal upon the baby brow ; neither
did those twenty-four years.

**Six hundred and sixty yards ... six
hundred and sixty yards . . . seven hun-
dred and seventy yards . . . eight hundred
and eighty!"

Slow and old as the shij was, she was run-
ning at her topmost spee^. She had passed
and was astern the Chinedfe line. She was un-
der a heavy cloak of smoke. A thick column
rose from the quarter-deck and poop, genie
fashion. It rolled clear up to the mizzen-
top, swelling, belching, fatter and fatter.
The ship was on fire !

The Chinese wanted to know whether we
were done for or not; and, by way of ascer-
taining it, they sent a deadly messenger.
The shot crashed through our upper works.

I was fighting the flames instead of the
Chinese at that time. And down, right in
front of me, rained a heap of flesh, appar-
ently out of the clear sky. An unsightly mass
of jelly — and that was all that was left of a
gallant gunner. The shot tore almost half
of the top away, and carried it into the
sea.

There was no occasion, really, for me to
get iiTitated. Surely I have lived in this
funny world long enough to find out that
smoke is the m.08t contrary-souled nuisance
in the world. But I wanted to see the re-
maining part of the military top. How about
Yamaji ? Was he there, that miracle of luck
who flew in the face of Providence every
chance he had ? I was anxious ; I wanted
to see; but the smoke said no. And there-
upon, how furiously mad I got.

At last I spied the ruin of the top. Not
a shadow of anything living or dead. Nat-
urally enough my eyes shot at the spot where
the half of the top jumped into the sea and
so foolishly drowned itself. There rose out
of the water, a little beyond the spot, a
head, then the shoulder, of a man. It was
Yamaji !

Frantic, forgetful even of my duty, of the
fire I was fighting, of the battle, of my life,
of everything, I rushed to a life-buoy. I cut
it, and with all my might I threw it toward
him. But the ship was passing fast.

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GOVERNOR ROOSEVELT-AS AN EXPERIMENT,

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In a corner of Aoyama Cemetery, on a honor, is the name of one of my friends,

plot where the sod is ever green, fenced in Beneath the name you can read (whenever

with a rail of iron taken from the wreck of you would like to go there, I will show it to

a Chinese man-of-war, there stands a marble you) this :

shaft. No one sleeps under it. Cut into ** Dedicated by his father to His Majesty,

the sheen of that stone, white as a samurai! s the Emperor of Japan."

GOVERNOR ROOSEVELT— AS AX EXPERIMENT.

INCIDENTS OF CONFLICT IN A TERM OF PRACTICAL POLITICS.

By J. Lincoln Steffens.

THEODORE ROOSEVELT'S career is a
practical experiment in politics. He
is aiming at success. If he were content to
be good, he would not stand out as he does
among the honest men who are known in
political life, bat who for the most part
maintain their personal purity by holding
aloof and exerting only so much influence as
is possible by arousing or directing public
opinion. Mr. Roosesrelt always has recog-
nized that he had not only to keep clean him-
self, but to get things done.

He hesitated once when he was an assem-
blyman. He became a leader in the House
during his first term, and he put through
several reform laws by forcing or persujS-
ing the party to take them up. In a subse-
quent term he was so influenced by his many
Mugwump friends that he stood out alone,
with a few followers to fight; just to fight.
This lasted only a few weeks, however. He
saw that he could accomplish nothing by per-
sonifying a universal protest ; so in he went
again to get things done, to put through all
that it was possible to force upon his party,
and his record in this legislature was a good
one.

When he returned from Cuba, the old ques-
tion arose in no very new form. Should he
stand out with the comparatively few so-
called independents and fight everything, or
should he join with the machine and as Gov-
ernor do things ? I told that story in the
May, 1899, number of this magazine ; and
the decision to accept the regular Republi-
can nomination and make his fight within the
party was recounted there with some of the
differences which were bound to come between
such a man and an organization. The ques-
tion raised then was, ** Would Mr. Roosevelt
succeed in doing the right thing always and
carrying the organization with him ? *' The
experiment was going on. It is still going

on. The first term of his governorship is
about over. What is the result ? To tell
what laws were passed would not signify,
from my point of view ; that is a matter of
mere local interest. It is the success or
failure of the man that is significant, be-
cause, not alone that he is honest and prac-
tical, but because people believe he is hon-
est ; and especially the politicians know this.
The only man I ever heard question it was
a notorious Tammany legislator; this is the
way he put it :

** Say, do you know the Governor's got the
best lay I ever seen in politics ? I don't see
why nobody thought of it before. It's dead
easy. He just plays the honesty game, and
see how it works! "

Thus even he did not really doubt Mr.
Roosevelt's honesty. He simply could not
rise to a point where he could grasp the idea
of sincerity. Life was a game, and hon-
esty was a pretty good trick to play ; that
was all.

The two years at Albany have been a
severe trial. There were no great pieces of
legislation up to attract popular enthusiasm
and help the (jovernor carry his will over the
machine's. Neither was there any important
executive act to give his position the force
of public feeling. It was a commonplace
term, and the fights were all quiet contests.
All the better for the present purpose. They
were within the organization, practical poli-
tics.

For there were fights. The Governor and
the organization clashed \yith dangerous fre-
quency ; and two or three times Mr. Roosevelt
and the leaders looked red into one another's
faces, lips tight and jaws set, separating as
if for good and all. But each time the Gov-
ernor won, the party leaders submitted, and
cooperation was resumed without any un-
pleasant recollections. Two of these dis-

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110

GOVERNOR ROOSEVELT— AS AN EXPERIMENT.

agreements, or * * splits, ' * as they were called,
will do here to tell the whole story.

Louis F. Payn was Superintendent of In-
surance when Mr. Roosevelt was elected.
He was a Republican grown old in the party ;
a friend of Senator Piatt, the State leader,
from the days when the Senator was a novice
in politics; and he had been appointed by
Governor Black, Mr. Roosevelt's Republican
predecessor. Mr. Payn had been a lobbyist
who did business on a grand scale, but his
friends said for him (he never speaks for
himself), that no matter what his past had
been, his administration of the Department
of Insurance was above reproach. He wanted
to stay. His term in oflSce expired on January
1, 1900, and he was glad the end came in the
middle of Mr. Roosevelt's term, because he
would like to have had the stamp of approval
which an honest man could put upon the
honest end of his life. The man with a past
seemed to be really proud of his virtuous
present.

The Governor laughed in a merry way he
has, and said that Mr. Payn would have to
go. Mr. Payn declared he meant to stay.
He didn't laugh, and the Governor didn't
laugh so much after that. It is known that
Roosevelt is a fighter. So is Lou Payn. He
is a surly, vindictive man, who knows no
limitations. There is a story that Senator
Piatt tried once to persuade Payn to ** let
up" on an enemy of theirs. Mr. Piatt
showed that it was good politics in this case
to forgive ; the enemy was a man of power
in his district. ** No, sir," said Payn, ** I
won't quit on that cuss while he stands above
ground." The Senator looked in the angry
face, and saw that this was true. ** That,"
he said, ** is the reason you are the leader
of only a small section of the country, Lou."

Payn fought at first very fairly. A flood
of petitions from the insurance companies
poured in asking the Governor to retain the
superintendent. They all endorsed his offi-
cial conduct. This did no good. The Gov-
ernor began to ask men to take Payn's place.
Payn saw the leaders. The leaders remon-
strated with the Governor, who answered
simply that Payn had to go. The Senate
would not confirm any successor, was the
answer. Payn had the Tammany senators,
and he had had personal relations with enough
Republican senators to make them stand by
him. Very well. The Governor answered that
he would name a man whom the Senate could
not fail to confirm, an ex-senator or some
good party man. This would have been hard
on the Senate, but he was told to go ahead.

He asked an ex-senator, and the Payn men
hustled around for a day; they laughed in
their sleeves. The ex-senator declined the
nomination. The party was squarely with
Payn, who felt safe enough to say to the
Governor that, if he would renominate him,
" old Lou Payn" would stand by the Gov-
ernor when, when — well, when Tom Piatt had
thrown Teddy Roosevelt over into the ditch.

The Governor sounded the Senate. The
Senate was sound for VsLja. He spoke plainly
to the leaders. They were plainly for Payn.
It was a solid front the enemy was showing,
but there was one weak place.

All right. The Governor said that if the
Senate wouldn't confirm a man in Fayn's
place, he would wait till the Senate ad-
journed ; then he would bring charges against
Payn, and put him on trial. What could he
charge ? What did he know — * * know ' ' mean-
ing prove ?

Well, for example, — about that time two
big Wall Street men were quarreling, and
one of them in a huff got some information
about a trust company his rival had a remote
interest in. The facts had been laid before
the Governor. Among the items was a very
large loan to Lou Payn by a prominent cor-
poration officer. It appeared that if charges
were made against Lou Payn quite a large
lot of miscellaneous trouble would be kicked
up for many more beside the Superintendent
of Insurance.

That was enough. The leaders asked for
that list of names the Governor had. He
brought it out again, unchanged, and the
first man on it was chosen, nominated, con-
firmed, installed. Mr. Payn said things pri-
vately about interminable war, but this fight
was won.

The next was less personal and far more
important. It brought the Governor into
conflict with the corporations, and only very
wise men can foresee the end ; some of them
say it is the end of Roosevelt.

The Governor has a notion that the way to
deal with ** capital" is to be fair. That
was the way also to deal with '* labor."
That was the best policy with all the big
things, as it was with the little things.

** If there should be disaster at the Croton
Dam strike," he said one day, when that diflS-
culty was beginning to disturb New York,
** I'd order out the militia in a minute. But
I'd sign an employer's liability law, too."

Half an hour later Major-General Roe tele-
graphed for troops, and he got leave in-
stantly to call out all he needed.

There is in the man contempt for the

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GOVERNOR ROOSEVELT-AS AN EXPERIMENT,

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demagogic cry against capital, and there is
in him also a fierce contempt for the dishon-
esty and grasping selfishness of capitalists.
So with labor. He would shoot into a mur-
derous mob with grim satisfaction, just as he
stood up for fair play for strikers in New
York when he was a police commissioner.

When he was elected Governor, he said pri-
vately that no corporation should get a priv-
ilege without paying the State for it, and
pretty soon he went on to the logical conclu-
sion that all corporations should pay for the
privileges they already had. They were not
paying their share of the taxes. They paid
on their buildings, real estate, cars, track-
age, etc., but not for their franchises. Mr.
Roosevelt broached the subject of a fran-
chise tax. Objections were raised, but not
much was said till the idea appeared in the
first draft of the message to the legislature
of 1899. Then the organization opposed it
strenuously.

Most of the corporations contribute largely
to the campaign funds of both political par-
ties in New York. Republicans never offer
any anti-capital legislation; the Democrats
offer a great deal, and intend none. The
Democratic position in the State is well un-
derstood. Most of the big Tammany men
are interested heavily in the local corpora-
tions, and their private secretaries sometimes
write the anti-trust, anti-capital planks. This
is all part of what our Tammany legislator
above quoted would call ** the game.''

The Republican organization presented
some good arguments against the franchise
tax paragraph in the Governor's message : the
difficulty of finding honest, expert assessors;
the lack of standards by which to determine
the value of such intangible property; the
danger in the future of hatefal taxation
which would be confiscation. The Governor
said these were all matters of skill. He
meant to be only jast, and he would consult
with the corporations about drawing up the
bill. But the leaders urged that there was no
public demand for such a tax ; and that the
party had promised nothing of the kind in the
platform. To these the Governor replied that
it would be all the wiser to legislate in these
matters quietly, without arousing any popu-
lar excitement like that which had been turn-
ing the West upside down, and he thought
that a piece of legislation against the abuses
of corporations, put through decently in a
"capitalist State" of New York's wealth
by the Republican party, would be a good
example to set to the ** crank " States, which,
like Tammany, shouted mightily and did noth-

ing, or wanted to hit ** money " out of spite,
envy, and ignorance.

The difference of opinion grew to a "split."
The period of reason was past, and the state
of war was declared. For a while it looked
as if all legislation and all appointments
would be involved. But the organization
chose another course. The Governor might
present his message if he would, but the
legislature should not heed that part of it
which advised a franchise-tax law. The mes-
sage was sent in, and the corporations began
to move. They were told by Mr. Roosevelt
that they might have a voice, if they wished,
in the (kawing of the bill. This invitation
was public, and it was perfectly understood.

** Yes, I saw it in the paper," said one
corporation officer, ** but I guess we won't
have to see the Governor."

They saw the organization. They had a
man at Albany, the regular man, to watch
the bill, and it was said that he had a quar-
ter of a million dollars to beat it with. He
saw it introduced, referred, ** put to sleep."
He reported it dead, killed by the organiza-
tion, so that he did not have to spend a cent.

** I haven't drawn a contract on it," he
said, meaning that he had not even promised
to pay anything to legislators to vote against
it. " It's a dead duck. I listened to the
heart of it, and there wasn't a flutter."

The Governor worried a little. He talked
a great deal to legislators one by one, two
by two. Pretty soon he was cheerful. He
talked to the organization about it. Then
he was ^ngry. He saw the leaders of the
party in the House and Senate. ** Orders
were orders," they said, and they could do
nothing.

One day, toward the end of the session,
soon after the watchman in the lobby had
given his expert opinion on the state of the
bill, the Governor, finding he could not get
it out of committee otherwise, sent in a
special message. The ** steering commit-
tee " would have to report it out if that was
read. The word flew about from man to
man, the message was there at the Speaker's
desk; there, too, were the orders. What
could be done ? Somebody seemed to recall
the exact phrasing of the orders.

This somebody tore the message up— ap
unprecedented piece of audacity; it was
worse : it was' a political mistake. The cool
heads were shocked. Suppose the Gov-
ernor should appeal to public opinion with
his torn message in his hand ! The Speaker
became ill, and went home for a day. The
watchman out in the lobby was in a fine

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AT THE DOVELYSy

frenzy. Perhaps he was sorry then that he
had no contracts drawn. He ran to tele-
phone to New York ; he flew back, and began
sending page boys to legislators. The sweat
rolled off his face and head.

The Governor drew down his upper lip to
bite at his mustache, as he does when he is
in a rage. Then he saw, as the Assembly
leaders had seen, and he laughed. He dic-
tated another message, and had that deliv-
ered at the Speaker's desk. The Speaker
received it; it was read; it was heeded.
The steering committee reported the bill,
and both houses passed it ; the sweating
watchman with his contracts had come to
the rescue too late.

This woke up the corporations, and they
began to respond to the Governor's invita-
tion to see hiiti. They had suggestions to
offer, amendments, but it was too late. The
bill was before the Governor, and the legis-
lature had adjourned. It was a ridiculous'
situation. The usual hearing was given.
Some of the corporations had their lawyers
on hand to argue their side. Even this was
not in vain. They did succeed in persuading
the Governor that the bill was imperfect,
and should not be signed as it stood. Would
he let it drop and have another bill intro-
duced next year ? No, he said, with some
humor; he could not very well do that.
Would he call an extra session ? He would
consider that. He decided that it would be
fair and worth while. Then he need not
sign this bill ? Well, he thought that, all
things considered, he had better sign this
bill, so that he would be sure of having some-
thing to show when all was over. More-
over, with a franchise law on the books, the
amendments to be suggested would prob-
ably be more acceptable to him. The extra
session was called, a few amendments were

adopted, but these changes were so un-
satisfactory to the corporations that they
are going to fight the law in the highest
courts.

What is the result ? The organization
doesn't like Mr. Roosevelt as Governor,
neither does "Lou" Payn, neither do the
corporations. The corporations cannot come
out openly to fight him; they have simply
served notice on the organization that if he
is renominated they will not contribute to
campaign funds. But the organization can-
not refuse to renominate him, for he has said
openly that he wants to finish up his work :
levy the franchise tax, see to the amend-
ment, keep in a fair board of assessors, etc.
And besides, he has marked the administra-
tion as his, so that for the party to fail to
honor him again would be to repudiate its
own work.

For the politicians the obvious solution of
the problem would be to promote hun to a
place where there would be nothing for him
to do but be good. The Vice-Presidency is
just the thing. But Mr. Roosevelt wants
work, not a soft place ; and he would refuse
the nomination. But inasmuch as the organi-
zations of all the States are equally interested
in getting rid of such a man, the policy
would be to work up a wave of popular en-
thusiasm which should roll up from the West
and Southwest a nomination by acclamation
in the convention of his party. This he
could not refuse, and thus it might seem
that the people had shelved the colonel of
the Rough Riders in the most dignified and
harmless position in the gift of his country.
Then everybody could say, ** W^e told you
so," for both the theorists and the politi-
cians have said that it is impossible in
practical politics to be honest and successful
too.

AT THE DOVELYS'.

A PRESENT-DAY LOVE STORY.
By Sewell Ford.

WHEN you have a nice new home in
the country — one with a porie cocKtre,
an outside chimney, and a fireplace in the
reception hall — you develop a desire to
have your friends come to see you. The
Dovelys did. It was a question of who
next.

** No more cooing young people for a

while," said Dovely. ** They make me feel

old."

**I rather like that kind," said Mrs.

Dovely ; ** but it shall be as you say. You

Bz\i a man, and I'll find a girl."

** Yes, and they'll be flirting in two hours."

** Not if you get the right kind."

*' Well, I'll hunt up Brackett Marsh, then."

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AT THE DOVELYS\

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'Ms he nice?"

** He has kept out of jaU ever since Tve
known him."

*' Oh, Fred, you know what I mean."

**I suppose I do. Then he isn't. He
sometimes forgets to tell the young woman
he meets for the first time that she has the
profile of a Gibson girl. He dances badly.
He doesn't do tricks with cards. He never
wants to cook things in a chafing-dish. He
hasn't sende enough to know that he ought
to be playing golf instead of visiting charity
patients and attending clinics. But he is a
niighty good fellow, and we used to be
chums."

**That means that you'll spend the day
smoking and talking of old times. Well,
ask him out for over Sunday. I'll write to
Calla Winthrop."

** To what class does Calla belong ? Is she
a good fellow ?"

** She is not. She is a young woman with
an aim in life. You mustn't tease her, Fred.
Her bump of humor is in her chin — and it's
a dimple."

'* I suppose she wears glasses and has the
grace of a broom-stick."

** The idea! She was the prettiest girl in
our class. If you rave over her hafr I shall
be jealous."

So k was arranged. Mr. Dovely hunted
up Marsh in the city, and made him promise.
Mrs. Dovely's letter to Calla was urgent, and
brought an acceptance.

The Dovelys were to meet them at the
6.53 on Saturday night. But when the be-
lated commuters dropped by Number Eleven
at Willowbank had scuttled oflf into the dark-
ness of the suburb, two persons were left on
the station platform. One was a broad-
shouldered young man. This was Marsh.
The other was a tall young woman in a tailor
suit and a fur boa — Miss Winthrop. They
seemed to be looking for some one. Twice
they had paced past each other, carrying
their dress-suit cases, when the station agent
came out. He had turned out the lights,
and he locked the waiting-room door behind
him. He was going home. Both started
for him. The young woman, being nearer,
won. Marsh fell back, waiting and alert.
He saw the agent wave some directions.
The young woman started oflf . Then his turn
came. Would the gentleman direct him to
the home of Mr. Dovely ?

"Just follow the lady, sir. She's gcing
there," and off went the hungry ticket-man.

Marsh took the advice. It was a brisk
pace she was setting, but he was soon in

close pursuit and reviewing a most interest-
ing compound fracture that had come in that
morning. The house surgeon had some hopes
that amputation might be necessary. If so,
he had promised to make Marsh his first as-
sistant in the work. He would be back in
time. What, another turning ? He wished
he could get hold of a tibia and relocate the
exact spot at which

" Young man, are you following me ? "

Eh ? What was this ? Here was a young
woman under a street lamp. She was look-
ing sharply at him. Oh, yes ! The one who
was going to the Dovelys'.

" See here, are you following me ? "

'* Why, yes," said Marsh simply.

" Then you'd better stop it."

" Of course ; certainly. No, no ! I don't
mean that. The man at the station, you
know; he told me to."

*' Indeed?"

" Yes, he said you were going to the
Dovelys' . So api I . I hope I did not f righ ten
you ? I beg your pardon."

** It isn't necessary; I am not timid. Do
I understand that you are to be a guest
there?"

*'Iam; and you?"

**Also. I am Miss Winthrop." Marsh
raised his hat and told his name. ** Now,"
said Miss Winthrop, '* I think it will look
better if we walk together the rest of the
way — unless you prefer shadowing me."

* * I waive all preferences," he said. * * May
I carry your bag ?"

Miss Winthrop felt quite able to carry it
herself. She added that the Dovelys' house
was the third on the right from the comer.
They walked on in silence. It was awkward.
Marsh searched his mind in vain for a safe
topic. Being taken for a highwayman had
scattered his wits. Besides, there was little
in the manner of the young woman to invite
friendly talk. The third house on the right
shone vividly against the background of
night. Streaming out over the snow came
the glow from many gas-jets and several big
lamps.

** It appears that we are not to be the
only guests," suggested Miss Winthrop.

** Looks like a house party or something
of the sort." Marsh scented a social even-
ing. ** Will you please wait a moment ?"
Marsh stopped under the street light, and
fished a time-table from his pocket. He
saw a chance of escape.

* * It's no use," said Miss Winthrop. * ' The
next train down is at 11.13, and stops only
on signal: I looked that up."

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114

AT THE DOVELYS'

** But 1 might wait on the platform."

*' And freeze. Besides, I should tell Mr.
Dovely, and he would go after you.*'

'' And bring me back like a bashful school-
boy ; you're right." Marsh picked up his bag.

'* I think we should have an understanding
first," said Miss Winthrop. Marsh dropped
the bag. *' Were you told anything about
the other guests ?"

** No. I imagined I was to be the only
one."

*' So did I. This is Kittie's work. Can
you guess why we have been asked out here ? ' *

'' Vm afraid not."

** Of course you can't. Well, it was prob-
ably that we might meet each other. We
are expected to be entertainingly silly. We
are supposed to begin by being very distant
and formal, and end by giggling together in
a corner, behind a book. liOt me tell you
now that I do not propose to do anything so
ridiculous. I hope you will not expect it of
me.

** I'm sure I shall not."

** Very well, then, let us go on. I'm cold
and hungry."

Dovely himself came to the door. He
wore an ulaler, a cap, and overshoes. To
Mar^h, who was in the van, he said: '' Well,
you've come at last. It's about — Oh,
Urackett, it's you! I thought it was the
plumber. I had forgotten. Ah, somebody
with you?"

'* This is Miss Winthrop."

** Great Scott! I mean — delighted. Come
in and — and keep your things on. We're in
trouble."

Mrs. Dovely they found shivering over a
gas'log in the drawing-room. She was
wrapped in a floor rug, and was wearing
her furs. She had been crying, too.

Dovely summed up the situation: ** Hot-
water heating pipes burst in three places,
cold-water pipes frozen solid, waterback in
the range a wreck, and every plumber in
town with more work than he can do in a
month. How did it happen ? We went into
the city for a few dajrs and let the servants
off. Got back this morning, and have been
freezing ever since. Gas-jets, 1 find, give
out heat only in summer."

''Then the illumination was not in our
honor ? " put in Marsh.

** My dear fellow, we hadn't thought about
you once. Our miseries have kept us too
busy. But I'm going to ask you to stay
and share them You don't have to accept,
though."

Marsh had quickly taken stock of the im-

mediate future. He had already passed judg-
ment on Miss Winthrop. This tall girl with
the hair like polished copper he did not like.
She had too much of superiority and inde-
pendence in her manner. Besides, she had
not only taken him for a robber, but had
suspected him of wanting to flirt with her.
** As well flirt with a pink icicle," thought
Marsh. She would go back on the late train.
If he went it would be in her company. He
shivered at the prospect.

'* I am going to stay," he announced
promptly.

'* So am I," said Miss Winthrop. '* I am
going to see that Kittle does not freeze."
She had a fine sense of duty.

'* It's so good of you," said Mrs. Dovely
weakly. ''How nice that you should get
acquainted on the way out here."

The humor of the situation suddenly ap-
pealed to Marsh. *' Oh, we flirted outrag-
eously all the time," he said. " Miss Win-
throp has already had to warn me."

" Mr. Marsh," protested Miss Winthrop.

" Didn't you tell me at the comer you
would positively refuse to sit with me and
giggle behind a book ? "

"Yes, but "

** You see, Mrs. Dovely."

** Why, Calla ! How you have changed ! "

Mrs. Dovely almost forgot her half-con-
gealed condition. Marsh noted the indignant
flush on Miss Winthrop*s cheeks. So did
Mrs. Dovely. "Actually blushing," she
thought. "And Calla Winthrop, of all
girls!"

Meanwhile Dovely was looking at his friend
with a quizzical expression. Marsh favored
him with a wink. Miss Winthrop saw it,
and bit her lip.

" Mr. Marsh is pleased to be humorous at
my expense, Kittie. Please do not take him
seriously. Now let us see what is to be
done. Have you had dinner ? "

" Dinner! Not unless you call sardines
and crackers dinner. Miss Mary McClink,
our cook that was, left before noon. ' Sure
an' I'm no Eskimo,' were her last words.
Miss Ollie Swenson, the maid, followed on the
next train." Mrs. Dovely ended by pulling
the rug closer around her. The movement
was eloquent of despair.

" Never mind, Kittie. I'm going to see
what can be done in the kitchen."

" Cannot I be of some help, too ? " asked
Marsh.

" Possibly, if "

** If I promise not to squeeze your hand?
I promise," said Marsh.

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115

Then Miss Winthrop, who had learned all
sorts of domestic science at college and who
had practised housekeeping in her home mis-
sion work, began to make things move. She
showed the men how to disconnect the water-
back so that a fire might be built in the
range; she discovered that the fancy fire-
place in the dining-room was really practi-
cal, and under her direction Marsh soon had
a cheerful fire blazing behind the shiny tiling.
By this time she had some water boiling, and
she superintended the thawing of the cold-
water pipes. By nine o'clock the dining-
room table was set, and there were nicely
broiled chops, baked potatoes, tea, and pre-
serves ready.

'* Calla, where did you learn to do such
things?'' asked Mrs. Dovely- But Miss
Winthrop only smiled in her calm way.

It was a jolly meal. Afterward the men
said they would help with the dishes. Then
Mr. Dovely thought he might catch his
plumber, and went out. Mrs. Dovely offered
to help, but confessed her ignorance. She
was told to stay by the fireplace and thaw.
So Miss Winthrop and Marsh undertook the
task.

** Did you ever wipe dishes, Mr. Marsh ? "
demanded Miss Winthrop.

'* Tm an expert,'* said Marsh.

** Where did you learn?''

** In Poverty Row; that is what we called
our barracks at college. We boarded our-
selves, you see."

**0h," said Miss Winthrop. ** There's
a towel. Now what shall I give you
first?"

'*The glasses, please. They polish best
when hot."

'* You do know something about it, don't
you?"

" It is always so pleasant to be believed —
after you have proved your statements."

** That's sarcasm, isn't it? There! I
haven't rolled up my sleeves." Miss Win-
throp looked at her dripping hands and then
at her silk waist.

'* Let me do it," said Marsh.

This distinctly disagreeable young woman,
he allowed himself to note, had arms which
were rather plump and graceful. In trying
not to notice them he looked into her eyes.
She met the glance steadily. ** Now, don't
be silly, Mr. Marsh," she said.

It was his turn to flush, and he did it.
However, he rallied quickly. »

** I couldn't help it. You shouldn't en-
courage me."

*'Why. Mr. Marsh!"

*' It's the way you look at me. Surely I
saw you wink then."

**I? Iwink?"

**0h, that's the way they all talk; the
bigger the flirt the greater the saint she
pretends to be. There, you almost broke
a glass."

** You are trjring to tease me now."

** Not for the world. My one desire is to
wipe these dishes as soon as possible and get
away before you lead me into any further
nonsense. I shall be calling you ' Dearie '
next."

** Mr. Marsh, don't you think this is very
light talk?"

** Deplorably so. Miss Winthrop. But as
long as you lead, I must follow. I am so
easily influenced. Now for the silver. Did
you mean for me to take your hand then ? "

Miss Winthrop was just boxing Mr. Marsh's
ears when Mrs. Dovely entered the kitchen.

*'Hity-tity! What is this?" she ex-
claimed. ** I guess a chaperon is needed
here."

" You're right, Mrs. Dovely," said Marsh,
wiping away the traces left by Miss Win-
throp's wet fingers. ** We've been flirting
again."

*' Kittie," said Miss Winthrop, *' he's just
dreadful."

Mrs, Dovely was evidently highly amused.
" I have always understood," she said, '* that
it took two to get up a flirtation or a quar-
rel."

** But this has been neither one nor the
other," protested Miss Winthrop.

** It looked like both," said Mrs. Dovely.

Well, that is the way it began. You can
imagine the progression. It is not neces-
sary to tell how, during the next two days —
for Sunday it snowed and Monday they were
blizzard-bound —the affair developed. That
which had been at first mere word fencing
between tw^o stranger natures took the form
of a mutual jest.

Now a mutual sorrow is always a bond be-
tween people. It bridges many chasms. So
does a mutual jest ; only in the latter case
the bond is much stronger. You may weep
alone, but you need some one to help you
when you laugh.

Calla Winthrop saw at last the humor of
Marsh's attitude, and came to appreciate it
keenly. He had developed her latent sense
of the absurd. In his turn, Brackett Marsh
enjoyed the unusual role of jester. He had
often envied in others the knack of relaxing
tight-shut lips by mirth. So Mrs. Dovely
caught them smiling at each other, and wisely

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116

THE RELEASE OF BENJAMIN CUDl).

put it down as a case of what she called
*' love at first sight."

Tuesday the blockade was lifted. They
were wading through the banked snow to
the station when Marsh stopped at the first
corner. ** It was here, Dovely, right under
this lamp, that she began flirting with me,"
he said.

** Oh, no," said Miss Winthrop, ** it was
before that. It was when I pretended to

think you were a highwayman, but you didn't
see it then."

** Do you know, Fred, I feel proud of that
match," said Mrs. Dovely when she handed
her husband the cards six months later.

'*Kittie," said Dovely, '* you're a won-
der."

** Now," mused Mrs. Dovely afterward,
** what do you suppose he meant by that ? "

THE RELEASE OF BENJAMIN Cl'DD.

By Tiohe Hopkins,

Aatlior ot " Miss Culkuder'i* Lamb/' ** A Tale of a Tub," '* A» It Fill Out," etc.

A STORY OF A PRISONER WHO LOOKKD FOR A ''FREE PARDW/'

KE chaplain was a rather
noisy preacher, with a
habit of sudden pauses
where no pause was ex-
pected. Prisoners ad-
dicted to talking in chapel
watched nervously for the
stopping of the " Croak-
er's " voice, and the >varders kept their own
lookout, for reasons connected with disci-
pline. The oldest and cleverest lags, men
who could jabber glibly with jaws almost

rigid, were very apt to be caught, for the
warders' seats were raised some two feet
above the convicts' ; and by the quick, in-
stinctive closing of a pair of lips beneath
you, it was easily guessed that their owner
had been breaking the rules. The governor,
Captain Lambert - " old (ringertail " to the
convicts, from the end of red bandana that
hung from his tail pocket the week round —
occupied the one pew in the gallery, which
^'as as good as a conning tower, and the chief
warder had a tall perch in the comer facing

(N.p>rlj:ht, 181»9. by tlio S. S. Mci'liire Co. All rijjlitj* rvM-rv.tl.

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THE RELEASE OF BENJAMIN CUDD.

117

the pulpit, 80 that, observed from every
point, felonry lacked no excuse for minding
its devotions.

Of course, mistakes were made, but official
mistakes are bad to rectify in prison, and the
man who was accused, rightly or wrongly, of
talking in church generally got the worst
of it. In some cases it was a moderately safe
charge to lay, and most warders had a fixed
idea that you couldn't go wrong with Benja-
min Cudd. Cudd was talking in church
again ; if he wasn't talking, he had just
left off ; if he hadn't just left off, he was
just going to begin ; put him down for
report.

So, when Cudd was brought up as usual on
Monday morning, the governor, as usual, was
nasty to him.

"One of these days, pretty soon," said
the governor, " I shall be putting you back
for an interview with the visiting jus-
tice."

The governors of her Majesty's prisons
have no power to inflict the " cat," that being
the exclusive privilege of the visiting jus-
tice, who comes once a month. An interview
with him is generally good for two or three
dozen at the triangles.

The prisoner, standing at attention, his
arms close to his sides, and the palms of his
hands outwards, rolled his big, dull -eyes, and
made no reply. Perhaps he thought it hardly
worth while to state that he had not been
talking.

"Fine of forty-eight marks," continued
the governor, "and No. 3 diet for a
week."

Forty-eight marks represent the total of
six days* earnings at what government calls
" steady hard labor," and the loss of them
at a stroke meant, in effect, one week longer
of penal sen^tude. If you think that a week
more or less is unimportant in a sentence of
seven years, wait until you come to notch
the days off one by one in a cell seven feet
by four, with six inches of the sky of liberty
mocking you through the slit above.

Cudd stayed a moment to see if the gov-
ernor were giving away anything else that
morning ; then one of his grotesquely long
arms went slowly up to the salute, and his
warder marched him off to cells. Cudd said
nothing, and the warder said nothing, eti-
quette being strictly observed on occasions
of punishment. If Cudd had sworn, the
wiu'der would have been pleased, though he
would probably not have reported it. Not a
word was said at the door of Cudd's cell,
where Monday's dinner of beef and onions

was waiting for him. He left the tin at the
door, and passed in. The dinner-hour was
half over, but No. 3 diet — a pint and a half
of stirabout— which was handed in to him
five minutes later — is easily wolfed. Then
the victim of discipline planted his stool
against the wall, and sat down to consider
things.

Almost as long as he could remember,
Benjamin had been in trouble. Though he
yearned for freedom, which was four bitter
years behind and three in front of him, he
had not made much better weather of it out
of prison than he usually did as a lag. His
extraordinary appearance when he stood with
his party on parade (between handsome Bir-
mingham Alf, the prince of thieves, and long
Dicky the Dean, whose line was preaching at
street comers while his girl lifted the " poges,"
or purses, of the congregation) proclaimed
him a man whom nature had condemned to
fail in crime. He was the smallest creature
in the prison, with a head many sizes too
large for him, great staring eyes, ears like
sails, and such a reach of arm that, standing
erect, he could almost touch his knees with
his finger tips. Benjamin was a "hook,"
that is to say, he got his living by the com-
moner kinds of filching ; and race-courses,
fairs, and all uncanopied green marts were
his peculiar lay. But in every place where
" hooks " do congregate, that figure of ridi-
cule inevitably drew^ the scrutiny of " cop-
pers," " tecs," and " narks," * and Benjamin
was smugged — which is nabbed — where
"hooks" less cruelly defeatured roamed
unmolested. Besides his luck, which was
generally awful, he was not what the gang
call a " wide," or smart, man, and they were
rather shy of working with him. He had
palled at one time or another with busters
and screw8,t toy getters, % broadsmen, § snide-
pi tchers, II men at the duff,l[ and skittle sharps
— a pretty wide crew, who " used to use at "
a public in the Lane ** — but his partnerships
had rarely survived a job or two ; and for
years Benjamin had padded the hoof alone,
the f orlomest " hook " in England. Then, in
an hour of inexcusable conceit, he aspired to
burglary — Benjamin, the plain " hook " —
which was his undoing. The chat ft was an
easy one to empty, and Benjamin was walking
off at dawn with the wedge $t in the kipsy §§
on his back, so pleased with his cleverness
that, when he piped the reeler round the
double, nil he forgot that he was trudging with-

• Police BplM«. tBurjtlarp. ^ Watch Btea lore. $Card
Bharpere. ; Ctterera of false money^ 5 Paselnfc false
jewelry. ♦♦ Petticoat Lane

\i Basket.

)K fall
tf House. XX 811 ve^
i\ Saw the policeman at the cornerv^

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118

THE RELEASE OF BENJAMIN CUDD.

out his daisy-roots, * and that the James t was
sticking out of one pocket and the screws %
bulging in another. He was so much ashamed
of himself that he declined to plead "not
guilty " at his trial. Two years would have
met the case, six months would have shown
that the judge was disposed to reform by
kindness ; but the Recorder was a believer in
cumulative sentences for old offenders, and
Benjamin, whose record in the Criminal
Register filled a quarter of a page in small
type, was lagged for seven. It was his ninth
sentence, and his second of penal servitude.
He was just thirty-nine.

Meanwhile, Benjamin was still with his
back to the wall of his cell, his little legs
stretched out in front of him, trying in his
stupid way to set the account right between
the governor and himself. He was puzzle-
headed over it. The warder who had laid the
illusory charge he took no account of. He
had lied against the warder on occasion, and
this might be a fair move in the game. But
the governor was a kind of Pope to the de-
formed and half-witted hook, and it seemed
to him that this high authority should detect
a warder's lie on the instant. The ugly sal-
low of his skin burned to purple, and began
to change from purple into black. He was
comino; slowly to think that if the governor
failed him, there was nothing to keep on for.
He had badgered the warders till he was will-
ing to accept any reprisals at their hands ;
and being reckoned among the convicts as a
man with no luck, he was as shunned and
lonely in the prison as he had been out of it.
He had half reckoned that if he had held his
tongue when he was charged, the governor
would see through it, and set him right.

He heard the warder coming down the
hall, unlocking the cells to turn the men out
for afternoon labor. His own door was
switched open.

" Now, then ! " said the warder.

Cudd's misshapen face was black to the
ears ; he rose with a scream, picked up his
stool and smashed it against the wall of his
cell. Then, before he could be held, he ripped
his jacket at the throat and tore it into
shreds. The warder blew his whistle, and
rushed on him, but Cudd fell inert, crying
like a child.

It is written in the Rules that a prisoner
who breaks the furniture or makes ribbons
of his clothing may l>e punished with the
** cat." Benjamin had commit!^ both these
crimes at once» and of all forms of retribu-

« B(M>tS.

f I'ruwbor.

X S«<lrto|| Icvjs.

tion, in or out of prison, the " cat " was the
one he dreaded most. Just at that time
there walked, or shuffled, at the rear of Ben-
jamin's w ork party a man whose ankles were
hampered by cross-irons, and who wore a par-
ticolored dress of black and drab ; he had
come under the whip for pitching a brick at
a warder, and Benjamin was sure that the
whites of the man's eyes had turned yellow
since his punishment.

So he sat and quaked in a dark cell not his
own, and wondered when the visiting justice
would come. Since his tantrum on the pre-
vious day he was decorated in quite a new
style. The ridiculous little figure looked
more than ever ridiculous muffled in the suit
of No. 1 navy canvas, which is the particular
badge of the destroyer of clothing. Then,
since he had done wanton violence to the
furniture of his cell, it was reasonably urged
that in another fit he might turn hi^ hands
against himself (and in the darkness of the
punishment cell sudden crises of madness will
sometimes come), so the Iwdy belt had been
added to the canvas suit. The body belt,
weighing about four pounds, is of double
leather sewn together, and fastened by a lock
round the waist, with steel wristlets at the
sides, in which Benjamin's wrists were se-
cured. Belted and handcuiftd, and cased in
canvas, he sat in the dark, terrified, waiting
for the coming of the man who had power
over the "cat."

But the man came on this very day, and
held his court and went away, and Benjamin
was not set before him.

All night he lay on a plank on the broad of
his back, still held by the wrists, wide awake,
saying to himself, " I wonder if he'll co;ne to-
morrer ? "

No light came with the day, but Benjamin
knew it was breakfast time when a loaf of
brown bread was pushed in through the trap
in the door. He thou'^fht of the other pris-
oners turning out for the day, putting their
cells to rights, and being mustered for chapel.
Oh, what happiness to be rolling out of one's
hammock, hands free, and nothing worse to
expect than the day's routine on the works !
Those other chaps had nothing to complain
of ; no one had anything to complain of who
was not waiting to he brought before the vis-
iting justice. By and by the door was un-
Icfcked but he knew it was too early yet for
the summons that was always singing in his
ear.

" Like a stroll, my boy ? " said the warder.
"Come along o' me."

Ben'amin understood that he was to be

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THE RELEASE OF BENJAMIN CUDD.

119

exercised, and he went after the warder,
blinking in the daylight, into a small, high-
walled yard, empty and perfectly bare. Here
prisoners undergoing special punishment
were brought for an hour^s exercise in the
morning, one at a time ; and here Benjamin
trudged to and fro under the eye of the
warder, who stood stiffly against the iron
wicket. It was a stinging forenoon of mid-
October, not a gleam from the ashen sky.
The warder had his top coat on, but Benja-
min's No. 1 canvas let the cold in, and his
pinioned wrists felt numb.

Every time he passed the warder he looked
at him furtively ; he wanted to ask if the
visiting justice were coming that day, but he
had never had to do with this warder, and
was afraid to speak. He had not slept, he
had not tasted his bread, he was dull and
weak and cold, and the fear almost paralyzed
him.

The rules being what they are, an officer
of the prison can do little for a prisoner
under special punishment ; but Benjamin's
warder — a married man, with children whom
he doted on — observed the color of his wrists.
He had bought his youngest a pair of wool-
len mittens the night before.

"Hold on," he said.

Benjamin stood dumbly, and the warder
went up to him.

" Cold at the wrists, ain't you ? " said he,
and Benjamin looked and nodded.

" It wouldn't be much harm if you answered
civil," jerked the warder, " but you're in for
a dose of it this time" — Benjamin quaked
again — " and I can make allowances."

While speaking he had been unlocking
the wristlets, and Benjamin's arms were sud-
denly free.

" There ! " said the warder, " now clap your
hands to your sides and do a trot. You'll be
warm all right soon. Law, man, you ain't so
bad ! You might be in the leg-irons. Now
do a bit of a double round the yard."

Benjamin was still voiceless, but his gog-
gle eyes held a kind of gratitude.

" Time's up ! " called the warder presently.
" Slip your dukes in again, my lad," and Ben-
jamin, strangely and wonderfully obedient,
thrust his hands and wrists through the steel
circlets.

" Take my advice and stow that toke," said
the warder, pointing to the loaf of bread that
had tumbled from the trap-door to the floor
of the cell. " Want to see the doctor ? "

" Don't send the doctor ! Don't send me
the doctor, sir ! " said Benjamin very quick.
** I'm all right, sir, an' thenk you, sir."

" Law, man ! The doctor ain't the visit-
ing justice," said the warder.

No, he wasn't ; but he came just before
him, when the " cat " was threatening. The
doctor had to sound you, and punch you, and
probe you, and feel your pulse and heart, to
make sure that you were fit for it. Benja-
min had often sent for the doctor, when he
wanted to try a fake on him and fetch the
farm ; * but he didn't wish for him now.

The doctor came, however.

" Medical orf cer ! " said the warder, as he
threw the door open ; and Benjamin scram-
bled up to attention, frightened almost to
sickness.

" Let's have a look at you ! " said the doc-
tor. "Come out here into the corridor.
Take his wrists out of the bracelets. Now,
stand up square, and no kid."

Among the lags, the doctor was the most
popular officer in prison, but he had never
been known to let a man oflf who was sound
for the " cat."

He jerked up Benjamin's chin, felt his
pulse, and sounded him over the heart. Ben-
iamin could almost hear the chief warder's
^' One! "for the first stroke of the "cat,"
governor and doctor standing by, and the man
with the whip measuring his distance.

" Sleep last night ? " said the doctor.

"No, sir."

" Eaten your bread ?"

"No, sir."

"What's your game?"

Except for his terror, Benjamin would have
whimpered something, but the terror kept
him dumb.

The doctor knew that he was expecting to
be flogged, and saw that he was silly from ex-
cess of fright.

" Take the belt off," he said to the warder.

Benjamin thought they were getting him
ready for the triangles, and his great head
wagged foolishly on his little body as he
said :

" 'As 'e come, sir?"

"Who? "said the doctor.

" You know, sir — the visitin' justice."

" Yes ; he's come and gone."

Benjamin's knees knocked. " Oh, sir ! "
he cried. " Don't play with me. Ain't I go-
in' to get bashed ? "

"You're in luck again, Benjy !" said the
doctor, as he turned out of the cell.

Benjamin glimmered at the warder. Was
prison such a heaven as this ?

"You *eard 'im say it, sir, didn't you ? " he
said.

* Get Into hospital, the convict's paradise.

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THE RELEASE OF BENJAMIN CUDD.

But now that the tension was over, the
warder was on duty.

" Sit down, my lad, and eat your bread,"
said he.

When the door was locked again, Benja-
min groped on the floor for his loaf of bread,
and carried it to his plank bed, and mumbled
it greedily. He had never felt so happy in
his life. In the evening a mattress and a
bolster were thrown in to him, and then came
a cup of hot cocoa, good fat stuff, and Ben-
jamin wished, in the black stone cell, that he
might never get out of prison.

Perhaps no one had ever quite such a nar-
row squeak of it. But the governor had well
and truly pondered that dark and stunted
case, and had decided not to put Benjamin
back for the visiting justice. Benjamin had
given " old Gingertail " (a shocking name for
one of the smartest and best-looking men in
the service) a great deal of trouble ; but he
thought there was probably something at the
back of that moment's fury, for in his right
senses — as far as his senses were ever right
— this lag had always been very wary in
offence. The governor could seldom be cer-
tain that he got the naked truth from a
warder who reported a troublesome prisoner,
and when the prisoner rebelled under a sen-
tence which wavS not excessive as the penal-
ties of the prison went, the governor had his
private mind upon the matter. He knew that
nearly any warder who had had charge of
Benjamin would report him for almost any-
thin;?, but he remembered also that Benjamin
had generally taken his punishment, if not
like a lamb, at least unlike a tiger. So it
was that, the case being weightily consid-
ered of the governor, Benjamin was not set
before the visiting justice, in which event,
had the doctor passed him, he would certainly
have g«)t the order to strip.

But the bark of Benjamin the lucky was
yet a long, long way from shore. If he had
bi»en a day and a night iij hell, he was now
to l)e translated to purgatory.

They took him out of chokey, but only to
immure him in a ** special/* which is just one
remove in quality from the den he had spent
that night of terror in. But Benjamin had
been in the specials l)efore, and entereii
briskly, without giving cheek. He wiis in
li)ve with the prison just then, and only
thought what a good, kind man the governor
was.

*• I can do speshuls all right enough." he
said to himself.

Specials, nevertheless, want a good deal

of '* doing," as Benjamin might have remem-
bered, if he had not been in such a sweet
state of mind. They don't let you speak
ever such a little word in the specials, and
woe betide if you are caught trying to tele-
graph through the wall. Then the graft*
in specials is very unlovely. In your own
cell, if you have a bit of oakum-picking to
do, they give you a little thing called a fid-
dle to ravel it out with ; in the specials you
get oakum varied with crank most of the
time, and the picking is done with the un-
assisted dukes. Exercise is not much bet-
ter than graft, for in the penal class— which
was Benjamin's at present- there's never a
creature to look at in the yard except the
screw, t and he is not often a ** soft " one.
For a long sentence in the specials, the
diet is generally No. 2: eight ounces of
bread for breakfast, a pint of stirabout
for dinner, and eight ounces of bread for
supper.

All this is very chastening after a time,
but Benjamin sat over his oakum day by day
through hard October, and still said to himseLf
that he could *' do speshuls right enough.''
The world of felonry wagged on all round
him, but not an echo of it found his ear;
they give you in the specials the very fullest
benefit of your own society.

When Benjamin stated, quite politely, and
not at all as a grievance, that his fingers
were getting raw with the oakum, they put
him on the crank.

He had been deprived of his book from the
library, and that was something of a loss,
for he had chanced on a work called the
** Popular Educator," which had a lot of
lovely pictures, including a cut of Bamet
Fair, where he had spent some glorious
hours.

.He had his books of devotion, to be sure ;
but lienjamin was not a pious man, and his
reading, when there were no pictures, vas
principally an exercise in spelling. He had,
moreover, been disappointed in the Bible,
l^ng Dicky the Dean had whispered him on
the works some remarkable stories which
purported to be Sacred Writ, and in his cell
one ni^ht, before lights were turned out,
Benjamin had spelled over some passages of
Scripture, regarding it as an improper book.
But his curiosity was defeated, and as he re-
turned the volume to the shelf he thought
what a slap-up wide man the Dean must be
to finii such nuggets in the Bible. Perhaps
-and this seemed likely — the Dean had made
a private Bible for himself.

• IjilK»r. t Wiirtler.

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THE RELEASE OF BENJAMIX CUDD.

121

From time to time the doctor came, but
Benjamin said he was ** workin' through it
all right, sir, thenk you, sir/' and he kept
on. He knew that, out of the twelve hun-
dred lags in the prison, there must be a
dozen or two doing their turn in the spe^
cials, and he thought he was getting on very
well.

During twenty days he did his graft stead-
ily, and in those twenty days he had scarcely
spoken twenty words. Then he began to
feel that he was losing himself a little. He
caught himself chewing his oakum when he
ought to have been picking it. It had a
naky taste, but it gave the palate some-
thing to do during the six hours from bread
to stirabout, and the next six hours from
stirabout to bread. At night he had odd
fancies that they were going to let him out
of prison on what the Queen is made to call
a free pardon. He thought the neighbor-
hood of Barnet would be a nice place to set-
tle in, because of the fair. He had a notion
that he was going to be well-to-do, and that
he wouldn't have to be a hook any more.
It was the first time in his life that he
bad imagined any better existence than a
hook's.

The twenty days straddled out into forty-
two, and Benjamin, though he did not know
it, had dwindled a good deal. He had taken
to sucking his sleeve instead of chewing his
oakum, though he had left off being very
hungry. He fancied he was no longer doing
a full day's graft, and was surprised to see,
when he returned to cell after his hour's ex-
ercise, that he was always credited with six
marks on the card outside his cell, which are
the most that can be earned in the penal
class.

Then, without expecting it, he found him-
self back one night in his own cell. It
seemed like getting into a hotel. The tins,
and the stool, and the tiny deal table looked
wonderfully smart, and there was the ham-
mock to unsling and fix up - a hammock with
sheets and a pillow —and the gae was burn-
ing in the wire guard, just as if you'd or-
dered it. He had a pint of cocoa for supper
that night, and felt almost as good as he had
done the day they let him off his flogging.
He thought it was want of use. and not
weakness, that made it a kind of effort to
nip into the hammock at the signal for lights
out.

*M knew I'd work them speshuls!" he
said. "They've got a noo reseep for
slrilly. I'll finish this three year on me
'ead!"

The last sentence was in the nature of a
flourish, for Benjamin was still possessed by
the notion that they were going to let him
out.

The change of scene was more pantomimic
than ever the next day, for instead of being
taken in a thick slop coat to the works, he
was marched into the nice warm room of the
stocking-knitters. In the prison they call
the stocking-knitters' party the Old Women,
but nobody minds that, for it is a very slack
and cozy berth. Benjamin took bis place in
a row of prisoners-* most of the rows were
old and white-headed -who sat on their
haunches and knitted silently, under the eye
of a warder at a desk. He chuckled over
his work.

**This here's graft, this is," he said to
himself.

His face was as gray as the November
sky, the skin drawn over the bones ; and the
big goggle eyes, more prominent than ever
in their shrunken frame, had as much specu-
lation as the eyes of a mask. But Benjamin
looked so pleased with himself.

The stocking-knitters bad a superstition
that no one who joined on Friday would stay
long with them. If he went in as a conva-
lescent from hospital, be get well soon, and
was put on hard graft again, or be had a
relapse and died. If he were passed in as
the result of a clever fake, he was sure to be
in trouble hy and by, and turned out. Lut
Benjamin, who had become an Old Woman
on a Friday, sat in his row with the other
shorn head^; and from the odd little airs
that he gave himself it might have been
thought that bis friend, the governor, had
put him there in charge of the party, and
that the warder was merely Benjamin's
deputy.

As an artist at the craft over which the
wardor presided, his success, it must be con-
fessed, was slow and indifferent. The needlea
— four to keep going at once— performed
wonderfully ; Benjamin, whose waking dreams
were still with Barnet Fair, called them a
** bloomin' merr}^-go- round." For a second-
rate hook, he had a pretty light touch ; but
four years on the works take the wit out of
the digits, and when it came to ** stocking-
knitting" he found tliat his fingers were all
thumbs. But he toiled over his task as a
play, with the steadfastness of a child learn-
ing a new game. From time to time he won-
dered how long they would let him stay
there, but he had a steady belief that he
should never go back to the works. Then
he thought about his release, but the idea of

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122

THE RELEASE OF BENJAMIN CUDD.

an escape never entered his mind. Neither
did it enter his mind that he had still three
years to serve; he was quite possessed by
the notion that a way to freedom was to be
found for him — all of which may serve to
show that Benjamin's terror, and his season
of penance in the ** speshuls," had produced
effects. The Old Women, seeing him so
perky and good-humored, and knowing some-
thing of his character in the prison^ con-
cluded that he was coming his tricks again ;
but they thought it mattered little, as he
would soon be leaving them, for had he not
joined on a Friday ?

Few of them were known to Benjamin,
who, in the course of his laggings, had not
often found himself in such select criminal
society. Whether his stay in prison were
long or short, it was rare indeed for him to
rise to the first class, and these were nearly
all first-class men, with the elegant blue fac-
ings to their jackets. They never gave cheek
or trouble to the warder; many of them
being indeed old, sorry creatures, doing their
last lagging, knitting themselves, with tired
fingers and bent, shaven heads, into a grave
within the prison walls. There were plenty
of middle-aged and some young men, but
they did not represent the able-bodied popu-
lation of the place, which works all day in
the open, and may on necessity be starved
and whipped into obedience.

The big head of Benjamin wagged sol-
emnly over his needles amid these ghosts,
scarecrows, and wastrels of the ** college of
iniquity." He was quite unconscious of the
concern he aroused. He did not know that
the warder watched him often, and wished
him elsewhere, expecting sorrow from him;
or that the Old Women were half afraid of
him, and half inclined to stir him up to
something.

Toward the end of November the sky one
morning broke into sudden sunshine, and
there came a rush of mild sweet air through
the stone yard where the stocking-knitters
were tramping round at exercise. Heads
were lifted to the pale blue and gold above,
and even the very old men quivered at the
smell of the gentle air. The walls of the
yard were too high for any glimpse beyond,
but it seemed as if the shades of the prison-
house had scattered for a moment, owing to
some beautiful change in the world without.
The sun and the pleasant air lasted through
the hour of exercise. One prisoner, a thin,
pallid man, whose legs in the red and black
stockings were a jest among the party, was
seen to be cr3ring on the way back to the

knitting-room. Benjamin, going in a kind
of amble at the tail of the gang, looked ut-
terly blissful, staring wide-eyed at thiB sky,
as if he did greatly desire it.

Work was given out, and in a few min-
utes the needles were clicking as usual.

It wanted about an hour of dinner, when
Benjamin, the end man of his row, laid down
his needles and ball of worsted, passed a
hand over his eyes, and stood up. A foolish
happiness illumined his dull, pinched face,
and he chuckled audibly, the big head on the
dwarfed body moving slowly from side to
side. Then he spoke.

** I knowed it was a-comin'/' he said.
** Chaps, Pve got that free pard'n."

The room tittered. This was the hour
expected of the Old Women ; Benjamin had
not disappointed them — he was coming a new
game.

He began to walk down the room towainl
the warder's desk, which was just against
the door.

** Sit down!" said the warder sternly.
*■ Where do you think you're going ? "

** Don't stop me, sir," answered Benja-
min, pleasantly. **rve got me pard'n all
right. I'm a-goin' where it's three shies a
penny, an' I bet you knows where that is,
sir."

The warder sprang to his feet, and in the
silence of the room the toppling over of his
stool sounded like a crash.

But Benjamin was quick, too.

For a moment he had halted, evidently
not quite understanding the check he had
received; then, as the warder rose, Benja-
min's features underwent the horrid trans-
formation they had done in the cell, and
with the same demoniacal scream his wasted
hands— nerved for the instant- went like
a flash at the officer's throat. It was
the supreme effort of madness, but it suf-
ficed.

A dozen prisoners threw themselves upon
the pair; but Benjamin, who had got his
prey to earth, his knees planted, and both
hands riveted on the throat, was not to be
loosened.

The warder's frame was convulsed from
head to foot, and then he lay still.

** Lerame go ! " said Benjamin, and he got
up quietly. ** There 'eis!" he continued,
pointing down at the dead warder. ** You
don't know 'im, mates, but I does. It's the
reeler what got me this lapfgin'. I see 'im
d'rec'ly 'e got orf the stool. That's all
right, pals. You don't need ter bodder. I
got me pard'n."

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THE LITTLE BOY AND HIS PA.

U>3

Oae of the convicts dashed at the door, Benjamin is very well tended in the Crim-
pulled it open, and shouted '* Murder! " inal Lunatic Aslyum, that celebrated place,

The sun streanaed in through the door- and if you were ever allowed there as a vis-

way, and Benjamin stared up at the
blue.

*'Time I was raovin', pals," he said.
** They starts the fun about twel' o'clock,
an' it's a step from 'ere to Bamet."

iter he would spot you at once, ask if you
had any message for him from his friend
Cap'en Lambert, and insist on showing you
round the fair. It's always fair day to
Benjy when a visitor comes.

THE UTTLE BOY AND HIS PA.

THE STORY OF HOW THEY GOT ACQUAINTED WITH EACH OTHKU.

By Ellsworth Kelley.

{HE little boy and his pa lived
on a ranch where the short
grass ran down the slope to
meet the elm and the hack-
berry trees along the river.
He was the only little boy in
the family; the only child,
for that matter. His mother
thought him the only little
boy in the world, for she
knew him well. The little
boy and his pa did not have an extended ac-
quaintance. His pa was a very busy man,
whose cattle business took him here and there
and everywhere a great deal of the time. So
the little boy did not see him every day, and
when he did see him it was usually at meal
time. When at home, sometimes his pa
would say : ** Come, little boy, wake up if you
want to eat breakfast with vour pa and
ma."

And the little boy would answer, **rm
getting dressed, pa."

At noon his pa would say: ** Come, little
boy, wash your face, and comb your hair,
and be sure you act nice at the table."
The little boy would reply: ** Yes, sir."
At night when the clock struck nine his
pa would say: ** Now. little boy, iCs bed-
time for folks of your size."

Then the little boy would kiss his ma, and
call " (lood-night, pa! '* as he went upstairs
to bed.

8t> their acquaintance stoiid till one Sep-
tember day when the little boy was ten years
old. That day his pa took the little l>oy with
him to the county-seat. That day the little
boy anc' his pa got acquainted with each
other. It was a Kansas Sc^}>tember morning.
This sentence will sulficiently d(»scribe it to

all who have passed a September in the
short-grass country. Words cannot convey
an adequate description to others. They
rode along in silence for a while. The little
boy had never been to the county-seat, and
his imagination was busy with the farther
end of the journey. By and by he fell to
counting the herds of cattle grazing on the
short-grass. He enjoyed the changing land-
scape. The quails whistled from the brown
corn-fields. Somewhere back on the uplands
the prairie chickens were drumming their
sunrise march. He viewed with inten-»e en-
joyment the tag game of a village of prairie
dogs. He watched a coyote in pursuit of a
jack-rabbit. But even upon the soul of a
child impressions of sound and sight will
sometimes pall. Then the little boy, all un-
conscious of what he was doing, began to
let his pa get acquainted with him. ** Pa,
do you remember when you were a little boy
— a ten-year-old boy - like me ?"

The vision of a barefoot boy with trousers
rolled up to his knees, fishing for chubs and
goggle-eyes in the old Spring branch so
many years ag(»— flitted before the father's
mental vision as he replied: ** Well, yes, my
son, 1 remember quite well."

** What was your name when you were a
little boy ? Your boy name, you know, that
the other fellows called you by ? "

* * Tommy. Your grandma called me * Tom-
mv Taylor.' But the boys I used to run with
called me * Pony ' — * Pony Taylor.' Some-
times thev'd turn mv name around, and call
me * Taylor's Pony.' "

** What did they call you ' Pony ' for ? "

** Oh, I guess it was because 1 was a great,
big, overgrown boy."

The little boy caught the spirit of the

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124

THE LITTLE BOY AND HIS PA.

irony, and laugbdd outright. He was silent
for a while, and then he began putting his
father through a little boy's catechism. " Pa,
did you ever play * scrub ' ? ''

''Scrub? What's that?''

*' Oh, it's a game something like base-ball
that you play when there isn't enough fel-
lows there to make nine on a side."

*' When I was a boy — when 1 was Pony
Taylor — we played town ball, and if we hadn't
enough on one side, why, we gave that side
a • blind eye.' "

'' Blind eye ! What's a blind eye ? "

*' Oh, it's just letting the first fellow out
on a side play again."

*' I see now. That made the sides even,
didn't it ? But did you ever play humper-
down or foot-an'-a-half or high jump or put
the shot?"

** Well, not by those names. We used to
play hop-step-and-a-jump, bull-pen, and old
three-cpmered cat."

** Do you know what an alley or taw is ? "

'* Sure! I'll never forget them."

Another short silence. The little boy was
thinking. ** Pa, can't you tell me something
— something funny— that happened — when
you were a little boy ? "

** Let me see! Well, I remember some-
thing that I thought was pretty funny when
it happened, and it got still funnier as I
thought about it in school time."

''What was it?"

" It wasn't anything much." His pa hesi-
tated a moment before telling it, for he did
not know the little boy well enough to be
certain that he would be able to appreciate
what, to him, was the ludicrous feature of the
story. Then he began: " There was a little
boy in our school that called himself the
* Boss.' He was a great big hulk of a fel-
low, and most of the boys were small, for it
was a summer term. If we played war, he
was the captain. If we played horse, he
was the driver. Well, one day he had a
whole lot of us fellows pulling a sled of rocks
from one part of the yard to the other. We
had a hedge pole tied to the sled for a tongue,
and each of us took hold of the pole with one
hand and pulled. All at once he took a no-
tion that he would be a horse, and he took
my place and made me be driver.

" I soon saw what he was about. He was
going to be the meanest horse ever hitched
up. He reared and pranced and plunged and
knocked the rest of the horses right and left.
I cracked him one with the whip, and he
kicked ; and when he kicked, he struck his
bare foot on a hedge thorn and tore it pretty

badly, and then that unmanageable horse just*
sat down and howled ! After school took up,
I got to thinking about it, and I laughed right
out. The teacher brought me out on the
floor, and when she asked what I was laugh-
ing at, I told her I had thought of something
funny. She said that she thought of some-
thing funny, too, and she took me over
and set me between two girls. Then 1
cried."

The little boy laughed delightedly and said,
" Fve never had to sit ^ith girls."

There was another mile sped over before
the little boy spoke again. ** Pa, when you
went fishing, what did you use for bait —
good bait, you know ? "

" Angle- worms to catch goggle-eyes, and
minnows for bass. 1 fished for goggle-eyes
mostly."

" Pa, do you think it does any good to
spit on bait ?"

His pa considered carefully before answer-
ing ; then he said that, when he was a boy,
it was so believed by all fishermen.

" Well, that's what I think, though I don't
exactly see why. But Billy Mullins catches
more fish than any of us fellows, and he says
the reason is because he always spits on his
bait. Say, pa, did you ever go s>^imming
the whole afternoon ? Just swim and swim
'til supper- time came, and then feel sorry
because it was time to go home ? "

" Did 1 ? I used to be in the long hole of
Spring branch so much that your grandma
pretended that she could see scales and fins
starting to grow on my body."

"Could you dive, and turn handsprings
off the spring-board, and tread water, and
lay your hair ?"

" Better than any other boy in the crowd."

Then the little boy moved close over to his
father, and said: " So can I."

By and by they came in sight of the county-
set'xt. The little boy was surprised at its size.
He expected it to be larger than Taylor's Cor-
ners, which had a school-house, a blacksmith
shop, and a store where they got the mail . But
he had not dreamed of such a picture as burst
upon his sight when they reached the hill-
top that overlooked the county-seat. Street
after street walled in with high houses!
Seven church steeples! A great two-story
school building! Whole blocks of two and
three story business houses! It seemed to
him like a scene out of his pictorial Aladdin
which he found by his plate on Christmas
morning. It was after rear*l*ing the city
that the little boy began getting acquainted
with his pa.

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THE STORY OF HOW THEY GOT ACQUAINTED WITH EACH OTHER. 125

** Well, well, Taylor! Tm glad to see
you. I am indeed. I was just telling my
wife this morning tliat I would rather see
Tom Taylor than any man likely to attend
the convention. You see, Taylor, I haven't
forgotten those three years we spent in the
mounted infantry, nor how you pulled me
out of the Johnnies' hands when I got that
bullet in my arm at Okolona. Say, those
Johnnie Rebs were the hot stuff that day,
weren't they ? And how are you getting
along, Taylor, and how is the wife ; and— is
this your boy ?"

** Yes -all I've got— and he's a namesake
of yours, Judge— William Strong Taylor."

** You don't say ! Well, well, well ! Your
boy and my namesake! A fine boy, sir, a
tine boy." And the judge shook the little
boy's awkward right hand— for it was not
much used to handshaking and worked very
much indeed like a pump-handle— and pat-
ted the little boy on the head.

** You and the little boy will take dinner
with me to-day, Taylor. We don't get a
chance to visit very often, so we'll just go
right along down to the house, and talk over
old times until dinner; " and the judge took
his pa by the arm, and, holding the little
boy's hand, together the three walked down
the street to the home of the judge.

So walking, the little boy was face to face
with the greatest episode of his short life.
He had known that he was named for the
great Judge Strong. He had occasionally
heard his father speak of the judge in terms
of the highest respect, and the little boy, in
his boyish way, had grown to think him a
very great man, only surpassed in greatness
by the governor himself; and now the judge
had actually patted him on the head, and
called him a fine boy ; and now they were to
take dinner with him ! Again he thought of
Aladdin.

While his pa and the judge were talking on
the veranda, the little boy sat like some little
old man, listening to the tales of camp life
and army hardships; listening until he felt
that he would have given anything in the
world— which meant his Aladdin and his
pony, Topsy— to have been old enough to
have carried a saber and ridden a cavalry
horse, and to have had a Spencer carbine
slung across his back.

At dinner he behaved very well, and said
** Yes, sir," and **No, ma'am," and ** If
you please" in just the right places, and
the judge beamed on him with smiles of ap-
proval. He really would have enjoyed an-
other piece of the custard pie, and one more

spoonful of grape jelly; but he remembered
his manners, and resolutely declined when
motherly Mrs. Strong insisted on a second
helping.

As they went back down town after din-
ner was over, the little boy was surprised to
notice how many men knew his pa. They
all acted as if they were glad to see him,
and shook hands with him very heartily, and
called him * * Captain.' ' Finally they reached
the Opera House, where the convention was
to be held. The little boy gazed curiously
on the noisy, surging, good-natured crowd
of delegates and politicians that filled the
room. By and by a big man on the stage
hammered with a mallet on a table, and
called the house to order. The committee
on organization made its report, and named
Captain Thomas Taylor for chairman. The
crowd cheered, and adopted the report unani-
mously. Then there were cries of ** Taylor !
Taylor ! Speech from Taylor ! ' '

The little boy felt proud and sorry all at
once— proud of the honor that had conie to
his pa, sorry because he was sure his pa
could not make a speech. He had read
something of Patrick Henry, and Webster,
and Henry Clay, and knew that they were
speech-makers. But he knew that they were
dead, and he had a vague idea that nobody
living, certainly nobody in that country, could
make speeches unless it might be preachers
and lawyers, or the schoolmaster on the last
day of school. So when his pa stood up be-
fore the crowd and bowed, and said: ** Fel-
low-citizens and gentlemen of the conven-
tion," the little boy grew very pale, and
could hear his own heart beat.

But his pa went right off into a speech
about the grand old party and the spirit of
liberty, and about the platform. The little
boy wondered if he meant the platform upon
which he was standing. Then his pa told a
humorous story, and the crowd laughed and
cheered. He spoke of prison-pens and dead
heroes, and the little boy saw a man draw
his coat sleeve across his eyes. When his pa
had finished his speech, the little boy thought
the cheering never would cease, and he men-
tally placed his pa in the list of men who
could make speeches, and wondered if some
time that speech would be placed in a Fifth
Reader for boys to study in school, along
with the speeches of Henry and Webster and
Clay.

the convention then proceeded to nomi-
nate the ticket. Finally Judge Strong was
on his feet making a speech. He was plac-
ing a name before the convention for repre-

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126

THE LITTLE BOY AND HIS PA.

sentative. He said he wished to name a
representative citizen, a man well known and
held in esteem by all who knew him ; a man
who had marched and fought by the judge's
side through the years of the war ; who now
carried in his body the bullets of battle and
bore upon his breast the scars of conflict.
He drew a vivid picture of this man leading
his company in a desperate charge at Mission-
ary Ridge, and concluded by saying, ** Gen-
tlemen, I have the honor to place before this
convention the name of Captain Thomas Tay-
lor, of Summit Township/'

There were more cheers, and some one
moved to suspend the rules and make the nomi-
nation unanimous. Motion carried. Ca,p-
tain Thomas Taylor was declared the nomi-
nee by unanimous vote. The little boy could
not remember anything like it in his story
of Aladdin.

The convention was over, the congratula-
tions of the delegates and others showered
upon the captain, and then the little boy
and his pa were on the homeward journey.
They did not talk much for many miles. His
pa was busy thinking over the events of the
day. So was the little boy. The sun had
gone down. Suddenly the quiet of the twi-
light hour — the great, impressive silence of
the plains — was broken by a fusillade some-
where off in the gathering darkness. Some
belated hunters were taking a parting shot
at a scurrying jack-rabbit. A correlation
of ideas inspired the little boy to ask: ** Pa,
when you were a soldier in the war with
Judge Strong, did you ever kill any one ? "

His pa did not answer at once. In an in-
stant there flashed before his eyes the events
of a September day in a year long gone.
Clouds of smoke hang over a battle-field.
The pungent, nauseous odor of sulphurous
smoke was in his nostrils. Again he looked
down a line of blue-coated horsemen sitting
like statues, each holding a drawn saber.
The men had grimy faces and tense, set jaws.
He heard Jack Stevens jest about what pretty
corpses they would make. Another man was
softly whistling '*The Girl I Left Behind

Me.*' Dick Saunders cursed the whistler,
and some of the boys laughed. A blast of
the bugle cut through the smoke-laden air.
A shell screamed overhead. A minie ball
wailed and shrieked the length of the line.
Each man leaned forward in his saddle, and
hitched his belt a notch tighter.

* ' Ta-ta. Ta-ta-ra. Ta-ta-ra-a-a-a ! ' '

In ten seconds the company was making
a saber charge now historic. It was a cum-
brous whirlwind of horse and rider, and
above, the sheet lightning of flashing sa-
bers. The lightning faded, and the sabers
were dripping, but not with rain. A gray-
sleeved arm was swinging a saber at his
throat. Like a machine moving at higher
speed, his own saber met and drove back that
of the gray arm, and rested upon the cheek
of the wielder. When his own saber swung
to position its mark was upon the face. The
face wavered for an instant, and then pitched
forward. Was it a dead face ? He never
knew.

" Pa, did you ever kill a man when you was
in the war?"

His pa, like one waking from a deep sleep,
answered slowly, ** Not that I know of, my
son."

'' Well, Fm awful glad you didn't," said
the little boy, as he again moved closer to
the side of his pa.

The little boy was sleepy and quite tired
out when he reached the farm-house on the
hill-slope. His ma heard them coming, and
opened the big gate for them to drive into
the barnyard. As the little boy climbed out
of the buggy and into the arms of his mother,
he put his arms around her neck, kissed her,
and exclaimed: ** Oh, ma, I've had the best
time ! And I saw Judge Strong, and we ate
dinner at his house, and pa knows nearly
everybody, and he made a speech, and they
nominated him for something, and his boy
name was * Pony,' and he could swim and
tread water and lay his hair same as I can."

His ma kissed him for reply, and knew
that the little boy and his pa had entered
the Land of Companionship together.

'JM^^dM!^^

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EXPERIMENTS IN FLYING.

By O. Chanute.

AN ACCOUNT OF

THE AUTHOR'S OWN
ADVENTURES.

INVENTIONS AND

ST is considerably over forty
years since I first became in-
terested in the problem of
flight. This presented the
attraction of an unsolved
problem which did not seem
as visionary as that of per-
petual motion. Birds gave
daily proof that flying could
be done, and the reasons
advanced by scientists why
the performance was inaccessible to man did
not seem to be entirely conclusive, if suffi-
ciently light motors were eventually to be ob-
tained. There was, to be sure, a record of
several thousand years of constant failures,
often resulting in personal injuries; but it
did not seem useless for engineers to inves-
tigate the causes of such failures, with a
view to a remedy. I, therefore, gathered
from time to time such information as was
to be found on the subject, and added thereto
such speculations as suggested themselves.
After a while this grew absorbing, and inter-
fered with regular duties, so that in 1874
all the accumulated material was rolled up
into a bundle and red tape tied around.it,
a resolution being taken that it should not
be undone until the subject could be taken up
again without detriment to any duty. It was
fourteen years before the knot was untied.

Meantime a considerable change had taken
place in the public attitude on the question.
It was no longer considered proof of lunacy
to investigate it, and great progress had
been made in producing artificial motors ap-
proximating those of the birds in relative
lightness. The problem was, therefore, taken
up again under more favorable circumstances.
A study was begun of the history of past fail-
ures, and the endeavor was madeto account
for them. In point of fact, this produced a
series of technical articles which swelled into
a book,* and also led to the conclusion that,
when a sufficiently light motor was evolved.

• " I*rnffm0 in Flving Machines,*'
New Ytirk, pnbllther.

1834. M. N. Fornev,

the principal cause of failure would be that
lack of stability in the air which rendered
all man-ridden flying-machines most hazard-
ous; but that, if this difficulty were over-
come, further progress would be rapid.

Experiments were, therefore, begun to
investigate this question of stability and
safety, and, if possible, to render the former
automatic. These experiments were hun-
dreds in number, and were, at first, very mod-
est. They consisted in liberating weighted
paper models of various shapes, either an-
cient or new, with gravity as a motive power,
and observing their glides downward. This
was done in still air. After a while, resort
was had to larger models, with muslin wings
and wooden frameworks, carrying bricks as
passengers ; and these were dropped from the
house-top in the early morning when only
the milkman was about. Very much was
learned as to the effect of the wind; and
then tailless kites of all sorts of shapes were
flown, to the great admiration of small boys.
During the seven or eight years within which
this work was carried on, some glinmierings
were obtained of the principles involved, and
some definite conclusions were reached. But
it was only after Lilienthal had shown that
such an adventure was feasible that courage
was gathered to experiment with full-sized
machines carrying a man through the air.

Otto Lilienthal was a very able German
engineer and physicist. He demonstrated
that concave wings afforded, at very acute
angles, from three to seven times as much
support as flat wings in the air. He made,
from 1891 to 1896, more than 2,000 suc-
cessful glides, the longest being about 1,200
feet, upon machines of his own design,
launching himself into the air from a hill-
top and gliding down against the wind. In
1895, he endeavored to add a motor, but
found that this complicated the handling so
much that he went back to his gliding-de-
vice. It was while experimenting with a
double-decked machine of this character,
which probably was in bad order, that Le

I'iT

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128

EXPERIMENTS IN FLYING.

fell and was killed, in Angost, 1896. Thus
perished the man who will probably be cred-
ited by posterity with having pointed out
the best way to preliminary experiments in
human flight throagh the air.

Just before this dismal accident, I had
been testing a full-sized Lilienthal machine.
I discarded it as hazardous, and then tested
the value of an idea of my own. This was
to follow the same general method, but to
reverse the principle upon which Lilienthal
had depended for maintaining his equilibrium
in the air. He shifted the weight of his
body, under immovable wings, as fast and as
far as the sustaining pressure varied under
his surfaces. This shifting was mainly done
by moving the feet, as the actions re(iuired
were small except when alighting. My no-
tion was to have the operator remain seated
in the machine in the air, and to intervene
only to steer or to alight ; moving mechan-
ism being provided to shift the wings auto-
matically, so as to restore the balance when
endangered. There are several ways in
which this can be done. Two of them have
been worked out to a probable success in my
experiments, and there is still a third which
I intend to test in due course.

To make such experiments truly instruc-
tive, they should be made with a full-sized
machine and with an operator riding therein.
Models seldom fly twice alike in the open air
(where there is almost always some wind),
and they cannot relate the vicissitudes which
they have encountered. A flying-machine
would be of little future use if it could not
operate in a moderate wind ; hence the neces-
sity for an operator to report upon what oc-
curs in flight, and to acquire the art of the
birds. My own operations were conducted
from that point of view, with the great dis-
advantage, however, that being over three-
score years of age, I wasnolongersufliciently
young and active to perform any but short
and insignificant glides in such tentative ex-
periments ; the latter being directed solely
to evolving the conditions of stability, and
without any expectation of advancing to the
invention of a commercial flying-machine. I
simply tested various automatic devices to
secure equilibrium, and, with great anxiety,
employed young and active assistants.

The best way to carry on such adventures
is first to select a soft place on which to
alight. This is well secured on a dry and
loose sand-hill, and there ought to be no
bushes or trees to run into. Our party found
such sand-hills, almost a desert, in which we
pitched our tent, on the shore of Lake Michi-

gan, about thirty miles east of Chicago.
The main hill selected was ninety-five feet
high; but the highest point started from
was sixty-one feet above the beach, as the
best instruction was to be obtained from
short glides at low speeds.

With parties of from four to six persons,
five full-sized gliding-machines* (one rebuilt)
were experimented with in 1896, and one in
1897. Out of these, two types were evolvedl,
the *' Multiple- Wing" and the '*Two-Sar-
faced," which are believed to be safer than
any heretofore produced, and to work out
fairly well the problem of automatic equili-
brium. The photographs herewith repro-
duced, many of them heretofore unpublished,
are from snap-shots taken of these two types.
In 1896, very few photographs were taken,
all the attention being devoted to studying
the action of the machines, and the one pic-
ture shown is the sixth permutation of the
** Multiple- Wing" machine, so-called. In
1897, there was more leisure to take snap-
shots, as the machine used was a duplication
of the ''Two-Surfaced" of 1896, supplied
with a regulating mechanism designed by Mr.
A. M. Herring, my assistant. Each photo-
graph was taken from a diflferent experiment
(there were about 1,000 glides); but the
point of view was varied, so as to exhibit
the consecutive phases of a single flight.
The frog-like appearance of some of the legs
is due to the speed.

The first thing which we discovered prac-
tically was that the wind flowing up a hill-
side is not a steadily flowing current like
that of a river. It comes as a rolling mass,
full of tumultuous whirls and eddies, like
these issuir;; from a chimney; and they
strike the apparatus \\ith constantly varying
force and direction, sometimes withdrawing
support when most needed. It has long
been known, through instrumental observa-
tions, that the wind is constantly changing
in force and direction ; but it needed the ex-
perience of an operator afloat on a gliding-
machine to realize that this all proceeded
from cyclonic action; so that more was
learned in this respect in a week than had
previously been acquired by several years of
experiments with models. There was a pair
of eagles, living in the top of a dead tree
about two miles from our tent, that came
almost daily to show us how such wind eflFects
are overcome and utilized. The birds swept
in circles overhead on pulseless wings, and
rose high up in air. Occasionally there was a

• So termod to diHtiti^Miiph them from tnie flyiiig-machiues.
in which propulsion would be implied. j «s »v «..

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THE MANNER OF MAKING A GLIDE.

129

side-rocking motion, as of a ship rolling at
sea, and then the birds rocked back to an
even keel ; but although we thought the ac-
tion was clearly automatic, and were willing
to learn, our teachers were too far off to show
us just how it was done, and we had to ex-
periment for ourselves.

The operator stands on the hill-side. He
raises up the apparatus, which is steadied
by a companion, and quickly slips under and
within the machine. He faces the wind.
This wind buffets the wings from side to side,
and up or down, so that he has much diffi-
culty in ob-
tain ing a
poise. This is
finally accom-
plished by
bracing the
cross-piece of
the machine's
frame against
his back, and
depressing the
front edge of
the wings so
that they will
be struck from
above by the
wind. His
arm-pits rest
on a pair of
horizontal
bars, and he
grasps a pair
of vertical
bars with his hands. He is in no way at-
tached to the machine, so that he may dis-
engage himself instantly should anything go
wrong. Then, still facing dead into the
wind, he takes one or two, never more than
four, running steps forward, raising up the
front edge of the apparatus at the last mo-
ment, and the air claims him. Then he sails
forward into the wind on a generally descend-
ing course. The *' Multiple- wing " machine
was provided with a seat, but, goodness ! there
was no time to sit down, as each glide of
two to three hundred feet took but eight
to twelve seconds, and then it was time to
alight. This latter phase of the problem had
been the subject of meditation for months,
and the conclusion had been reached to imi-
tate the sparrow. When the latter ap-
proaches the street, he throws his body
back, tilts his outspread wings nearly square
to the course, and on the cushion of air thus
encountered he stops his speed and drops
lightly to the ground. So do all birds. We

tried it with misgivings, but found it per-
fectly effective. The soft sand was a great
advantage, and even when the experts were
racing there was not a single sprained ankle.
The rebuilt ** Multiple- wings" were piv-
oted at their roots, and vibrated backward
and forward on ball-bearings, restrained by
rubber springs. As the wind varied, they
adjusted themselves thereto, and brought
back the supporting air pressure over the
operator, thus reestablishing the threatened
balance. This was done automatically. But
in consequence of various defects in construc-
tion and ad-
justment, the
operator still
had to move
one or two
inches, as
against the
from seven to
fifteen inches
of movement
required by
the Lilienthal
apparatus.
Some two or
three hundred
glides were
made with the
"Multiple-
wing" with-
out any acci-
dent to man or
machine, and
the action was
deemed so effective, the principle so sound,
that the full plans were published in the
'* Aeronautical Annual" for 1897, for the
benefit of experimenters desiring to improve
on this apparatus.

There is no more delightful sensation than
that of gliding through the air. All the
faculties are on the alert, and the motion is
astonishingly smooth and elastic. The ma-
chine responds instantly to the slightest
movement of the operator ; the air rushes by
one's ears; the trees and bushes flit away
underneath, and the landing comes all too
quickly. Skating, sliding, and bicycling are
not to be compared for a moment to aerial
conveyance, in which, perhaps, zest is added
by the spice of danger. For it must be dis-
tinctly understood that there is constant dan-
ger in such preliminary experiments. When
this hazard has been eliminated by further
evolution, gliding will become a most popular
sport.

The ** Two-surfaced " machine, so-called,

MR. CHANUTE*S HDLTIPLE-WING GLIDING-MACHINE.

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130

EXPERIMENTS IK FLYING.

St rn'ifihng Jnr ti jmiite.

, IrUlk !/(/ «i HIH' 'JUAt.

Hi {lilt iujnin.

EXPERIMENTS WITH MACHINES INVENTED BY MR.
CHANUTE. FROM PHOTOGRAPHS TAKEN BY HIM.

produced longer and more numerous g^lides.
There were perhaps 700 or 800, at a rate of
descent of about one foot in six ; so that
while the longest distance traversed was 360
feet, we could have sailed 1,200 feet, had
we started from a hill 200 feet high. In
consequence of the speed gained by runnmg,
the initial stage of the flight is nearly hori-
zontal, and it is thrilling to see the operator
I)a8s from thirty to forty feet overhead,
steering his machine, undulating his course,
and struggling with the \vind gusts ^^rhich
whistle through the guy wires. The auto-
matic mechanism restores the angle of ad-
vance when compromised by variations of
the breeze ; but when these come .from one
side and tilt the apparatus, the weight has
to be shifted to right up the machine. This
is generally done by thrusting out the feet
toward the side which has been raised, a
movement which is just the reverse of ^what
would be instinctively made on the ground,
but which becomes second nature to an ex-
pert. These gusts sometimes raise the ma-
chine from ten to twenty feet vertically, and
j'ome times they strike the apparatus from
above, causing it to descend suddenly. When
sailing near the ground, these vicissitudes can
be counteracted by movements of the body
of three or four inches ; but this has to be
done instantly, for neither wind nor gravity
will wait on meditation. At a height of 300
or 400 feet the regulating mechanism would
probably take care of these wind gusts, as
it does, in fact, for their minor variations.
The speed of the machine is generally about
seventeen miles an hour over the ground,
and from twenty-two to thirty miles an hour
relative to the air. Constant effort was di-
rected to keep down the velocity, which was
at times fifty-two miles an hour. This is the
purpose of the starting and gliding against
the wind, which thus furnishes an initial
velocity without there being undue speed at
the landing. The highest wind we dared to
experiment in blew at thirty-one miles an
hour ; when tlie wind was stronger, we waited
and watched the birds.

There was a gull came fishing over the
lake, and took up his station over its very
edge, about 100 feet high in air. The wind
was blowing a steady gale from the north at
sixty-one measured miles an hour. The bird
breasted it squarely, and without beat of
wing maintained for five minutes his position
of observation. Occasionally there was a
short rocking motion fore and aft, or from
side topside. At times he was raised sev-
eral feet and drifted backward; at others he

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AROUSING THE CURIOSITY OF THE BIRDS.

131

drooped down; but he never flapped once.
It was evident that he derived from the wind
alone all the power required to remain afloat
and to perforate the blast without drifting
back. Whether man will ever be able to
perform this feat, which has been termed
** aspiration," is perhaps doubtful, but there
is no mistake about the observation. The
only thing we could not ascertain was whether
our practice hill, 350 feet to his leeward, pro-
duced an ascending trend in the wind about
the bird, who was level with its summit.

Another day a curious thing occurred. We
had taken one of the machines to the top of
the hill, and loaded its lower wings with sand
to hold it while we went to lunch. A gull
came strolling inland, and flapped full-winged
to inspect. He swept several circles above
the machine, stretched his neck, gave a
squawk, and went off. Presently he re-
turned with eleven other gulls, and they
seem.ed to hold a conclave, about 100 feet
above the big new white bird which they had
discovered on the sand. They circled round
after round, and once in a while there was
a series of loud peeps, like those of a rusty
gate, as if in conference, with sudden flut-
terings, as if a terrifying suggestion had
been made. The bolder birds occasionally
swooped downward to inspect the monster
more closely ; they twisted their heads around
to bring first one eye and then the other to
bear, and then they rose again. After some
seven or eight minutes of this performance,
they evidently concluded either that the
stranger was too formidable to tackle, if
alive, or that he was not good to eat, if dead,
and they flew off to resume fishing, for the
weak point about a bird is his stomach.

We did not have the slightest accident to
lament during all our experiments. These
were chiefly performed by two young, active
men, who took turns, and who became ex-
pert in a week ; but then, we attempted no
feats and took no chances. Toward the last,
we gained such confidence in the machines
that we allowed amateurs to try them under
guidance. Half a dozen performed fairly
well, but awkwardly of course. One of them
was our cook, who was by profession a sur-
geon, and one was a newspaper reporter who
had succeeded in finding his way to the camp.
Another was a novice ; he was picked up
by a wind gust, raised forty feet verticijlly,
and gently set down again. Any young,
quick, and handy man can master a gliding-
machine almost as soon as a bicycle, but the
penalties for mistakes are much more severe.
After all, it will be by the cautious, observant

RMnj.

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Sailing.

—

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Dnnrping.

Attoiit to alight.

EXPERIMENTS WITH MACHINES INVENTED BY MR.
CHANUTE. FROM PHOTOGRAPHS TAKEN BY HIM.

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132

EXPERIMENTS IN FLYING.

Preparing for the flight.

Heady.

THE PILCHER FLYING-MACHINE.

man — the man who accepts no risks which
he can avoid, perhaps the ultra-timid man —
that this hazardous investigation of an art
now known only to the birds will be most
advanced. Not even the birds could have
operated more safely than we; but they
would have made longer and flatter glides,
and they would have soared up into the
blue.

In my judgment, neither of the machines
above described is as yet perfected, and I
believe it is still premature to apply an arti-
ficial motor. This is sure to bring about
complications which it is preferable to avoid
until the equilibrium has been thoroughly
evolved. I, therefore, advise that every
plausible method of securing stability and
safety shall be tested, that many such ex-
periments shall be made, first with models,
and then with full-sized machines, and that
their designers shall practice, practice, prac-
tice ; to make sure of the action, to propor-
tion and adjust the parts, and to eliminate
hidden defects. , If any feat is attempted, it
should be over water, in order to break the
fall, should any occur. All this once ac-
complished, it will be time enough to apply
a motor ; and it seems not improbable that
the gliding-machine will furnish the proto-
type. This step-by-step process is doubt-
less slow and costly, but it greatly diminishes
the chance of those accidents which bring a
whole line of investigation into contempt.
We have no reason to believe that, contrary
to past experience, a practical flying-ma-
chine will be the result of the happy thought
of one or of two persons. It will come
rather by a process of evolution : one man
accomplishing some promising results, but
stopping short of success ; the next carrying
the investigation somewhat further, and thus
on, until a machine is produced which will be
as practical as the '* safety ** bicycle, which

took some eighty years for its development
from the original despised velocipede.

Since the above described experiments
were tried, another deplorable accident has
come to re-inculcate the necessity for ex-
treme caution. Mr. Percy S. Pilcher, a
young, accomplished, and enthusiastic Eng-
lish engineer, lost his life September 30,
1899, while making experiments in soaring
with a machine of his own design upon the
Liiienthal principle. He had already per-
formed hundreds of glides since 1894, and had
introduced a method of towing the machine
with horses, by means of a long cord with
multiplying tackle, so that he could rise
from level ground. On this occasion, a first
successful flight was made ; but on the sec-
ond trial, after a height of some thirty feet
had been gained, a snap was heard, the tail
was seen to collapse, and the apparatus dived
forward, and fell to the ground, Mr. Pilcher
receiving injuries from which he died two
days later. He doubtless was the victim of
his own amiability, for his apparatus had
been wet by a shower, so that the canvas of
the tail had shrunk, thus producing undue
strains upon the bamboo stretcher, the wind
was gusty, and the weather very unfavor-
able; but as many persons had come from
a distance to witness the experiments, Mr.
Pilcher did not like to disappoint them, and
accepted the undue risks which cost him his
life. He was less than thirty-four years of
age, a skilful and earnest mechanician, who
had already built the oil-engine and screw
which he meant to apply to his machine.

Notably enough, he had written to me
some eighteen months before for leave to
copy and test one of my machines, which
leave, with instructions, had, of course,
been gladly given. The machine had been
built, and was to have been tried on the fol-
lowing day. It is a curious coincidence that

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WHAT THE COMMERCIAL FLYING-MACHINE WILL BE. 133

SniUng.

Dropftinu itntt going fuM.

THE PILCHER FLYING-MACHINE.

Lilientbal is said to have also built a machine,
quibQ original with him, upon the same prin-
ciple as that above alluded to, and that this
also was to have been tested within a day
or two of the owner's death. It is idle to
speculate on what would have been the re-
sult; but then accidents might have hap-
pened in my own work, and I am profoundly
thankful that we were spared such anguish.

Having been compelled, for the last two
years, to give all my time and attention to
a practical business, I have been unable to
experiment; but I have had an expert test-
ing models of a third method of securing
automatic stability, which I hope to experi-
ment full-sized.

Aside from the more imaginative and ec-
centric inventors, there are now a number
of scientific investigators who are working
to bring about the solution of this difficult
problem; and it is not at all improbable that
some experimenter will succeed, within a
year or so, in making a flight of something
like a mile with a motor. This is now fairly
feasible, and there are several inventors who
are preparing to attempt it. But between
this achievement and its extension to a jour-
ney, or even to its indefinite repetition, there
will intervene many accidents. Nor is there
a fortune to be made by the first successful
man. Experimenters who wish to advance
the final solution of the quest surely and
safely must work without expectation of
other reward than that of being remembered
hereafter ; for, in the usual course of such
things, it will be the manufacturers who will
reap the pecuniary benefits when commercial

flying-machines are finally evolved. There
will probably be two types of these, one of
them a machine for sport, with a very light
and simple motor, if any, carrying but a
single operator, and deriving most of its
power from wind and gravity, as do the soar-
ing birds. This will be used in competitions
of skill and speed, and there will be no finer
or more exciting sport. The other future
machine will probably be of a journeying
type. It will be provided with a powerful,
but light, motor and with fuel for one or two
days' travel. It will preferably carry but
a single man, and will be utilized in explora-
tion and in war. Its speed will be from
thirty to sixty miles an hour at the begin-
ning, and eventually much greater, for it is
a singular fact that the higher speeds re-
quire less power in the air, within certain
limits, than low speeds. At high velocities,
the surfaces may be smaller, lie at flatter
angles, and offer less resistance, but the
pressure then increases on the framework,
and the ultimate speed m^y not be more
than 80 or 100 miles an hour.

Neither of these machines seems likely to
compete with existing modes of transporta-
tion. But be this as it may, every improve-
ment in transportation, whether in cheapness,
in comfort, or in speed, soon develops new
and sometimes unexpected uses of its own ;
so, even with sober anticipation of the bene-
fits to be realized, investigators and public-
spirited men may well afford to advance the
solution of a problem which has so warmly
appealed to the imagination of men for the
past forty or fifty centuries.

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Snake River.

NOME arr.

From a phuto(;raph. C«»pyriifht. 18W, by Pillsbuiy runoi-ainic View Co., Seattle.

THE OAPE NOME (iOLD FIELDS.

TIIEIK RKMAKKABLK PHODICT AM) PHOMISK.— THE LIKE OF THE
MIXEHS.— TIIK (JROWTII OF XOME (TrV.

By William J. Lampfox.

HE last ships coming down to
Pacific ports from the Bering
Sea in November, 1899,
brought hundreds of passen-
gers who asserted that in
the marvelous tales already
abroad the half had not been

told of the richness of the Cape Nome gold

fields ; and who, moreover, brought hundreds

of thousands of dollars in gold dust in proof

of their assertions. Their reports at once

spread eastward, stirring the spirit of acquisi-
tion everywhere between the seas, and now

from East, West, North, and South thousands,

eager with the thirst for gold, are hurrying

toward the Arctic Eldorado. Before ('hrist-

mas nearly every available vessel on the Pa-
cific Coast had been chartered to start for

Cape Nome as soon as the present season

opened ; and it is expected that from 25,000

to 30,000 people will make the journey from

KditorV Note.— Mr. I^mpton vitnited Alaska Innt fall under clmiriiHtaiirt* fi*iM'<i;ilIv f!i\<»rMl>l»' for tri'tting the \H^t In-
formation re^anlinf; the new poM fiehb. His article in a Ptiinmary of the present ku(>wle«l^'e of that new Eldorado which has
artMiged aluiont unparalle)e<l intextHt and e.Ycitenient.

one or another of the Pacific ports, while
thousands will go in overland by way of the
Yukon valley.

Although Cape Nome had had its name
upon the maps of Alaska for twenty years,
it possessed small interest until gold was dis-
covered in its vicinity two years ago. Ob-
serving a time-honored custom, the first
comers secured every claim that they could
lay their hands on. By June, 1899, several
hundred men had entered the district, .and
consequently claims that could be had for
the mere staking and payment of the govern-
ment entry fees were by that time becoming
exceedingly scarce. Under these circum-
stances, disappointment to the late comers
was inevitable. A territory twenty-five miles
square, extending along the shore and back
into the mountains, was covered by stakes ;
and many men who had thought that life was
hard enough in the Klondike and Yukon

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THE LARGEST CITY OF ITS AGE IN THE WORLD.

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country, began to think, and to say, that
('ape Nome was no better. Hundreds were
" stranded," and they circulated reports that
Cape Nome was a "fake" foisted on the
public by the transportation companies, in
order to make business for themselves re-
gardless of consequences to the miners. So
many reports of this kind went out, that for
a short time Nome became a name for every-
thing nefarious. Many of the disappointed
prospectors returned to St. Michael, and
there waited again, as they had been waiting
before, for a steamer or a revenue cutter
that would carry them back to the States.
But many remained because they were un-
able to pay for their passage to St. Michael,
though it is only 130 miles away, to the
southeast across Norton Sound.

Then came the beach diggings, the easiest
gold-mining in the world, and free to every
man who had a pick and shovel and pan,
and the energy to use them. Of this dis-
covery, as of the earlier one, there are con-
flicting accounts ; but it is generally accepted
that a soldier was really the first man to find
gold in the beach sands. Almost on the in-
stant the name of Nome was on every tongue.
The discovery was made the latter part of
June or the first of July, 1899, when the
sea-way was open ; and every ship that went
out carried the news, and hurried to bring a
load of passengers back. There was an im-
mediate rush from the near-by mining regions,
and hundreds came by steamers from St.

Michael and from all points along the Yukon
as far up as Dawson. Before a month had
elapsed, it was estimated that over two thou-
sand persons were at work on the beach —
in a strip extending along the sea for five or
six miles— and were taking out as much as
$30,000 of " dust " a day. The excitement
affected all classes ; and although the pre-
vailing rate of wages at other work was
$10 a day and board, every man who could
secure tools gave up his employment, and
went to digging on the beach. Even the
women worked in the sand, and at one time
a mother and her twelve-year-old boy plod-
ded away with the others. There was no
mining like this in all the world ; it was super-
latively the " poor man's diggings," and the
poor men went thither in droves by .every
means of transportation at their command.
With them came their invariable attendants ;
and by September, 1899, Cape Nome, or Nome
City, as the new town and postoflice were
called, had a population of from four to five
thousand persons of both sexes, with the full
complement of eating and lodging places —
not houses, for they were chiefly tents and
shacks — gambling dens, dance halls, saloons,
and stores, all of them doing a rushing busi-
ness, and many of them getting the miners'
gold almost as soon as they had washed it
from the sand.

Beach deposits of gold were not entirely
unknown before the Cape Nome discoveries,
such deposits having been found on Unga Isl-

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136

THE CAPE NOME GOLD FIELDS.

LANDING FREIGHT ON THE BEACH AT NOME CITY.

Norton Sound is t'Mrenidy Hhallow, and in front cf Nome City It tlioals off, so that gliips cannot approach noariT tlian
half n mile. At prcfent nil goo<]» and paw»onpcr8 an^ brought aphore in lighters, but money has already l)ocn pul>8crilHKl to
biild a floating pier. From a photograph. Copyright, 18:)9, by Pillsbury Panoramic View Co., Seattle.

and in the North Pacific and at several places
along the coast of California. But the Cape
Nome deposits so far exceed all others in
richness that they quite deserve the promi-
nence to which they have so suddenly attained,
rhe beach at Nome, as most of the beach
line of northwest Alaska, varies in width
from seventy-five to a hundred and fifty feet,
extending from low-water mark to what is
called the "tundra." This "tundra" ends
at the sand in an almost perpendicular bluff
from fifteen to twenty feet high, and thence
slopes gently back for three or four miles to
the foot hills. It is a level morass of black,
boggy soil, almost peat in places, and is
covered with coarse grass or moss, pleasantly
green to the eye in summer, but at all times
difficult and tiresome to travel over. Little
pools and ponds, sometimes increasing to the
size of small lakes, are scattered over it,
connected by streams which grow into creeks
ani empty, sooner or later, either into the
rivers that come down to the sea from the
mountains or else directly into the sea itself.
The streams are upon the surface, and do
n3t cut do>Mi into the sand that lies below.
In the winter the entire " tundra " field is a
sheet of ice and snow ; and at no time of the

year does it thaw deeper than from a foot
to eighteen inches below the surface. The
"tundra" rests uprn a bed of sand, supposed
to have constituted the beach when the sea
extended back to the foot hills, a hundred
thousand years or more ago. Both the
"tundra" and its underlying sand are gold-
bearing, but are difficult to work because of
the frozen earth, and very little has as yet
been done to determine their value. The
richest returns are expected from them,
however, as soon as they can be subjected
to modem mining appliances.

The gold-bearing beach, which is but an
extension of the sand under the " tundra,"
begins at Cape Nome, to the east of Nome
City, and continues along the coast to the
westward as far as prospected, say 120
miles. The portion near Nome City seems
to be richer than that farther away, and the
territory mined over here covers a length of
six or eight miles and a width of 150 feet
or more. As a rule, the face of the " tun-
dra " bluff and back for sixty feet is worked,
as the law allows a sixty-foot roadway at
high-water mark. The entire beach between
high and low water mark is technically
" tide lands," which is set aside by the gen-

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CONFLICTING CLAIMS-THE BEACH DIGGINGS,

137

MAIN STREET IN NOME CITY.

In congtruction, Nome City began the Beaenn of 1H09 with a few Indian hutft, wbicli were »oon supplanted )>y hnndrede of
tents. Before winter enroe, woo<len housea had dieplnced mont of the tents ; n hospital and several chiirrlies had been erected,
and some wooden sidewalks had lx*en laid. From a photograph. Copyright, 1809, l>y Pillsbury Panoramic View Co., Seattle.

eral government in territorial possession for
the benefit of the future State and is not
subject to the general land laws. In addi-
tion to the "tide lands" is the sixty-foot
roadway allowance for the use of the public ;
and as claims may not be granted upon this
territory, a large area of free land is left to
be taken, at least for the present, by as
many as may "squat" upon it. It is upon
such claims as these that the famous beach
diggings are conducted. No man holds save
by priority of possession. This right, how-
ever, is very generally recognized by the
miners, and when once a man has taken a
claim, he is not disturbed in it so long as
he remains and works it. Efforts have been
made by owners of claims on the "tundra"
to extend their boundaries to the exclusion
of the "squatters," but thus far without
success. A legal settlement of all "tide-
land " questions is promised during this sea-
son, as well as a number of others which are
of more importance as affecting more per-
manent and valuable properties than the
beach diggings. It was stated on good au-
thority, at the close of last season, that
every one of the thousand claims recorded
up to September Ist— claims covering 20,-

000 acres, or about thirty square miles —
represented a suit at law, so hasty and hap-
hazard had been the procedure in securing
claims. The value of the properties already
in litigation was estimated by Judge John-
ston, United States District Judge for the
District of Alaska, who held his first court in
Nome early last September, at $10,000,000.
Practically nothing was done toward the
settlement of these cases in the brief time
at the disposal of the court, and the number
awaiting determination by the time the court
next sits will necessarily be very large.

The diggings along the beach vary in
depth from a foot to fifteen feet ; and the
gold, which is always in the "dust" form
here, is found through the ruby sand an3
gravel which lie upon a silty clay, there be-
ing no bed rock proper as far as yet known.
The appliances in use are of the simplest
kind, the pick and shovel and pan and
rocker being found equal to the requirements
of the work. In a few instances, sluice-
boxes have been employed, but not with as
much advantage as they would have been
had there been a greater water supply from
the " tundra" with a greater fall.

While most of the beach mining is well

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138

THE CAPE NOME GOLD FIELDS.

DIGGING ON THE TUNDRA ABOVE THE BEACH AT CAPE NOME.

From the edge of the »*;ind tlif black, |xraty noil of llie " lundra " bIoim'b btick to the f(M>t hills. Never thnwhig deeper
than a foot or two below the Kurface, it is luoet difllcult ground to work ; but with Improved applinncep, it is exiKTted that the
protluct will be raarvclously rich.

back from the water, several holes have
been sunk below low-water mark, and it is
reported that the farther into the sea the
mine can be worked, the richer is the pay
streak. The difficulty of operating in the
water, with the very primitive appliances
thus far in use, has kept the work from get-
ting far beyond the experimental stage.
Some dredging has been done from boats at
short distances from the shore, but thus far
with no great success, although enough gold
has been raised in this way to warrant further
effort. A novel project, the result of which
cannot be known until communication is once
more resumed with the winter-beleaguered
city, is to go to the bottom of the sea through
shafts sunk in the ice.

For all the notoriety at present enjoyed
by the beach diggings, it is upon the not
leSs rich diggings along the creeks and
gulches tributary to the Nome, Snake, and
other rivers that the future prosperity and
permanence of Nome City must depend.
The limited area of the beach and its free-
dom to thousands of workers must of neces-
sity soon exhaust it, at least in the immedi-
ate vicinity of the city. On the other hand,
the territory along the creeks covers hun-
dreds of square miles, and years will be
required for its full development. There is
always a degree of uncertainty in the con-

tinuance of placer mining, which is by nature
superficial ; but if quartz is discovered in
the mountains that stretch along the entire
coast, as many authorities assert that it will
be, Nome City, despite all physical and
climatic hindrances, will be as permanent as
the everlasting hills. A reference to the
map will show the great number of streams
draining the territory between the mountains
and the sea, and as gold in varying quantities
has been found upon all of them, an estimate
may be readily made as to the richness of
the section.

While the mining on the beach is done by
individual workers largely with pick and
shovel and pan or rocker, that on the creeks
is carried on by gangs of men who take the
" dirt " from the shafts and wash it in sluice-
boxes similar in principle to the pan or
rocker, but of much greater capacity. Large
quantities of water are required for these
boxes, and there is a scarcity at present ;
but with more capital and further develop-
ment this want will be supplied, and later
will come the powerful hydraulic machines
which eat the earth away as fire eats grass.
The great bulk of the Nome gold has come
from these creeks, and claims along them
are worth from $1,000 to $100,000 each,
according to their showing. Some are not
for sale at any price - especially such a claim

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NOME CITY-ITS GROWTH AND ITS LIFE.

139

THE BEACH DIGGINGS.

This is tlic caeicBt gold mining in the world, and is free to any man uho has a pick and bIiovcI and pan and the energy to use
them. From a photograph. Copyright, 1899, by Pillsbiiry Panoramic View Co., Seattle.

as No. 1 Anvil, which is reported to have
cleared up as much as $25,000 in twenty-
four hours, and $200,000 in sixty days.

At present Nome is preeminently a city
of doubt, and all its fair promise may be
blighted within a very few years. But if it
loses its prominence as a center of gold-
mining, some other place or places in the
same general locality will gain all that Nome
loses ; for through all of northwest Alaska
rich deposits of the yellow metal are re-
ported by prospectors, and miners are mi-
gratory creatures whose persistence ends
only with death. Already a movement to-
ward Cape York, a hundred or more miles to
the westward, has begun ; and pioneers have
blazed the way to Cape Prince of Wales, the
last point to the west, and only seventy
miles from the Siberian coast, on which, also,
gold is reported to exist.

The Nome gold regions, while entirely in-
accessible during the winter — that is, from
November to June — are the most accessible
known during the open season of navigation,
for they lie immediately along the shores
of Norton Sound, and the miner steps from
the ship which has brought him from the
" States ** almost into the mine where he is
to work. There are no steep, snow-clad
mountains to cross, nor long trails and dan-
gerous rivers to traverse through hundreds of
miles of inhospitable country, as there were

at first in getting to the Klondike. The
farthest claims are not more than a dozeu
miles from the shore, and the trails to them
are easy, except for the mud. The most
serious difficulty of the entire journey is in
making the landing from the ship. Norton
Sound is extremely shallow in all parts, and
in front of Nome City it shoals oif to a depth
of only four or five feet, so that ships draw-
ing more than that cannot approach nearer
than half a mile ; and not so near when the
wind is blowing at all strong, for the winds,
coming up from the wide sweep of the Ber-
ing Sea, make the surf difficult and dangerous.
At present all goods and passengers are
brought ashore in lighters ; but in view of
the much greater business during the season
of 1900, when it is believed that as many as
30,000 persons and thousands of tons of
machinery and supplies will be carried to
Nome, it has been proposed, and money has
been subscribed, to build a breakwater of
piles, and, with boats between, form a float-
ing pier which will extend out into the sea
to a point at which ships may land and dis-
charge their cargoes. The matter of tide,
fortunately, does not enter much into the
problem, as the tide variation is often less
and seldom more than a foot.

Of Nome City it may be said that it is the
largest city of its age in the world. It is
located on the north shore of Norton Sound,

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140

THE CAPE NOME GOLD FIELDS.

A dollar's worth op wood.

Fitun a photograph. Copyright, 18tK), by Pilbbury Panoramic
View Co., Siattlf.

west of Cape Nome, from which it takes its
name, and stretches in a straggling string for
three or four miles eastward from the mouth
of Nome River toward the cape. It is esti-
mated that 2,500 people have been shut up
there in complete isolation from the world
since last November. No such number of
people ever before passed a winter under such
conditions. Before the winter exodus, which
ended with the departure of the last steamer
for the south last November, the population
was about 5,000 ; and by next August it will,
no doubt, reach 25,000. In construction, the
city began at the opening of the season of
1899 with a few Indian huts, which were
quickly overwhelmed by hundreds of tents.
The necessity of better structures sooii be-
came imperative for business purposes, and
lumber and other materials were brought
over from St. Michael for the construction of

useful on more than one occasion
in the earlier stages of the city's
development. But it is only fair to
say that although Nome was, as the
phrase is, " wide open," and devoted
to gambling and all the kindred wild
diversions, yet the public order was
far superior to that prevailing in
the Rocky Mountain mining towns oi
twenty years ago. Two newspapers,
selling at fifty cents a copy or twenty-
four dollars a year, were in existence
at last accounts ; and water-works,
lire department, an electric-light plant,
an electric street-car line, and a tele-
phone line are all projected, to be
put into operation as early in 1900
as practicable.

As there is more of money in Nome
than of any other of the modem con-
veniences, it is safe to predict that
an exchange will soon be effected,
giving the city what is needed to
make it a city in fact as well as in name.
The climate and latitude will, however, always
remain the same. . A temperature of from
zero to sixty degrees below may be expected
from November to June, with winds and fogs;
and a hundred miles of ice spread southward
before the town shuts off all communication
with the outside world for six months or
more every year. There is no night in
June, and no day in December ; and never a
tree breaks the monotony of moss-grown
mountain and "tundra" for hundreds of
miles along the coast. There are no trees,
indeed, until you get a hundred or more
miles back in the country to the northeast.
Yet the beach at Nome is, or was, strewn with
driftwood, and this was practically the only
supply of fuel for the entire community. Coal
at $100 or more per ton from Seattle was
out of the question. At first the driftwood

huge storehouses for the use of the big trad- cost only the labor of bringing it in and cut-

mg companies. Other buildings followed as
fast as the limited supply of labor and material
would allow; and when the cold weather
came, wooden houses had displaced most
of the tents — not all of them as substantial
and comfortable as the rigors of the climate
would seem to require, but much better than
walls and roofs of canvas. Two or three
churches and a hospital had been erected,
streets had been surveyed, and some wooden
sidewalks had been laid. A city government
had been organized, officials elected, and
police appointed.

A troop of twenty or more soldiers, sent
over from the post at St. Michael, proved

ting it up ; but the near-by supply was soon
exhausted, and as the wood had to be brought
farther the price rose until at last reports it
was between fifty and sixty dollars a cord.

While other commodities command higher
prices at Nome than elsewhere, Nome gold,
when it comes abroad, commands higher
prices than other gold. At the United States
assay offices or mints, Klondike gold is
worth but sixteen dollars and fifty cents an
ounce, while Nome gold is worth eighteen
dollars and fifty cents an ounce. Nome gold
is considerably darker in color than the
Klondike gold, and specimen nuggets of it
are not so handsome as the brighter yellow

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VALUE OF NOME GOLD— THE WAY TO CAPE NOME.

141

of the Yukon metal. "Dust" is the cur-
rency of the realm of Nome, and every busi-
ness house has its gold scales as a matter
of necessity. As sixteen dollars an ounce is
the accepted exchange value of the dust by
all dealers, it will be seen that they make a
very fair profit on the money in which they
are paid, in addition to the profit on the
goods they sell, which varies from 100 to
1,000 per cent, or more. For example, cigars
that cost four cents each in the States, were
sold last fall at fifty cents each ; cham-
pagne that cost from fifty cents to one dollar
and fifty cents a pint was selling at fifteen
dollars the pint ; a breakfast of two eggs,
coffee, and bread sold for one dollar and
fifty cents ; flour sold at fifty dollars a sack;
candles were -a dollar each ; shoes, ten to
fifteen dollars a pair ; and meat, from fifty
to seventy-five cents a pound.

One does not realize the full remoteness of
Nome until he stands upon its shore and looks
backward over the path he has come. Start-
ing, let us say, from New York City, Monday
afternoon, he reaches Chicago the next day ;
the next, he is in St. Paul ; during the next
two days he is flying over the plains of
Dakota and Montana and through the gorges
and passes of the mountains of Idaho ; the
next, he is spinning down beside the crystal
rivers of the Cascade Range, and on Satur-
day afternoon he reaches Seattle,, descend-
ing from the train a short distance from the
dock where his steamer waits to carry him
still onward. Next he is on Puget Sound for
one day ; then passing out by Cape Flattery,
he sails for an entire week westward over
the North Pacific, seeing no ship but his own.
Thus he sails for 1,700 miles. Then pushing
through either the Akutan or the Unimak
Pass, between the Alaska Peninsula and the
Aleutian Islands, he coasts along for miles at
the base of cliffs and crags rising straight
out of the sea and covered with millions of
water-fowl, slips in between the lofty moun-
tains to the west, and finally drops^ anchor
in Dutch Harbor. Here he stops to coal ;
then sets forward again for a further sail of
800 miles, almost straight to the north, over
the Bering Sea, requiring four or five days,
according to the weather. This brings him
at last to Nome City. He has come in all
nearly one-quarter of the way around the
world ; and nowhere in all the journey, as it
thrills him to reflect, have his feet touched
other than the sacred soil of Uncle Sam. But
along with the thrill at the vastness of his
country, he is apt to experience, as he looks
back, a decided feeling that if there is any

better way of getting home again than by
traversing that waste of waters, with its fogs
and winds and waves, its sea-sickness and its
other dire discomforts, he should like to take
it. There is another way — one through the
interior from St. Michael, up the Yukon, over
the White Pass, and down by boat from Skag-
way — but it requires twice as much time and
costs three or four times as much money.
Some idea of the tremendous Alaskan dis-
tances may be derived from the following
figures : from Nome to St. Michael it is 130
miles ; to Siberia, 315 miles ; to the Arctic
Circle, 150 miles ; to Seattle, by water, 2,500
miles, and by land, by way of the Yukon, 3,500
miles ; to San Francisco, by water, 2,800
miles, and by way of the Yukon, 4,300 miles;
to Dawson, 1,900 miles ; to Skagway, by sea,
2,300 miles ; to Tacoma, 2,550 miles ; to
Portland, 2,700 miles ; to New York, 5,600
miles.

The points of departure for Cape Nome on
the Pacific Coast are San Francisco, Portland,
Tacoma, and Seattle, with a preference for
Seattle, as the farthest north. The rail
routes to reach these points are the South-
em, Union, and Central Pacific to San Fran-
cisco ; the Northern Pacific to Seattle and
Tacoma ; the Great Northern to Seattle, and
the Northern Pacific from the north, and the
Southern Pacific from the south, to Portland.
The fare to Nome was the same from all Pa-
cific ports last season — $75 first-class, $60
second. This season it has been advanced by
all the regular lines and better class of irregu-
lars to $100 first-class and $75 second-class,
with freight at $40 per ton.

It is quite impossible to forecast with any
exactness the outcome for the people who
will try their fortunes in the new fields this
season. That great hardships await many of
them,with, perhaps, complete disappointment
to their hopes, is quite certain. But, on the
other hand, returns unparalleled in all the
history of gold-digging may come to others.
Here are some of the wonderful stories told
of those who fared well in the new fields last
season, when, as it is believed, only the merest
beginning toward getting at the treasure
there was made. One miner, who had
formerly been an engineer; tending a sta-
tionary engine at $75 a month, was able to
send 200 pounds of gold to his wife in Den-
ver as a birthday gift, a present worth in
the neighborhood of $45,000. A medical
student, lately graduated, went to seek his
fortune in the Klondike, and lost nearly all
that he had. He finally went on to Cape
Nome, where he rendered some service to

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142

SOME TYPICAL NOME 'FINDS:'

two miners who afterwards died, leaving
him claims from which he took $24,000, and
for one of which he refused an offer of $60,-
000. A Swede who, under the exposure of
his prospectings, had lost part of one foot
and an entire ear by freezing, took up a
claim, and before the season was over he
sent 750 pounds of gold to the mint at San
Francisco. A New Jersey man landed at
Cape Nome with $400. He took up one
claim, and bought two at
$100 each. Sixty days
later, he refused $35,000
for one of the claims ; still
later, he sent $47,000 to
the mint at San Francisco,
and his property is now
valued at $400,000. A
Lutheran missionary, re-
ceiving a salary of $600
a year, took up a claim
from which he sent 400
pounds of gold to the mint
in August, and his claims
are now worth $250,000.
He promises to give twenty
per cent, of his earnings
to the church. A young
man from San Francisco,
still in the twenties, cleared
up $80,000 from three
months* work. One miner
on the beach washed $8,200
out of a space forty-five
feet square. A newspaper
man, flat broke," suc-
ceeded in getting hold of a
bit of ground thirty by
twenty-four feet, and with
the help of two men took
out $5,200 in eight days.
A miner near him took out
$1,700 in one day. Two
men took advantage of a
very low tide, and going out
almost into the sea, secured $2,200 in two
days' time. C. D. Lane of California, now
one of the richest men of Nome City, had in
his safe in October, awaiting shipment, 1,400
pounds of gold, worth over $400,000. Four
men on the beach seven miles from Nome
City took out $3,000 in four days. On
August 29th, $6,400 was sluiced out of No.
8 Anvil in seven hours by six men. On Au-
gust 14th, Linderberg mine under the work
of six men jrielded $18,000 in eighteen hours.
No. 3 Snow Gulch yielded $1,000 an hour for

CAPE NOME INDIAN MOTHER AND CHILD.

From a photograph. Copyright, lSt)9, by
Pillsbury Panoramic View Co., Seattle.

hours with a rocker. All the good fortime
has not been in mining, however. The man
who owns all the hoi^es at Nome, eight in
number (as might be guessed, he is from
Kentucky), made $500 a day with them dur-
ing the mining season; and when the mining
stopped, he set about hauling the driftwood
which is the only available fuel, up from the
beach and storing it for the winter demand,
at from fifty to sixty dollars a cord. A law-
yer, who went to Nome
expecting to work as a
miner, found a demand for
legal talent ; and he and his
partner made by their legal
services over $100,000 in
dust, not to mention numer-
ous interests in claims on
contingents. One woman
became independently rich
on the profits of a hotel and
restaurant. Gamblers, of
course, do a brisk business,
and it is estimated that the
eight or ten in the town
clear $100,000 a month.

Of course, many of these
stories must, in their pro-
gress and repetition, get a
good ways from the original
fact. But there is not want-
ing something like official
proof of the extraordinary
yield of the Cape Nome gold
fields last season. For in-
stance, the report of United
States Assayer Wing at
Seattle— and Seattle is only
one of the points at which
gold is received from Cape
Nome — shows that since
the discovery of gold at
Cape Nome the receipts of
his office have almost dou-
bled, being $11,855,993.50
for the six months from June, 1899, to Janu-
ary, 1900, and only $6,881,540.98 for the six
months from January to June, 1899. What
percentage of this increase is Cape Nome
gold cannot be determined exactly ; but cer-
tainly a large part. The estimated output for
the coming season by the most conservative
is over two millions of dollars ; many claim
that it will reach ten millions of dollars.
And even the larger estimate scarcely seems
extravagant, when one considers that 25,000
or 30,000 persons may be putting forth their

twelve hours. A man named Loss — there's whole energy in getting out the gold already
nothing in a name— took out $240 in two discovered and in making new discoveries.

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THE NKJIIT RUN OF THE "OVERLAND."

By Elmore Elliott Peake,

Author of " Tlif Captain of the ' Aplir«Mllte,* '* and other Ktories.

A STORY OF DOMESTIC UVE AMONG THE RAILROAD PEOPLE.

ly powdered.

T snowed. The switch-lamps
at Valley Junction twinkled
faintly through the swirling
flakes. A broad band of
light from the night-oper-
ator's room shot out into the
gloom, and it, too, was thick-
Aside from this, the scattered
houses of the little hamlet slept in darkness
— all save one.

Through the drawn curtains of a cottage
which squatted in the right angle formed by
the intersecting tracks, a hundred yards or
more from the station, a light shone dully.
Inside, a young woman with a book in her
lap sat beside a sick-bed. On the bed lay
a young man of perhaps thirty.
They were not an ordinary couple, nor of

the type which prevailed in Valley Junction.
The rugged strength of the man, which shone
through even the pallor of sickness, was
touched and softened by an unmistakable
gentleness of birth ; and the dark eyes, which
rested motionless upon the further wall, were
thoughtful and liquid with intelligence. The
young woman was yet more striking. Her
loose gown, girdled at the waist with a tas-
seled cord, only half concealed the sturdy,
sweeping lines of the form beneath. Her
placid, womanly face was crowned with a
glorious mass of burnished auburn hair. Her
blue eyes, now fixed solicitously upon her
husband's face, were dark with what seemed
an habitual earnestness of purpose, and her
sweet mouth drooped seriously. After a
moment, though, she shook off her pensive

Editor's Notk.— The S. S. McChirf Co. hat* in press a novel by Mr. Peake, which, It is ihonjjht, will prove one of the
most popular books of the day. It is a realistic story of American life, told with great dramatic power.

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THE NIGHT RUN OF THE ''OVERLAND:'

mood. * * What are you thinking of, dear ? ' '
she asked, with a brightening face.

** Of you," answered her husband gravely,
tightening his grasp upon the hand she had
slipped into his. ** Comparing your life in
this wretched place, Sylvia, with what it was
before I married you ; and thinking of that
wonderful thing called * love, ' which can make
you content with the change.'*

The young woman bent forward with a lit-
tle spasmodic movement, and laid her beauti-
ful hair upon the pillow beside her husband's
dark strands. For a little she held herself
in a kind of breathless tension, her hand upoiT
his further temple, her full, passionate lips
pressed tight against his cheek.

**'Not content, my heart's husband, but
happy! " she whispered, ecstatically. After
a moment she lifted herself and quietly
smoothed her ruffled hair. ** 1 mustn't do
that again," she said, demurely. **The
doctor said you were not to be excited. I
guess I won't allow you to think any more
on that subject, either," she added, with
pretty tyranny. ** Only this, Ben — papa will
forgive us some day. He's good. Just give
him time. Some day you'll put away your
dear, foolish pride, and let me write to him,
and tell him where we are — no matter if he
did forbid it. And he'll write back, take
my word for it, and say, * Come home, chil-
dren, and be forgiven.' But whether he
does or not, I tell you, sweetheart, I would
sooner flutter about this little dovecote of
ours, and ride on the engine with you on
bright days, than be mistress of the finest
palace papa's money can build."

For a moment the pair looked the love
they could not speak. Then the spell was
broken by the distant scream of a locomo-
tive, half-drowned in the howling wind. Syl-
via glanced at the clock.

** There's the * Overland,' " she murmured.
** She's three minutes late. The wind is dead
against her. Some day, dear," she added,
fondly, **you will hold the throttle of that
engine, if you want to, and I shall be the
proudest girl in the land."

With a fine unconscious loyalty to the cor-
poration which gave them bread and butter,
they listened in silence to the dull roar of
the on-coming train. But instead, a moment
later, of the usual thunderous burst as the
train swept by, and the trembling of earth,
they heard the grinding of brake-shoes, the
whistle of the air, and then, in the lull which
followed, the thumping of the pump, like
some great, excited heart. At this unexam-
pled occurrence, the sick man threw his wife

a startled glance, and she sprang to the front
window and drew back the curtain. She was
just turning away again, still unsatisfied,
when there came a quick, imperative rap at
the door. Instantly connecting this rap with
the delayed train, Sylvia flung the door wide
open,*revealing three men, the foremost of
whom she recognized as the night-operator
at the Junction.

** Mrs. Fox," he began with nervous
haste, '' this is the general superintendent,
Mr. "

*' My name is Howard, madam," said the
official for himself, unceremoniously pushing
forward. '* We are in trouble. Our engi-
neer had a stroke of apoplexy fifteen miles
back, and I want your husband to take this
train. I know he's sick, but "

** But he's too sick, sir, to hold his head
up!" Sylvia exclaimed, aghast.

" What's the trouble ? " called Fox sharply,
from his bed.

An instant's hush fell over the little group
at the door, and then they all, as if moved
by one impulse, filed quickly back to the
sick-room.

** Mr. Fox, I hate to ask a sick man to get
out of bed and pull a train," began the gen-
eral superintendent hurriedly, before Sylvia
could speak. ** But we're tied up here hard
and fast, with not another engineer in sight ;
and every minute that train stands there the
company loses a thousand dollars. If you
can pull her through to Stockton, and will,
it will be the best two hours' work that
you ever did. I will give you five hundred
dollars."

Fox had at first risen to his elbow, but he
now sank back, dizzy and trembling from
weakness. In a moment, though, he was up
again. **I can't do it, Mr. Howard! I'm
too sick!" he exclaimed, bitterly. ** If it
weren't a physical impossibility— if I weren't
too dizzy to hold my head up "

He broke ofl^ abruptly, and pressed his
hand in a dazed way to his brow. Then he
fixed his excited eyes upon his wife. The
other men followed his gaze, plainly regarding
him as out of his head. But Sylvia turned
pale, and leaned against the wall for support.
She had caught her husband's meaning.

''She'll take the train, sir!" exclaimed
Fox, eagerly; '*and she'll take it through
safe. She knows an engine as well as I, and
every inch of the road. Sylvia, you must
go. It is your duty."

The superintendent, staggered at this
amazing proposition, gasped, and stared at
the young woman. She stood with her di-

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THE NIGHT RUN OF THE *' OVERLAND.''

145

lated eyes fastened upon her husband, her
chest rising and f aHing, and blood-red tongues
of returning color shooting through her
cheeks. Yet even in that crucial moment,
when her little heart was fluttering like a
wounded bird, something in Sylvia's eye —
something hard and stubborn — fixed the skep-
tical superintendent's attention, and he drew
a step nearer. Sylvia, with twitching nos-
trils and swelling throat, turned upon him
almost desperately.

** I will go," she said, in a low, resigned
voice. '* But some one must stay here with
him."

'* This young man will attend to all that,
never fret," cried Howard gaily, in his re-
lief, turning to the night-operator.

Whatever doubts the superintendent may
have harbored yet of the fair engineer's
nerve and skill were plainly remov^ when
Sylvia returned from an inner room, after
an absence of scarcely sixty seconds. An
indomitable courage was stamped upon her
handsome features, and she bore herself with
the firm, subdued mien of one who knows the
gravity of her task, yet has faith in herself
for its performance. One of her husband's
caps was drawn down tightly over her thick
hair. She had slipped into a short walking-
skirt, and as she advanced she calmly but
swiftly buttoned her jacket. Without hesi-
tation, she stepped to the bedside and kissed
her husband good-by,

** Be brave, girl ! " he said encouragingly,
though his own voice shook. ** You have
got to make seventy-five miles an hour, or
better ; but you've got the machine to do it
with. Give her her head on all the grades
except Four Mile Creek— don't be afraid! —
and give her a little sand on Beechtree Hill.
Good-by — and God keep you! "

As Sylvia stood beneath the great black
hulk of iron and steel which drew the ** Over-
land " — compared with which her husband's
little local engine was but a toy — and glanced
down the long line of mail, express, and
sleeping-cars, laden with human freight, her
heart almost failed her again. The mighty
boiler towered high above her in the dark-
ness like the body of some horrible antedilu-
vian monster, and the steam rushed angrily
from the dome, as though the great animal
were fretting under the unaccountable delay,
and longed again to be off on the wings of
the wind, rending the tempest with its iron
snout, and awakening the sleeping hills and
hollows with its hoarse shriek.

* * You are a brave little woman, ' ' she heard

the superintendent saying at the cab-step.
'* Don't lose your nerve — but make time
whatever else you do. Every minute you
make up is money in the company's pocket,
and they won't forget it. Besides," he
added, familiarly, ** we've got a big gun
aboard, and I want to show him that a little
thing like this don't flustrate lis any. If you
draw into Stockton on time, I'll add five hun-
dred dollars to that check ! Remember that."
And he lifted her up to the cab.

The fireman, a young Irishman, stared at
Sylvia as she stepped into the cab as though
she were a banshee ; but she made no expla-
nations, and, after a glance at the steam and
the water gages, climbed up to the engi-
neer's high seat. The hand she laid upon
the throttle-lever trembled slightly — as well
it might ; the huge iron horse quivered and
stiffened, as if bracing itself for its task;
noiselessly and imperceptibly it moved ahead,
expelled one mighty breath, then another
and another, quicker and quicker, shorter
and shorter, until its respirations were lost
in one continuous flow of steam . The * * Over-
land " was once more under way.

The locomotive responded to Sylvia's touch
with an alacrity which seemed almost human,
and which, familiar though she was with the
work, thrilled her through and through. She
glanced at the time-table. They were twelve
minutes behind time. The twenty miles be-
tween the Junction and Grafton lay in a
straight, level line. Sylvia determined to
use it to good purpose, and to harden her-
self at once — as, indeed, she must— to the
dizzy speed required by the inexorable sched-
ule. She threw the throttle wide open, and
pushed the reverse-lever into the last notch.
The great machine seemed suddenly animated
with a demoniac energy, and soon they were
shooting through the black, storm-beaten
night like an avenging bolt from the hand of
a colossal god. The headlight — so dazzling
from in front, so insufficient from behind—
danced feebly ahead upon the driving cloud
of snow. But that was all. The track was
illuminated for scarcely fifty feet, and the
night yawned beyond like some engulfing
abyss. Sylvia momentarily closed her eyes
and prayed that no unfortunate creature —
human or brute— might wander that night
between the rai^s.

The fireman danced attendance on the fire,
watching his heat and water as jealously as
a doctor might watch the pulse of a fevered
patient. Now the furnace-door was closed,
now it hung on its latch ; now it was closed
again, and now, when the ravenous maw

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THE NIGHT RUN OF THE ''OVERLAND:'

within cried for more coal, it was flung wide
open, lighting the driving cloud of steam
and smoke above with a spectral glare.

Sylvia worked with the fireman with a fine
intelligence which only the initiated could
understand ; for an engine is a steed whose
speed depends upon its driver. She opened
or closed the injector, to economize heat and
water, and eased the steam when it could be
spared. Thus together they coaxed, cajoled,
threatened, and goaded the wheeled monster
until, like a veritable thing of life, it seemed
to strain every nerve to do their bidding, and
whirled them faster and faster. Yet, as
they flashed through Grafton— scarcely dis-
tinguishable in the darkness and the storm
—they were still ten minutes behind time.
Sylvia shut her lips tightly. If it was nec-
essary to defy death on the curves and grades
ahead, defy death she would.

The sticky snow on her glass now cut off
Sylvia's vision ahead. It mattered little, for
her life and the lives of the sleeping passen-
gers behind were in higher hands than hers,
and only the All-seeing Eye could see that
night. Another train ahead, an open switch,
a fallen rock or tree — one awful crash, and
the engine would become a gridiron for her
tender flesh, while the palatial cars behind,
now so full of warmth and light and comfort,
would suddenly be turned into mere shapeless
heaps of death. Yet Sylvia cautiously opened
her door a little, and held it firmly against
the hurricane while she brushed off the snow.
At the same time she noticed that the head-
light was burning dim.

**The headlight is covered with snow!"
she called to the fireman.

The young fellow instantly drew his cap
tighter, braced himself, and swung open his
door. At the first cruel blast, the speed of
which was that of the gale added to that of
the train, he closed his eyes and held his
breath; then, taking his life in his hands, he
slipped out upon the wet, treacherous run-
ning-board of the pitching locomotive, made
his way forward, and cleared the glass. Syl-
via waited with bated breath until his head
appeared in the door again.

**Fire up, please!" she exclaimed, ner-
vously, for the steam had fallen off a pound.

As the twinkling street-lamps of Nancy-
ville came into view, Sylvia blew a long blast.
But there was no tuneful reverberation among
the hills that night, for the wind, like some
ferocious beast of prey, pounced upon the
sound and throttled it in the teeth of the
whistle. The Foxes shopped in Nancyville
— they could shop fifty miles from home as

easily as fifty rods— and the town, by com-
parison with Valley Junction, was beginning
to seem like a little city to Sylvia. But to-
night, sitting at the helm of that transcon-
tinental train, which burst upon the town
like a cyclone, with a shriek and a roar, and
then was gone again all in a breath, she
scarcely recognized the place ; and it seemed
little and rural and mean to her, a mere eddy
in the world's great current.

One-third of the one hundred and forty-nine
miles was now gone, and still the "Overland "
was ten minutes behind, and it seemed as if no
human power could make up the time. They
were winding through the Tallahula Hills,
where the road was as crooked as a serpent's
trail. The engine jerked viciously from side
to side, as if angrily resenting the pitiless
goading from behind, and twice Sylvia was
nearly thrown from her seat. The wheels sav-
agely ground the rails at every curve, and
made them shriek in agony. One side of the
engine first mounted upward, like a ship upon
a wave, then suddenly sank, as if engulfi^d.
One instant Sylvia was lifted high above her
fireman, the next dropped far below him.

Yet she dared not slacken speed. The'
cry of * * Time ! Time ! Time ! ' ' was dinned
into her ears with every stroke of the pistonA
Her train was but one wheel— nay, but one
cog on one wheel- in the vast and compli-
cated machine of transportation. Yet one
slip of that cog would rudely jar the whole
delicate mechanism from coast to coast. In-
deed, in Sylvia's excited fancy, the spirit of
world-wide commercialism seemed riding on
the gale above her, like Odin of old in the
Wildhunt, urging her on and on.

Something of all this was in the mind of
the fireman, too, in a simpler way ; and when
he glanced at his gentle superior from time
to time, as she clung desperately to the arm-
rest with one hand and clutched the reverse-
lever with the other, with white, set face,
but firm mouth and fearless eye, his blue
eyes flashed with a chivalric fire.

The train dashed into Carbondale, and Syl-
via made out ahead the glowing headlight of
the east-bound train, side-tracked and wait-
ing for the belated '* Overland," her engi-
neer and conductor doubtless fuming and fret-
ting. For the first time during the run Sylvia
allowed a morbid, nervous fear to take hold
of her. Suppose the Switch were open ! She
knew that it mud be closed, but the sicken-
ing possibility presented itself over and over
again, with its train of horrors, in the brief
space of a few seconds. She held her breath
and half closed her eyes as they thundered

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THE NIGHT RUN OF THE ** OVERLAND:'

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down upon the other train; and when the
engine lurched a little as it strnck the switch,
her heart leaped into her mouth. The sus-
pense was mercifully short., though, for in
an instant, as it were, they were past the
danger, past the town, and once more scour-
ing the open country.

In spite of the half-pipe of sand which she
let run as thev climbed Beechtree Hill — the
last ct the Tallahulas — it seemed to Sylvia
as if they would never reach the summit and
as if the locomotive had lost all its vim.
Yet the speed was slow only by contrast,
and in reality was terrific ; and the tireless
steed upon whose high haunch Sylvia was
perched was doing the noblest work of the
night. At last, though, the high level of
the Barren Plains was gained, and for forty
miles — which were reeled off in less than
thirty minutes — they swept along like an
albatross on the crest of a gale, smoothly
and almost noiselessly in the deadening snow.

Sylvia suspected that the engine was doing
no better right here than it did every night
of the year, and that when on time. Yet
when she glanced from the time-table to the
clock, as they clicked over the switch-points
of Melrose with a force which seemed suffi-
cient to snap them off like icicles, she was
chagrined to discover that they were still
eight minutes behind. They were now ap-
proaching the long twelve- mile descent of
Pour Mile Creek, with a beautiful level stretch
at the bottom through the Spirit River Val-
ley. Sylvia came to a grim determination.
Half a dozen times previously she had won-
dered, in her unfamiliarity with heavy trains
and their magnificent speed, if she were fall-
ing short of or exceeding the safety limit ;
and half a dozen times she had been on the
point of appealing to the fireman. But her
pride, even in that momentous crisis, had re-
strained her ; and, moreover, the time-table,
mutely urging her faster and faster, seemed
finswer enough. But just before they struck
the gr^de, the responsibility of her determi-
nation— contrary, too, to her husband's ad-
vice— seemed too much to bear alone.

'* I am going to let her have her head! '*
she cried out, in her distress.

The fireman did not answer — perhaps he
did not hear — and, setting her teeth, Sylvia
assumed the grim burden alone. The pon-
derous locomotive fell over the brow of the
hill, with her throttle agape, and the fire
seething in her vitals with volcanic fury.
Then she lowered her head like a maddened
bull in its charge. The long, heavy train,
sweeping down the sharp descent, might fitly

have been likened to some winged dragon
flying low to earth, so appallingly flightlike
was the motion. It seemed to Sylvia as
though they dropped down the grade as an
aerolite drops from heaven — silent, irresisti-
ble, awful, touched only by the circumam-
bient air.

All Sylvia's familiar methods of gaging
speed were now at fault, but she believed
that for the moment they were running two
miles to every minute. The thought that a
puny human hand — a woman's hand, more-
over, contrived for the soft offices of love —
could stay that grand momentum, seemed
wildly absurd; and as Sylvia, under the
strange lassitude born of her deadly peril,
relaxed her tense muscles and drowsily closed
her eyes, she smiled, with a ghastly humor,
at the trust of the sleeping passengers in her !

She was rudely shaken out of her lethargy
as the train struck a slight curve half way
down the grade. The locomotive shiied like
a frightened steed, and shook in every iron
muscle. The flanges shrieked against the
rails, the cab swayed and cracked, and the
very earth seemed to tremble. For a mo-
ment the startled girl was sure they were
upon the ties, or at least had lost a wheel.
But it was only the terrible momentum lift-
ing them momentarily from the track, and in
a few seconds —though every second meant
150 feet —the fire-eating behemoth righted
itself. Yet its beautiful equilibrium was
gone; and, as if abandoning itself to its
driver's mad mood, the engine rolled and
pitched, and rose and fell, like a water-logged
vessel in a storm. The bell, catching the mo-
tion, began to toll ; and the dolorous sound,
twisted into weird discord by the gale, fell
upon the ears of the pallid engineer and fire-
man like the notes of a storm-tossed bell-
buoy sounding the knell of the doomed.

The young fireman, who up to this time had
maintained a stoical calm, suddenly sprang
to the floor of the cab, with a face torn by
superstitious fear.

** What if she leaves the rails! " he cried.

But instantly recovering himself, he sprang
back to his seat, with the blood of shame on
his cheeks.

** Am I running too fast ? " shouted Sylvia.

** Not when we're behind time! " he dog-
gedly shouted back;

As the track became smoother, the engine
grew calmer; but its barred tongue licked
up the flying space for many a mile before
the momentum of that perilous descent was
lost. As the roar of their passage over the
long bridge spanning the Mattetunk, twenty

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THE NIGHT RUN OF THE ''OVERLAND.

miles from Stockton, died away, the fireman
called oat cheerily :

** On time, madam!"

Ilis voice reached Sylvia's swinmiing ears
faint and distant as she nodded dizzily on
her seat, bracing herself against the reverse-
lever.

Meanwhile, in the general superintendent's
private car, at the extreme rear of the train,
a party of men still sat up, smoking their
Uavanas and sipping their wine. One mem-
ber of this party was the ** big gun " men-
tioned to Sylvia by the general superinten-
dent— the president of the Mississippi Valley,
Omaha, and Western Railway. He was a
large man, with luxuriant, snow-white hair;
and, though his face was benevolent, even
paternal, every line of it betrayed the inflex-
ible will which had lifted ita owner from the
roof of a freight car to the presidential chair
of a great road.

Mr. Howard, the general superintendent,
was regaling the party with an account of
his experience in securing a substitute en-
gineer at Valley Junction. For reasons after-
ward divulged, he suppressed, though, the
most startling feature of his story ; namely,
the sex of the engine-runner he had secured.
But he compensated his hearers for this omis-
sion with a most dramatic account of the
heroism of the sick man, whom he unblush-
ingly represented as having risen from his
bed and taken charge of the engine.

Mr. Staniford, the distinguished guest,
listened quietly until Howard was done.
** Charlie, you are a heartless wretch," he
observed, smiling; and when Howard pro-
tested, with a twinkle in his eye, that there
was no other way, the president added : ** If
it had been on my road, I should have held
the train all night rather than drag a sick
man from his bed."

** We all know how many trains are held
all night on your road, Staniford," answered
Howard, laughing. '* Do you happen to re-
member the story of an ambitious young en-
gineer who picked himself up out of a wTeck
with a broken arm, and stepped into a new
engine, and pulled his train through to the
end of the run ? " he asked significantly.

** I was young then and working for glory,
and no superintendent ordered me to do it, or
I should probably have refused," said Stani-
ford, good-naturedly. He added soberly:
** These engineers are a heroic set, and,
Charlie, sometimes I think we don't always
do them justice."

** I'll do this one justice," answered How-
ard, warmly.

The party dropped off to bed, one by one.
The general suptrriutendent himself finally
rose and looked at his watch. As he turned
and made his way forward, his careless ex-
pression gave way to one of concern. His
mind was evidently on the gentle engine-run-
ner. Possibly he had recurring doubts of
her skill and courage ; but perhaps the fact
that he had daughters of his own gave his
thoughts, as much as anything else, a graver
turn. Three cars ahead he met the con-
ductor, who also seemed a little nervous, and
they talked together for some moments. The
train, at the time, was snapping around the
choppy curves in the Taliahula Hills like the
lash of a whip, and the two men had difii-
culty in keeping their feet.

** Fast, but not too fast, Dackins," ob-
served the superintendent, half inquiringly.

** What I call a high safety," answered
the conductor.

*' But fearful in the cab, eh ? "

'* Nothing equal to it, sir," rejoined Dack-
ins, dryly.

Howard started back toward the private
car about the time the train struck Beechtree
Hill. He paused in a vestibule, opened the
door, and laid his practised ear to the din
outside. Then he gently closed the door,
as if to slam it might break the spell, and
complacently smiled. When the train reached
the level of Barren Plains, and the sleepers
ceased their swaying and settled down to a
smooth, straightaway motion— that sure an-
nunciator of high speed the superintendent
rubbed his palms together very much like a
man shaking hands with himself. When he
got back to his car, he found Mr. Staniford
still up, smoking, and leaning back in the
luxurious seat wUh half-closed eyes. Stani-
ford motioned Howard to sit down beside
him, and laid his hand familiarly on the lat-
ter's knee.

*' Confound you, Charlie, you've got that
sick engineer on my heart, with your inflam-
matory descriptions, for which you probably
drew largely on your imagination. I have
been sitting here thinking about him. Con-
fess, now, that you exaggerated matters a
little."

The superintendent chuckled like a man
who knows a thing or two, if he only chose
to tell. ** Well, I did, in one respect; but
in another I fell short." He paused for ef-
fect, and then continued exultingly : ** Stani-
ford, I've got the best railroad story to give
the papers that has been brought out in years,
and if I don't get several thousand dollars'
worth of free advertising out of it, my name

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THE NIGHT RUN OF THE ''OVERLAND.''

149

isn't C. W. Howard. The best of it is, it's
the gospel truth."

'* Let's have it," said Staniford, smiling.

** Well, between you and me, that man Pox
was a mighty sick man — too sick to hold his
head up, in fact." Howard paused inquir-
ingly as Staniford turned sharply, and gave
him a glance.

**Pox, did you say?" asked Staniford.
" What's his first name?"

** I don't know. He's a tall, smooth-faced
man, with dark hair and eyes. Rather in-
telligent-looking. What do you know about
him ? He's a comparatively new man with
us."

The old man's fingers trembled slightly as
he flicked the ashes from his cigar. ** I
don't know that I know him," he answered,
in a constrained tone. ** If he's the man I
have in mind, he's all right. Go on."

'* Ever run on your road ? " inquired How-
ard, deliberately.

'* Yes, yes. But that has nothing to do
with it," returned Staniford, with strange
impatience. ** Go on."

*' Well," continued the superintendent,
with a mildly curious glance at his compan-
ion, ** he was altogether too sick to pull a
plug. But it seems that his wife has been
in the habit of riding with him, and knows
the road and an engine as well as he does.
To come to the point — and this is my story,
which I didn't tell the boys for the sake of
their nerves," he added, with sparkling eyes
— ** the * Overland ' at this moment is in the
hands of a girl, sir— Pox's wife! "

It seemed a long time before either man
spoke again. Howard stared in blank amaze-
ment at the pallid face of the president, un-
able to understand the old railroader's agita-
tion, and unwilling to attribute it to fear
from being in the hands of an engineer who
might lose her head. Then Staniford took
the other's hand, and held it in an iron grip.

** Charlie, it's my own little baby girl! "
h2 said, huskily.

Howard was familiar with the story of the
tropement of Staniford's daughter with one

of the M. v., 0., and W. engineers, and the
situation flashed over him in an instant.
After a moment — during which, as he after-
ward confessed, he could not keep his mind
off the added sensation this new fact would
give his advertising story — he said enthusi-
astically: ** She's a heroine, Staniford, and
worthy of her father! "

During the perilous descent of Pour Mile
Creek, the private car rocked like a cradle,
and cracked and snapped in every 'joint.
Staniford clung helplessly to Howard's hand,
with the tears trickling down his cheeks.
When the bottom was at fast reached and
the danger was over — the danger at the front
— the president drew his handkerchief and
wiped the great drops of sweat from his
brow. The ex-engineer knew the agony
through which his child had passed.

The operator at Valley Junction had flashed
the news along the wire, and when the " Over-
land " steamed up to the union depot in Stock-
ton, at 1:07, twenty seconds ahead of time,
a curious and enthusiastic throng of lay-over
passengers and railroad men pressed around
the engine. When Sylvia appeared in the
gangway, her glorious sun-kissed hair glis-
tening with melted snow, and her pale face
streaked with soot, the generous crowd burst
into yells of applause. The husky old vet-
eran runner who was to take the girl's place
stepped forward, by virtue of his office, as
it were, and lifted Sylvia down. Por a mo-
ment she reeled, partly from f aintness, partly
from the sickness caused by the pitching
of the locomotive. Then she saw pushing
unceremoniously through the throng the
general superintendent and — she started and
looked again — her father !

When President Staniford, struggling to
control his emotion, clasped his daughter to
his bosom, her overstrained nerves gave way
under the double excitement; and, laying
her head wearily upon his shoulder, and with
her hands upon his neck, she began to cry in
a choked, pitiful little way. ** Oh, papa, call
me your dear little red-head once more!"
she sobbed.

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THE MEMBER FROM THE XIXTII.

By James Gardner Sanderson.
A STORY OF DOMESTIC AXT) POLITICAL LIFE.

. -^HE contract man of the Asphalt
Company had already been
twice to the house to confer
with Michael, and now, even
while Michael lay ill, he had
come again. It was a matter
to be mentioned with much
pride to Mrs. Monahan as
Nora did her Monday's wash-
ing on the back stoop; and
Mrs. Monahan's trans-rail-
inged propitiation, bom of her landlord's
rising importance in the community of Shan-
ty Hill, was deeply gratifying. To know a
member of the Select ('ouncil, however that
organization may belie its adjective, is some-
thing. ** Isn't he the b'y now!" ejacu-
lated Mrs. Monahan, admiringly raising two
red and soapy hands.

To which Nora, not even trying to repress
her honest pride, rejoined: ** I'm thinkin'
me Mike is as good as anny of thim. It
isn't ivery man has min like that a-fpllowin'
him around."

** An' to think of hims havin' a saloon and
ownin' this house at his age," continued Mrs.
Monahan. ** Dear, dear, and my man's old
enough to be his father -widout a cent."

** There wor three carriages came yister-
day," said Nora joyously, while her soft
cheeks bloomed. ** Squires, wid silk hats
and illigant clothes, I think they was."

Mrs. Monahan laughed indulgently. Nora's
gray eyes and open Irish face bid strongly
for indulgence —even from her own sex.
** Sure, we have no squires here," she re-
plied. ** Ye should know that be now wid
the three years ye' re over. 'Tis the street
car and telephone companies' managers more
like," she added shrewdly.

'* And why ? " asked Nora blankly. She
was too used to her mistakes to trouble over
them.

** 'Tis his infloonce they want," said Mrs.
Monahan meditatively. '* I denno— but I've
seen thim big wans before, and ye can make
up your mind, Mrs. Conry, that they're af ther
it."

** Maybe," answered Nora sedately, after

l.iO

a little moment of uncomprehending silence.
•* It's me Mike they're afther, though; that
I know."

** And well ye may. He's a great lad in
the ward anny how," said Mrs. Monahan,
** and it's me that hopes to see him mayor
some day. Will ye not come over and luk
at me pigs, Mrs. Conr>' ? "

Within the house Michael lay ill and fever-
ish. It was against the doctor's orders, but
the contract man of the Tonsor Asphalt Com-
pany was with him.

The councilman was but one of a hundred.
Bom in the County of Kerry, he had set his
face and ambitions toward America some five
years before the vii^it of the contract man
above mentioned. He had left Ireland and
the shackles of its bogs and evictions, chiefly
for the sake of Nora's gray eyes; but the
pungent odor of his native peat was scarcely
free from his nostrils before that had become
a secondary matter. His calculating heart
and soaring ambition permitted nothing else.
The sorrow of their parting vanished ; he flung
himself body and soul into the game and won.

After the first inevitable struggle in New
York, he had drifted w^estward, and finally
reaching IVnnsylvania and the manufactur-
ing city of Dalton, his bark had become
wedged in the current. During the first
year he ran a ** speak-easy," until it brought
him enough profits to embark legitimately in
a small saloon. Then, under the protecting
scroll of a license, he had made his venture.
From this vantage ground his eyes first looked
on ward politics with their wondrous possi-
bilities. They attracted him, and his native
shrewdness, coupled with a certain quickness
in reading his fellow-men, soon gained him
his footing. His energy and the success of
his saloon increased it. At the end of the
second year, he had become a captain on the
city's police force, and the right-hand man
of the mighty Coogan, who held the Ninth
in the hollow of his palm.

Incidentally, the ofiice was not without
profit. He bought a lot next his saloon, bor-
rowed money from Coogan, built a double-
house, and, after much cogitation, sent for

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THE MEMBER FROM THE NINTH.

151

Nora. She had come; fresh, comely above
all other women in the Ninth, quaint in her
never-failing wonder at the great new world,
and admirable in her unswerving, trusting
adoration of Michael. The hills and dales
of Kerry were in her gentle gray eyes, and
her soft brogue, falling gratefully upon the
ears of the ward, sent many a warped Irish-
American memory wandering back to an all
but buried past. The hearts of men and
women instinctively went out to her in pro-
tecting tenderness. Even Coogan, the thin-
faced, far-sighted **boss," with all his un-
scrupulous schemes of plunder, found his
heart beating a faster measure in her pres-
ence.

But because Michael loved her and knew
that she loved him, trusting in his honor and
strictest integrity with the implicit faith that
a woman gives to her husband before ho
sways from the pedestal on which she has
placed him, Nora lived happily upon the
proceeds of steals and the candid filchings
of ward money, unknowing and uncor-
rupted. Knowing that these things which
had become almost second nature to him
would be to her not less than heart-break-
uig> he guarded her ignorance sedulous-
ly. To himself he often said, ** Sure, she'd
raise fury if she knew. *Twon't do."
To her he growled in response to timid in-
quiries regarding certain inexplicable trans-
actions, ** It's not for you to know. Wud
I tell ye and ye Mrs. Monahan, and lave me
be the laugh of the ward ? '* It was never
necessary to further protect the star ses-
sions of the ring which met in the rear room
of ** Conry's," next door, for Nora's softer
brogue was never raised in protest. Her
faith in Michael suffered Ao doubts. The
king could do no wrong.

In two years' time Michael had risen to
greater successes, riding into the Select Coun-
cil on the crest of the usual wave of doubtful
reform. Prosperity poured in an unending
stream upon the Conrys. The cabbages
spread magnificently; the ducks waddled
fatly, and the two children throve through
lusty babyhood. Coogan only was discon-
tented, and growing to like Nora more than
a peaceful mind permitted, frowned darkly.
His position and intimacy gave him priv-
ileges. ** I made 'im, Nora; y' should be
thankin' me, girl," he said, devouring her
with hungry eyes. ** Aye ! And d'ye know
why, Nora ? D'ye know why ? " he added
tenderly.

And Nora with innocent coquetry, albeit
startled a little deep in her heart at his tone.

replied saucily: **Nor do I care, Coogan.
Sure ye can't make me believe me Mike needs
help of anny one."

Through all the visits of the mysterious
silk-hatted men who came in carriages, and
through all of Michael's increase in girth
and riches, she remained in contented igno-
rance of ways and means. Her pride and
simple belief in his success and integrity
grew stronger daily. Even Coogan's calls,
which grew more frequent with the passing
of time, and which, though made on the plea
of business with Michael, generally occurred
when he was away, left no trace upon her
clear-eyed, wholesome innocence.

The contract man sat on a chair and
watched him lazily through a cloud of cigar
smoke. His polished shoes rested flatly upon
the red and green jute rug, and his open coat
afforded glimpses of a heavily embroidered
waistcoat and a fob, with which he played
absently. **It ought to go through," he
said slowly.

'* 'Tis r-robbin' the city," replied the sick
man cautiously. '* It's the same pave you
people put down five years ago, and luk at
th' condition av it now."

** Well — it's all getting mighty hot," said
the contract man, yawning until his eyes dis-
appeared in the rolls of his fat face. *' You,
being sick, don't know. Just thought I'd
drop up and try to show you our position,
you know. Half the boys want us to repair,
and half favor a city plant with a brick pave.
Neidlinger and Hawkes, of course, want the
city to run it. They're not selling bricks
and cement for nothing. It's ,a bad fight,
though, and your vote for us would clinch it.
Both sides are firm as rocks, and we want
one man for our majority. We'll put in a
good pave, if we're let, too. A fair contract,
and a ten-year guarantee."

** What's your bid ? " asked the sick man
indifferently.

** A hundred and seventy-five thousand for
resurfacing and keeping every mile of pave
in town in repair for ten years."

** Ye'llmakealoto' money," said Michael.

** If we get the contract," said the con-
tract man smoothly. ** And I can assure
you, Conry, that our friends won't regret
it," he added significantly.

** Well -I donno," said Michael. ** I ain't
been down in some time. I cud go down
Thursday, I suppose, but I guess now I won't.
I'm too sick."

The contract man cleared his throat. He
felt that the councilman's speech was tenta-

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THE MEMBER FROM THE NINTH.

tive, for these were not their first dealings
together. Nevertheless, some things re-
quire diplomatic handling. ** It ought to
go through," he said again, persuasively.
** Yes, it ought! The city'll be disgraced if
this keeps on. Besides— Pd like to see you
on the right side. If —if there is any friendly
arrangement we can make " .

Michael thought of his mortgages, certain
notes held by indefinite corporations, and
lastly of Neidlinger and Hawkes's offer
of the day before.

*' I mighty near broke my leg over that
steam-roller of yours on Linden Street last
year," he said moodily, staring at the ceil-
ing, **and I donno about me helpin' you.
What have you iver done for me ? I owe
you nothin'. It's no help but a damage suit
of fifteen hundred I'll bring, Tm thinkin'--
and that as soon as I get out."

The man smiled sleepily again. He was
used to the work ; but this seemed unusually
easy. ** That can be settled out of court,"
he said easily, rising and smoothing his hat.
** We don't want any trouble with you. If
you really think you're damaged that badly,
I'll see that you get it— unless the mayor
vetoes. It's a good deal, though."

" It's that or nothin'," said Michael grimly.
** There's other claims I have of the kind
against other people," he added. **Sind
me wife in as ye go out. I think me head
is goin' to break. Fifteen hundred, mind
ye. No cint less."

** I'll take care of it," said the contract
man, ** if that's the least."

** It is," said Michael. ** Me feelings
were hurted by your r- roller."

The Select Branch of the Dalton City Coun-
cil, that august, deliberative body which,
with its companion organization, the Com-
mon (*ouncil, holds the fortunes of so many
corporations and contractors balanced upon
its giant thumb, had convened for its regu-
lar Thursday evening's session. The gray-
haired president sat on his platform gazing
abstractedly at the crowds which thronged
the pillared galleries. On the floor the mu-
nicipal fathers lounged in awesome and obese
ease in their semi-circle of armchairs, or
strolled here and there, gathering in knots
and small oases of twos and threes, bandy-
ing persiflage of a dignity commensurate
with their station.

The biggest fight of the year was on. That
*' ten-ten tacled octopus," as the Congress-
man's daily had dubbed the Tonsor Asphalt
Company, was in the field to try conclusions

with the virtuous Neidlinger and Hawkes,
leaders of the city-plant faction. The cor-
poration was again at war with the individual.

Yet the question of repairing the streets
had risen to such a position of burning im-
portance in the city's welfare that every
land-owner was bound up in its interests.
Five large manufactories had already been
lost by the Board of Trade because of the
high rate of taxation and the poor streets.
The immediate mitigation of the latter evil,
at least, meant much to that short-sighted
and narrow-minded citizen who was foolish
enough to demand stridently — as if he could
be answered — ** where the money was going
to?"

As the fit*st dull routine of business dragged
on stragglers drifted in. The galleries be-
came more crowded. It had become noised
abroad that on this night the famous dead-
lock would at last be broken, and that the
Asphalt Company had a card up its sleeve.
An air of general expectancy and tense ex-
citement was manifest as the hour for bring-
ing up the resolution drew near. A buzz of
subdued conversation hummed through the
anxious balconies. But in the gallery the
contract man smiled sleepily— albeit a little
anxiously, for Michael had not yet arrived.
In a few moments he rose, elbowed his way
through the crowd, and disappeared. Five
minutes later he imperturbably pushed back
to his seat.

Ten minutes afterward the venerable pre-
siding oflicer placidly declared Mr. Hawkes,
who moved to refer the asphalt question to a
committee, of which he suggested the names,
to be out of order, and in the midst of a
painful silence the clerk wearily rose to read
the resolution and to call the roll. As he
had done both on this question for six con-
secutive meetings, and as he dealt not in
bricks, cement, or asphalt, he was somewhat
tired.

The crowd in the gallery craned their
necks. Those who were nearest the rail
leaned far over, straining their ears to catch
every word. Almost to a man they would
have voted for the city plant, for they feared
with the fear of poverty-stricken property-
owners the awarding of the contract to the
Tonsor Asphal t Company. It meant ten more
years of corruption; it meant the retirement
in disgust and discouragement of. those few
sterling men in the councils who held the
honor of the city and the welfare of its citi-
zens at heart. The question as to whether
the government of Dalton's 100,000 souls
lay in the hollow of one corporation's hand

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THE MEMBER FROM THE NINTH

153

hung upon the flimsiest of threads. The cor-
poration's victory would be the last glaring
proof that the councils were, body and soul,
its property.

And all the crowd left Michael Conry out
of theii' reckonings. It was known that he
lay bound down by typhoid fever ; the con-
tract man had been cunning enough for that,
so they were justified. But in the gallery
the contract man yawned. He felt that it
was his party.

** Ferber," droned the clerk.

** Aye.''

**0'Malley."

'*No."

''McCarthy."

**No."

**Getstall."

**Aye."

Evenly the votes broke, ward by ward,
first, second, third, fourth— there was no
wavering in the ranks. It was a fight to
the death. Fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth;
still even. The anxious galleries held their
breath.

** Conry— ninth," called the clerk as usual.

There was no answer. The president be-
gan slowly and stiffly to worm into his over-
coat.

*' Conry."

• Still the silence of absence. No answer.
The asphalt man smiled as though bored.
For the last time the clerk's voice droned
the name. ** Conry."

''Aye!''

The clerk wheeled, looked up in the gal-
lery savagely— and the contract man looked
back at him. He leaned forw^ard, his pudgy
hands hooked viciously around the railing;
and his eyes, now far from sleepy, glared
a malevolent, tiger green. He was smil-
ing snarlingly, like a wolf in a corner.
The president stopped with his arm half
in his sleeve; the members gasped; the
people craned their necks ; and five seconds
later, in the midst of the hush, the chamber
door swung open, and Michael Conry, bright-
eyed and flushed, strode dizzily to his seat.

''Aye!" he cried. ** That's me vote!
Yis! 'Tis the steam r-roller I like! Take
that to yourself, Hawkes! 'Tis a blow f'r
old Ireland ! 'Tis— 'tis—' ' Then while some
one led him babbling and staggering away,
many others, even in the midst of the up-
roar, saw that the vote was properly re-
corded.

For the next month Michael Conry lay
ill beyond the skill of man. The will that

dragged him from his bed to the Council
Chamber availed him nothing, and he tossed
in wildest delirium. Nora, watching by his
bedside, grew haggai'd and thin with sleep-
less anxiety. The soft bloom left her cheeks,
dispossessed by hollows of deepest woe ; her
voice lost all its happiness, and her gray
eyes dulled with anguish and bitter pain, for
as the days dragged monotonously on, deep
in her heart there sank the knowledge that
Michael — her Michael, her dear lord and
master — was going to die.

Coogan and Mrs. Monahan came daily.
The doctor did not count for comfort, for
despite Nora's clasped fingers and white, ap-
pealing face, his science could do no good.
At night she watched and kept her vigils
alone. Wheh the baby cried fretfully in the
still, dark hours, she walked with her in the
next room, singing her to sleep with choking
lullabies of Ireland. When the day came
again, though the child still slept, the drowsy
sun found her sitting fully clothed, eyes hag-
gard with the dumbness of their pathos, be-
side Michael's bed. Bravely and with the
whole devotion of her love, she sat watching
and ready to move at the slightest flutter of
his eyelid. Her worn cheelS grew to rival
his as he lay slipping away from her, and
the enduring little figure drooped lower and
lower as the strain began to tell. But not
even the vigorous Mrs. Monahan could shake
her resolution. ** I'll stay till I die," she
said to her protests, ** or till he dies. 'Tis
all the same. Me place is here."

As the hot June days slipped smoking by,
Michael grew worse more rapidly. Some-
times he raged in fits of blasphemous deli-
rium, and sometimes he babbled meaninglessly
of every one in his past, from his old father
in Kerry down to his wife and Coogan. Nora,
though she understood nothing of ward money
and protection, felt another of the few re-
maining chords of her heart being wrenched
and torn to pieces when, his emaciated hand
beating unceasingly upon the spread, he
moaned and muttered bits of Irish phrases
or spoke in a weird, far-oif voice of little
Michael, the baby, and herself. In one hour
he would be in his father's shanty deep in
talk with him and with his mother; in the
next he would fiercely contradict a statement
made by an imaginary Coogan in the rear
roomof ** Conry 's." As a rule, Nora's touch
and gentle ** Whisht now, Mike, dear," would
soothe him; but Coogan he could not suffer
near. For some occult reason, though he
did not recognize him, Coogan's presence
made him rage like a madman.

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THE MEMBER FROM THE NINTH.

Then at last there came a period when,
free from the chains of delirium or the un-
consciousness of stupor, he looked around
the room, and saw death waiting in its far
comer. He awoke to consciousness only to
realize that he was in a deal with one far
mightier than himself, and more inexorable
than Coogan in his insistence upon his share.
He was conscious of a slight surprise, as his
mind grew clear, that no horror of death
possessed him, and he even found the con-
templation of non-existence slightly interest-
ing. Later he began to think.

Nora's strained white face and the droop-
ing lines of her young figure as she moved
about the room inspired within him a strange
new tenderness. It was with an odd feeling
— a feeling almost as if he were planning
again for their after-life together — that he
gradually arranged his business affairs into
mental orderliness. At last he called her,
and as she came obediently and sat down
upon the plush-covered chair beside the bed,
he caught his breath, conscious of a sharp
stab of pain.

'* Nora, dear," he said, taking one of her
hands nervously, ** ye've been a good woman
to me, and it's sorry I am I've been no bet-
ther a man ; if I'd known — but now my time's
most up. 'Tis too late."

The tears that Nora had so long and so
courageously held back welled out, and the
dreadful finality in his voice and words broke
down her courage at last. She threw her-
self upon her knees beside the bed. ** Oh,
Mike! Mike, me darlint," she wailed in an-
guish, ** don't go ! Don't — I can't do widout
ye. Ye're all I have. All I have, Mike,
dear. Don't be lavin' me — " and she broke
off in a torrent of sobs.

Michael watched her. He was too weak
to comfort her, and the knowledge was bit-
ter. ** Don't, dear," he whispered after a
little. ** I'm not gone yet. Time an' a-plinty
to cry thin. Besides — there's something I
must tell ye, and — and it's bad enough I feel
already."

Nora straightened herself bravely. '* I
don't know what I'll io widout ye," she said
simply.

** It's that I want to talk about," said
Mike weakly. ** I didn't think I'd have to
tell ye. 'Twould have been all right, but
now — well, I'm in debt, Nora, and the house
and saloon'll have to go."

** They can all go." replied Nora, '* all of
thim — if you'll only stay. Wid you I don't
need thim. Widout you what would I do
with thim?"

** The house and saloon," replied the sick
man, pressing close upon his single thought.
** All you'll have will be the fifteen hundred
the Asphalt Company owes me. Now see.
Pay my funeral an' a good wake an' all the
bills if y' can out of little Mike's bank ac-
count. 'Twill be enough, I think. Thin,
after the property is sold out, get that fif-
teen hundred an' go home with the childer
to ye're father. 'Twill be a-plinty to keep
you over there as long as you live, if ye're
careful. God knows it's sorry I am to be
lavin' ye so short, but if I'd lived ye'd been
a rich man's wife. Ask Coogan — he'll tell
ye 'tis true. Somehow, I never thought of
me dyin'. I was makin' money, y' see, and
I thought I couldn't die, I guess. But prom-
ise me ye'Il get the asphalt money. They'll
pay ye ; they brought me here — thim an' me
own foolishness, so they'll pay ye. 'Twas
for — Do ye promise ? Fifteen hundred
they owe me, Nora acushla — for damages.
Promise me. God knows I'll die easier
knowin'."

And Nora, seeing through her tears noth-
ing but the dying eyes of the man who stood
for her all in life ; hearing nothing but his
ever-weakening voice; knowing nothing ex-
cept that she thought her heart was break-
ing, stretched out her arms and promised.

The wake and funeral had been befitting
the dead man's station. The priest had
spoken very comfortingly of his integrity
and virtues ; six pall-bearers from the coun-
cils, two lodges, and fully one-quarter of the
** Hill's" adult population attended the ob-
sequies. The hearse carried eight black
plumes, and there were thirty-five carriages
in the procession.

Yet as Nora sat a week later in the
room where he had died, the room which,
though no stick of furniture had been
moved, was still so subtly, so unalterably
changed, her sorrow, her loneliness, and the
fear of the world weighed down upon her
like an intangible, invisible dread, frighten-
ing and stifling her. She could not bring
herself to the realization of her loss. It
was not credible that Michael — her Michael
— upright and honest, universally loved and
honored, was gone — to never again return.
She could not believe that he might not enter
alone or with Coogan, any moment, through
the door at the end of the hall. But grad-
ually the acceptance of his death forced itself
upon her, and now, brooding, she let the con-
sciousness of her lack of power to bring him
back sink with all its hopelessness deep into

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her soul. There rose a certain exaltation
with it as she remembered what,he had been,
and to herself she made a vow. In life she
nad looked up to him and loved him ; in death
she would protect his name — a sacred thing
hallowed by that love and doubly hallowed by
its own spotlessness. Her eyes shone softly
with the glow of her resolve.

Coogan came — ^and Nora remembered her
husband's last words proudly. He sat down
upon the chair by the door and cleared his
throat.

** Ye've been kind to me, Coogan, and Til
see ye paid," she said greeting him.

** Paid ? '' replied Coogan, uncomprehend-
ingly.

** Ye're not after ye're money thin?"
asked Nora, bmiling wanly. ** Niver mind,
foryeMl getit."

* * Money ! Nora ! ' ' cried the boss, upset-
ting the chair and striding across the room.
** D'ye think I've been watching me money
this while ? D'ye think I've been comin'
here because of me money? "

Nora looked up at him. A look in bis
eyes frightened her, and his thin, spare fig-
ure seemed to lengthen as he bent forward.
Instinctively she put up one hand as if to
ward a coming blow.

** It's you I want," blazed Coogan. Then
with a sudden change: ** Ah, Nora, dear,
me heart is gone entirely. Ever since the
day Mike brought ye here I've loved ye.
Will ye not come ? It's a lone woman ye
are now, wid two children, and ye'll all be
wanting a home soon."

Nora rose unsteadily. To her tightly
strung nerves, worn by all she had suffered,
and breaking rudely upon the sanctity of her
reveries, the shock of Coogan's passion came
at first like some numbing blow, and made
her feel as though she were standing face
to face with an awful, revolting crime.
For a moment she stood robbed of speech.
Swift was her recovery.

** Dennis C/Oogan, shame be to ye," she
cried, with a white face and beating heart.
** Me husband not dead tin days, an' spakin'
of such! I thought ye were me friend. I
thought ye're heart was good to me. You
— lovin' ?--ah no, Coogan. Ye mean well
perhaps. I didn't mean to speak illy. But
I loved Mike whin he was alive, and 'tis Ood
that knows I can't stop lovin' him just be-
cause he's dead. I'll always love him, and
niver will I take another man."

Coogan dropped the hand he liad seized.
There was a chill in the words that checked
even his ardent nature. He did not know

this sort of love. There broke upon his
mind a glimmering — like the first few night
lights of a distant city. ** But he's dead,
Nora," he said, uncomprehendingly.

** Aye," said Nora, steadfastly, ** but he's
my man."

**The house and saloon will go," said
Coogan.

** I have some money comin'," replied
Nora.

Coogan looked at her sharply. He knew
about the money. ** Whisht ! Ye'll see the
time," he said hopefully.

A month went by. In that month all of
Michael's outstandmg accounts were paid in
full ; the saloon was sold under foreclosure
by the Hawkes Cement Works; all of Nora's
furniture had been bought by a second-hand
dealer for about one-tenth of what it had
cost, and little Michael's bank account was
balanced to zero. B3ven the house Nora no
longer regarded as her own ; it was Coogan's.
She might have held it, and certainly Coogan
would never have taken it; but the zeal of a
fanatic had seized her; Michael's name was
to be cleared. Not a dollar should be un-
paid. He had lived honestly ; he should rest
honestly.

Coogan called again, and Nora delivered
unto him the keys. ** 'Tis yours, Coogan,"
she said bravely, ** and now Mike's name is
clear."

**Take them back and stay here," said
the boss, flushing a dark red. ** D'ye think
me a man or a blood-sucker ? "

But Nora brooked no opposition, and in
the end Coogan stood in the deserted side of
the house, staring at the keys thrown down
before him. Through the wall came the
sound of stifled sobs, for the last parting
from her home had wrenched the sorrow be-
yond silent bearing, and she had fled with
both the children to the sympathetic Mrs.
Monahan. Coogan heard, and the lines in
his face settled into an interesting grimness
—the kind of grimness that means a man
has resolved to get a certain thing or die.

The flaggings were hard, and the baby was
heavy, and little Michael dragged at her arm
laggingly; Nora had not remembered that
the walk to town was so long. Yet some-
how she had not been able to leave the chil-
dren long enough to come alone. Since
Michael's death she could not bear to be
separated from them ; they were all she had
left of him. She found, too, that her widow's
veil" lent for the occasion by Mrs. Monahan's
deceased brother's wife - blew awkwardlv at

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THE MEMBER FROM THE NINTH.

the street corners. Everything was very
strange and confusing. She shrank timidly
from the business-like lack of sympathy of
the elevators ; and the huge, humming bee-
hive of a building which she entered made
her heart beat with a little fear.

The contract man emerged from his inner
sanctuary as the office boy announced her.
He had been expecting her, but he did not
say so. Nor did he offer his hand — an omis-
sion of which he had never been guilty in his
visits to Michael's home— and Nora sat down
in the chair to which he sleekly waved her
feeling vaguely hurt at the neglect. Little
Michael stood shyly at her knee ; the baby
crowed, and reached gladly for the contract
man's watch charm, and within the inner
office a man rose and crept to convenient
hearing distance.

** Misther Dale," said Nora, after waiting
for the first word, '* 1 — it's a nice day."

**A charming day, Mrs. Conry," acqui-
esced the contract man, blandly.

Nora took heart at his tone. ' * 1 — I came,
sir, about the money," she continued.

** Oh," said the contract man with a rising
injection, but with apparent mystification.

" The money you're owin' Mike," explained
Nora. '* The fifteen hundred."

** I'm afraid I don't understand," saM the
contract man, clearing his throat. **Did
he send you here ?"

"Before he died," replied Nora with a
little choke, ** he says you owed him, an'
fer me to get it. I'm goin' back to Ireland
wid it."

*' But we don't owe him anything now,"
said the contract man, slowly.

Nora's heart dropped. There was a mis-
take. Mike had never lied to her. But
there was something dreadful in the con-
tract man's smooth voice as he went on
talking.

** We couldn't pay it, you see, Mrs. Conry,"
he was saying. ** We've too many live peo-
ple to bother with now. Besides, we didn't
really need his vote."

'* His vote," cried Nora, sickening with a
sudden fear.

**Why, yes," said the contract man,
wearily, ** that's the fourth vote of his we've
bought. I don't see why you need money.
Forty-five hundred from one concern is good,
isn't it ? That's better money than most of
them make."

Nora rose, trembling like a leaf. '* Ye
bought me Mike's vote, ye say ? Ye bought
it ? Oh, Misther Dale, it isn't thrue, is
it ? Say it isn't ! Oh, say it isn't ! " The

rising wail oi a breaking heart spoke in
her cry.

The contract man was silent. His little
eyes looked into hers with a steady, selfish
cruelty. His sleek face shone with satis-
faction. Nora gasped. *' Thin that money
— that fifteen hundred dollars."

** Bribe money, madam. Sorry— but a
man must live, you know, if he wants to
collect bills like that. If you care for fur-
ther proof than my words, I think I can ac-
commodate you with the testimony of a wit-
ness," and the contract man, who had feasted
Qn the vision of this denmement for a month,
leaned back in his chair, and waved his hand
blandly toward the door of the inner ofiice.

Then while the room still whirled before
Nora's eyes the door swung outward, and
Coogan stood upon the threshold. His lean
face and deep-set eyes shone with a malig-
nant fire ; yet strangely enough, after one
swift glance at Nora, he turned the anger of
his gaze upon the astonished contract man.

*'Ye blackguard, Dale," he said slowly,
"besides robbin' a poor woman, ye'd lie her
man's character away, wud ye ? 'Twas
straight money, and you know it. Small
thanks to you that Mike Conry was as hon-
est a man as ever was ! Say again that ye
bribed him if ye dare ! "

The contract man gasped, and tried to
grasp things. There seemed to be some-
thing wrong with his carefully arranged
jinak. Coogan had been cast as the cat's
paw in the melodrama- not as the hero.
The subtle Ulysses who was to save the Ten-
sor Company $1,500 was to have played that
part. There was some mistake. Then, as
the enormity of the insult swept away all
other considerations, his gorge rose mightily,
and his self-control and craftiness slipped
away like running water. Nora shrank back
into the recess of the window as he rose to
his feet, for there was so cold, so Satanic a
look of concentrated hate in his eyes that
her heart grew faint. Coogan eyed him as
a cat eyes a mouse.

"In the first place," he said slowly, his
voice shaking with passion, "you had bet-
ter wash your own hands ; what did you come
here for this afternoon ? In the second place
— get out of this office and stay out ! In the
third, though it is absolutely none of your
business, I'm not in the least afraid of you,
and I repeat that I bribed Conry to vote our
way!"

" For all that ye wrote your manager that
Mike Conry was honest and that you'd have
to buy some one else ? Read that ! "

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PAUL KRUGER.

157

And the contract man stared stupidly at
the letter which Coogan thrust into his hands.
It was a queerly folded, legal-looking letter,
and began oddly with the words ** State of
Pennsylvania, County of Luza wanna, as:"
after which, in language more or less tech-
nical, it set forth a certain statute of Slst
March, 1860, and an averment that one
Arthur L. Dale had been guilty of offending
against said statute; that he had bribed
and unduly influenced one Michael Gonry,
councilman, and that the peace and dignity
of the Commonwealth had been thereby
offended.

** 1 have jiist been to the Disthrict Attor-
ney's office,*' said Coogan, softly. *'He
thinks that wid the help of the witnesses
prisent ye will get a year, at least. He
drew th'* indictment himself."

For a moment the two men looked each
other fairly in the face. Nora uncompre-
hendingiy stared from one to the other.
Then the contract man, reading in Coogan's
eyes the hopelessness of the struggle, half
surrendered. ** You'll go with me if 1 do,"
he said, weakly.

*' 1 will— gladly," said Coogan, ** wid the
hope, however, that it'll be solitary confine-
ment."

** I — I had forgotten that letter," the con-
tract man said, lamely, hauling down his
colors.

** I thought ye had," answered Coogan
grimly. ** And now, as soon as ye have
apologized to Mrs. Conry for insultin' her
man, and as soon as ye have written that
check, we'll be acceptin' of your kind invi-
tation to leave."

On the street he turned to Nora. ** The
lyin', smooth-face rogue! " he cried angrily.

And Nora, whose idol had tottered and in
the nick of time been thrust back on the
shelf in safety, merely said, with a shining
face, **0h, Coogan!"

A week later a steamer sailing for Queens-
town churned panting out of New York har-
bor. A tall, thin man stood on the dock
until it vanished in the network of shipping
on the river. His face was a little drawn,
and his lips pressed tightly together, as he
watched the yellow tops of the steamer's
stacks blur in the haze of low-hanging smoke.
Then he walked away.

Coogan was going back to the Ninth to
rule undisputed, to wax fat and influential,
and to gather much rich plunder, but— he
was going alone.

PAUL KRUOER.

SOME SCENES AND TKAITS.

By F. Edmund Garrett.

[BASANT, millionaire, rebel, au-
tocrat, lay-preacher, filibus-
ter, visionary, and statesman,
Paul Kruger is easily the
most interesting figure of a
president now living. Some
have gone back from the gen-
eration of McKinley and Lou-
bet to compare him with the
great dead, and have likened
Oom Paul to Old Abe. That is
very superficial. In so far as the issues of se-
cession and slavery have touched South Africa
—and they are both' there— Kruger figures
not on Lincoln's side, but on the other. He is
an arch " Secesher," and the farthest possible
from an Abolitionist. He has the piety and the
humor, though both grimmer and less sunny
than Lincoln's; he has the shrewdness, only
shading rather into cunning ; he has the earn-

estness of character, the sense of a call, the
unquailing fortitude, past all cavil ; but alas !
he has not the moral fastidiousness, the rig-
orously clean hands, the unbreathed-on name
of Abraham Lincoln. In Kruger, as in his
rival Cecil Rhodes, there are flaws that must
make a thoughtful contemporary hesitate to
canonize either among the really great. Pos-
terity may or may not stop for such flaws.
Her verdict will depend, perhaps, more on
the relative permanence of the two men's
life-work, which to contemporaries it is not
given to know. But whether or not we dub
Kruger great, we must allow him, no whit
less than his rival, many qualities of great-
ness. Huge self-confidence, contempt for
ease, unflagging devotion to an aim, tyran-
nous command over men, and that remorse-
less persistence that goes far to command
events— these are qualities of greatness, and

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PAUL KRUGER,

these are common to Rhodes and Kruger.
The Boer adds a half-religious, half -racial
fanaticism, which fits him to die for a dream
as the Khalifa and his Emirs died on their
sheep-skins. His patriotism is as genuine
as his piety ; but it is as narrow. A Conti-
nental writer described the armed Transvaal
as the Prussia of South Africa, and, indeed,
Kruger has many traits in common with Bis-
marck. He is much more like Bismarck than
like Lincoln. Bismarck made Prussia head
of a United Germany. It is not possible that
Kruger's experiment in blood and iron can
succeed in making the Transvaal head of a
united anti-English South Africa. But at
least it must be allowed that what we should
have scouted a few months ago as an idle
dream proves to have had more preparation
and consistency behind it than was thought
for. We have all had to reread and recon-
struct our Kruger in the light of that dis-
covery.

I have had the good fortune to enjoy more
than one talk with President Kruger on mat-
ters near his heart. The frame of the old
athlete was already bowed and unknit by
these later sedentary years, which told their
tale in sallow face and the flaccid droop un-
der the eyes. Charm of manner or dignity
there was none. The little gross peasant
ways which have been described, and over-
described, at first distracted attention. The
voice, down in some growling depths, was
grudging, almost morose, till a vein of feel-
ing was struck, when it became voluble and
explosive. But I never doubted that in this
hard, shrewd old gentleman in rusty broad-
cloth, fiercely gesticulating with his pipe, I
had before me one of the few really signifi-
cant and forceful personalities of our time,
and that I should look back to these reminis-
cences one day, if I lived, much as I look
back to conversations I was fortunate enough
to have with Gladstone or with Parnell. It
was a privilege.

The Kruger family in South Africa was
founded by a German from Berlin, who was
shipped out by the Dutch East India Com-
pany early in the eighteenth century to grow
cabbages for its ships at the Cape house of
call. Illiberal laws and a stubborn breed
enabled the Cape Dutch to digest their for-
eign immigrants very thoroughly. The lan-
guage of even the large batch of Huguenot
French, whose names and handsome looks are
stamped all over South Africa, was crushed
in one generation. Krugers have married
Dutchwomen; and the long Dutch fiddle-
face, the uncompromisingly prosaic Dutch

features, have had it all their own way in
the scion who has made the German name
famous.

Paul Kruger, who has been once in his life
a British official, was born a British subject.
That was in 1825— ten years after Waterloo
and nine after the final cession of the Cape
to England. His father was a frontier graz-
ier. On the frontiers, it was a question of
the usual frontier incidents between whites
and tribal savages, with cattle-stealing, free
shooting, and mutual charges of atrocities.
The frontier grazier, who had been allowed
to call a tract of country his farm, was used
to receiving no proper protection from gov-
ernment, and it was too much when finally
government hampered him in the reprisals
which were his way of protecting himself.
The result was that curious migration into
the regions beyond, where no writ ran, which
is known as the Great Trek. It cost the
British Government, first to last, the seces-
sion of over a thousand families ; and among
them, the Krugers.

And so it came to pass that about the
time that Queen Victoria came to the throne
as a girl of eighteen, Paul Kruger, a boy of
eleven, was tramping beside his father's
wagon across the uplands of what is now the
Free State, pushing ever slowly northward.
As the parties gradually spread into what
are now the Free State, Natal, and the Trans-
vaal, some settling here, some there, as a
tract of country might take their fancy, they
again and again had to fight for their lives.
Once some hundreds of men, women, and
children were surprised and massacred. It
may seem a wonder that this was not the
ultimate fate of all. What saved them was
hitting upon the laagerSy a word now familiar
to all the world ; and the battle of Vechtkop,
where this device won its first great trium}>h,
was a scene in which the Kruger family, in-
cluding the boy Paul, took part. It must
be one of the most memorable in his life.

In a square made by lashing some fifty
wagons end to end, as many farmers, with
their wives and families, awaited the attack
(they say) of 5,0(X. Matabele warriors. The
Boer wagon, in which the families lived and
carried all that they had, was massively
built, such as only a long span of oxen could
draw, and covered with a great tent, or tilt.
There was good shelter in the square against
assegais, which, though hurled in clouds,
could only fall in the middle, and the in-
terstices were well strengthened against a
charge of naked men by bushes of the thorny
mimosa. The men and boys manned the

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YOUXG KRUGER PUSHES TO THE FRONT.

159

wagons, and fired, not as soldiers fire, but as
hunters; the women, close behind, kept re-
loading for them. Again and again the en-
veloping mass of black warriors flung itself
on the laager only to be choked off by its
own dead. The Boer marksmanship had been
learned in a good, because a hard, school.
Ammunition was precious. Young Kruger,
for instance, was accustomed to herd his
father's sheep in a land of wild beasts, and
had always been expected to bring home
game in proportion to any powder he had
burned. After terrible loss, the Matabele
army drew off, and the farmers, who declare
that they lost in the laager but two men,
sang psalms of thanksgiving, as well they
might.

Paul Kruger was twelve years old at Vecht-
kop. At thirteen, he was present at a slaugh-
ter grim and great, which gave the name to
the Bloed River, where the emigrants wreaked
vengeance for treachery upon thousands of
Zulus. At fourteen, Paul, now considered
a man and properly in the fighting line, took
part in a punitive invasion of the Matabele,
which chased them headlong out of the Trans-
vaal to find new homes farther north. Such
experiences in his teens were sure to leave
their mark on the man. The Great Trek
was a school for heroes, but hardly for phi-
lanthropists.

There is no doubt that the dealings of the
Boers with native races whom they found in
their Land of Promise were but too faith-
fully modeled on the Old Testament prece-
dent of the chosen people's dealings with
Midianites or Gibeonites. The more fero-
cious passages of Exodus were ever on their
lips, and were applied with fidelity. Paul
l6*uger had part responsibility in the most
notorious of all these scenes— the terrible
affair of the extermination of the tribe of
Makapan. A Boer against whom the natives
had a long grudge, and by some accounts a
just one, fell at last into Makapan's hands;
his family were butchered, and he, horrible
to tell, was flayed alive. In retribution, a
command of Boers contrived to seal Maka-
pan and all his people up in some large
caves to which they fled. The Boers gradu-
ally built up almost every outlet, and for
three weeks kept watch at the few holes
that remained unstopped. Within, the men,
women, and children had no water ; and' as
one after another was driven out by thirst,
the watching Boers shot them down to a
man. Of the fate of the women and chil-
dren the story says only that they died after
lapping water. When at last the Boers

forced their way in, they were driven back
by the stench of the corpses of those whom
thirst had killed ; those who fell at the cave
mouth by Boer bullets numbered 900. Com-
mandant Paul Kruger showed distinguished
courage in rescuing under fire the body of a
wounded comrade.

In all the troubles of those times, Paul
Kruger is found pushing to the front. Hia
name crops up in the record, like a stormy
petrel, wherever the tale is of turbulent and
high-handed action, whether against natives,
missionaries, or fellow-emigrants. At six-
teen, he was already Field Cornet of Pot-
chefstroom, which shows that by the rough
standards of the place and time the lad was
already judged a man among men. Not
many years later he became a commandant.
By an irony of fate, the characters in which
history first shows us the future president
are those of a ** uitlander," a reformer,
and a raid-maker. In a sense, all the * * voor-
trekkers " began as " uitlanders," newcomers
from outside, for they had to supplaat and
dispossess the blacks. But Paul Kruger was
for some time a *' uitlander " in the Trans-
vaal in a closer meaning. His family was
not of the earliest batch, and those who
came in before and managed affairs through
a volksraad held at Lydenburg were not dis-
posed to share power or authority with later
arrivals.

The sequel was two, at one time practi-
cally three, republican establishments, each
with its own president and officers, and each
freely proclaiming the other * * rebel.' ' Pres-
ently the faction of Marthinus Pretorius,
whose right-hand officer was Commandant
Paul Kruger, now a man of thirty, attempted
a bold stroke. This was nothing short of
annexing the Free State The Free State
government declined the proposed ** union."
Thereupon Pretorius, with a strong com-
mand, made an armed raid across the Vaal,
and prepared to march on Bloemfontein.
President Boshoff called out his burghers,
and marched to repel the raiders. He en-
countered them at a stream called the Rhe-
noster ; and at this Rubicon, destined never
to be crossed, the two forces sat down on
opposite banks and for three hours thought
things over. Meanwhile one Schoeraan, com-
mandant of one of the districts in the Trans-
vaal impartially proclaimed "rebels" by
the arch-rebel Pretorius, tried to organize a
joint attack on Pretorius in the rear. The
game was up. From the ranks of the raiders
issued a stalwart, grave young man bearing
a white flag, and crossed the river to parley.

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PAUL KRUGER.

It was Paul Kruger. And after peace was
made, it was Kruger again who did much to
secure amnesty for such Free Staters as Pre-
torius had induced to join him— the Johannes-
burgers of his Jameson Raid, so to speak.
The sentences for ** treason," one of them
a capital sentence, were reduced at Mr.
Kruger's pleading to petty fines ; for in those
days he had a firm grip of the truth that
sedition is sometimes the duty of a good
citizen.

It would take too long to detail how, soon
after the Free State raid, the Transvaal
came to be given over for some years to civil
war between Paul Kruger and Schoeman,
with whom that affair left the Pretorius
party a score to settle. Kruger and Schoe-
mStn were both commandants and raised
forces of burghers, and marched and coun-
ter-marched and chased each other in and
out of the villages which served as semi-
capitals, in a very free and buccaneering
manner. Kruger was oftener the chaser
than the chased ; but not always. Once his
force was surrounded by a body calling itself
"The Army of the People," and Kruger,
escaping by the skin of his teeth, fled into
the Free State. Broadly we may say that
the Transvaal, from soon after Kruger's thir-
tieth year to about his fortieth, was an ad-
ministrative chaos, with revolts, arrests, res-
cues, faction rampant, and recurrent civil
war; that Kruger took almost from the first
a bold and commanding part; and that he
emerged at the end as commandant-general.

In this capacity, a few years later, he was
sent to put down a native revolt in the large
northern district of Zoutpansberg. But years
of disorder had sapped the civic sense in the
Transvaal burghers. They declined to an-
swer the call ; there was lawless action among
the whites who were in the disturbed district ;
and Commandant-General Kruger, refusing
to attack with an inadequate force, aban-
doned the prosperous little settlement of
Schoemansdal, with its district, to the na-
tives. The prestip^e of the Republic was
hard hit ; but the fact is, the period of un-
licensed turbulence was now yielding to one
of a curious apathy and national paralysis,
during which even the strong man Kruger
was rather under a cloud. Pretorius was
now supposed to be President of a united
Transvaal ; but he fell, over an arbitration in
which the Republic had the bad luck to lose.
The burghers decided to repudiate the award.
To do so, they had to repudiate the President
who had submitted the case. Kruger, then
not quite fifty, was passed over for the presi-

dency. The factions agreed that there was
something rotten in the state of Denmark,
and they must import some educated, clever
man from outside . They took (heaven knows
why!) a Dutch clergyman who was being
heresy-hunted by the Cape Synod; and so
began the presidency of the unlucky T. F.
Burgers, who soon found all his enlightened
schemes and dreams of a great modern re-
public checkmated by the opposition of a
party of which Paul Kruger— supplanting
Piet Joubert,* once Acting President, who
thereupon left public life for two years and
sulked on his farm— came more and more to
be the representative. Kruger was made
Vice-President; and no contrast could be
sharper or more typical than that which
he and his chief presented.

Burgers handled the pen, Kruger the gun.
Burgers was profuse and quixotic, Kruger
acquisitive and practical. Burgers was an
agnostic; Kruger was a "Dopper." Burgers
had imbibed culture and modernity at Utrecht
University ; Kruger could painfully write his
name. The republicanism of Burgers was
as ambitious, patriotic, and independent as
anybody's; at first it was as anti-English;
but it was a republicanism of railways, of
education, of national solvency, and of immi-
gration and development. Kruger 's concep-
tion of the state, then as ever, envisaged
one race only and one class only — his own.
Burgers was full of ardors and enthusiastic
impulse, but he craved for sympathy; he
lacked sta}nng power; he easily despaired.
Kruger, once aroused, knew an even deeper
ardor, a more flaming passion; but he had
also the callous nerves of the camp, the
power to wait and tire men out, and a will
that closed upon its object with a grip of
steel.

Burgers, with all his gifts, was not the
right man to rouse the demoralized Boers to
their duty. With a Kruger on the other side,
his failure was pitiably certain. So the draft
toward bankruptcy and helplessness went on
till the Transvaal became the by-word and
danger of South Africa. The loans gave out.
The President's private means were throvsn
into the state chest and spent. Salaries went
unpaid. Railway material rotted on the dis-
tant coast. The burghers would not pay their
taxes — many of them have never learnt to do so
since, but their ideal of a state without taxes
has been realized by having the uitlanders
to pay them for them. Sick of twenty-five

This !b tho fame Jonl)ort who orcanlzo<l and letl the Boer
army with piirli dlMinction in the pret*cnt wnr, and whoHO
dentn after a brief illneg« is annonnectl just aH this artieic
KOC8 to prew.— Editor.

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PAUL KRUGBR IN HIS EARUER DAYS. ,

From an old silver plate taken some time prior to IHtio. Tue portrait liaa an added interest froQi^tif <
the fact ttiat it is the only obuinable one that clearly ebows tbut the thumb is misaing from one of tl^y ',',
hands. Later portraits give a hint of this in the peculiar posture of one of the hands, lathed it i)'^
the left hand that seems to be maimed ; and this accords with the fact —Mr. Kmger lost his left tIttrtfM' -* ''
in a fight with a Hon. Bat in the above portrait, apparently^ it is the right thumb ihat Js n]isi>i^<> ' i^
This is explained by tlie fact^hat the old silver plates were positives, in dislioction from the A^tivQu .b '
from which prints are now made; and in them the left side comes out as the right, a« it do«f iii a >'..<
reflection from a mirror. . . - > s . ,-..

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162

PAUL KRUOER.

years' chronic war, they would not even fight ;
their failure in the field against the petty
chief Sikokuni, more humiliating even than
Kruger's Schoemansdal affair, led the more
sensitive Burgers (who was there in person)
to beg the Boers to shoot him rather than let
him survive the disgrace. Encouraged by the
Sikokuni fiasco,
the Zulu tribe,
now again ag-
gressive under
a military chief,
threatened to
overrun the
country, and did
overrun forty
square miles of
it, burning
every home-
stead. British
annexation
seemed to many
patriotic men
the only way to
avert both dis-
grace and ruin.
It was peti-
tioned for by
nearly half the
burghers, and
when it was pro-
claimed in 1877,
it was greeted
with public re-
joicings by the
townsmen and
gloomily acqui-
esced in by the
country.

In the light
of after events,
it seems strange
to think of Paul
Kruger as a
British annexa-
tionist. Yet it
is Paul Kruger,
more than anybody, that Burgers bitterly
blames for the collapse. Kruger was deter-
mined to oust Burgers from the presidency ;
and he embodied in himself every prejudice of
the ignorant and turbulent back-country
Boers against Burgers's progressive notions.
The educated Hollanders whom Burgers
had imported for the civil service were hor-
rified, on their part, at the idea of the state
falling into the control of Kruger. But
Kruger had with him the men away on the
veld. His party encouraged the starving

MRS. KRUGER, THE WIPE OP THE PRESIDENT OP THE TRANSVAAU

out of the Burgers government, by refusal to
pay taxes, which made the state insolvent;
and it even, according to Burgers's explicit
charges, intrigued with the English annex-
ation party until the 'government fell — ^and
the Republic with it. Thus ' * British interfer-
ence got a strong support from the Boers

themselves,"
wrote the
broken-hearted
Burgers, **and
of their chief
leader, P. Kru-
ger, who had
betrayed me,
after promising
me his and his
party's sup-
port."

It is told that
sonsof Kruger's
,were conspicu-
ous among those
who gave the
British commis-
sioner an effu-
sive public wel-
come. It is
certain that the
Kruger who was
sent to England
to protest a
month after the
annexation was
a half-hearted
figure, com-
pared to the
resolute patriot
of two later
missions, and
left an impres-
sion of gradual
acquiescence.
Poor Burgers,
who had spent
his all, accepted
a pension from
the British administration. Kruger, yielding
to a temptation which Joubert was proof
against, accepted office under the British ad-
ministration, and ultimately resigned because
he was refused an increase of salary. Had he
got the increase, would Mr. Kruger have been
drawing a modest competence to-day as a
Royal British official in an unrevolted Trans-
vaal, instead of $40,000 a year as President
of the South African Republic ? If so, the re-
fusal of Mr. Kruger's ** rise " was one of the
dearest economies ever practised. But no ;

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KRUQER'S CONTEST WITH JOUBERT

163

history looks deeper than that. Forces were at
work, blunders and mischances which need not
be gone over again here, to change the salky
acquiescence of the men on the veld into act-
ive discontent. Revolt and war were brewing ;
and revolt and war were bound to bring to the
front Paul Kruger . The Dopper party looked
to him, and not
in vain. He
threw himself
into the gather-
ing movement;
was again a
member of a
mission of pro-
test to England;
and when at
last the storm
burst, though
personal jeal-
ousies were
appeased by
naming a trium-
virate, which in-
cluded Joubert,
as the Provi-
sional Govern-
ment, Kruger's
will soon domi-
nated the oth-
ers. In the brief
and brilliant
campaign of
1881 Joubert
commanded, but
Kruger held the
reins of govern-
ment ; and when
the fruits of
success were
garnered, Kru-
ger naturally be-
came President,
and Joubert had
to satisfy him-
self with the of-
fice of Comman-
dant-General.

Mr. Kruger became President of the re-
stored Republic in 1883, and he is still firm
in the saddle. Once only did Joubert suc-
ceed in shaking him seriously. This was at
the election of 1893, and the means by which
Mr. Kruger met and crushed the danger are
more creditable to his strength of character
than to his scrupulousness. It was known
that the contest would be close. At the
same time elections for the Raad were in
progress ; and here, too, it was known that

the adherents of Joubert would get a Raad
majority. But Mr. Kruger did not forget
the advantage of being in possession, and so,
in the French phrase, ** making the elec-
tions. ' ' He had the polling officers and local
officials, and he had the existing Raad. Un-
der the looseness of Transvaal administrative

machinery, ir-
regularities and
objections are
discoverable
everywhere
when once of-
ficialdom choos-
es to become
vigilant, and
then the ulti-
mate decision of
these nice points
rests by law
with the Raad.
In other words,
if Mr. Kruger's
officials did
their part, Jou-
bert's candi-
dates would be
thrown on the
judicial mercy
of Mr. Kruger's
Raad ; and,
pending the set-
tlement, Jou-
bert's own elec-
tion would be
" scrutineered "
by the same safe
body.

The point
was everywhere
seized with a
zeal and har-
mony which tes-
tified to the pre-
siding will.
Where a Jou-
bert and a Kru-
ger candidate
ran each other close, the Krugerite local
official would see that the dead walked and
polled, rather than let (in Samuel Johnson's
phrase) *' the Whig dogs get the best of
it." Where the Joubert man's majority
was too heavy to be got over, some flimsy
objection could still be lodged by his oppo-
nent, the defeated Krugerite sitting mem-
ber; and then the latter continued to sit till
the Krugerite Raad should have dealt with
the objection. That is the law, ** and," said

PAUL KRUGER, PRESIDENT OP THE TRANSVAAL REPUBUC.
From a recent photof^'aph by Diiffus Brotliers, Johannesburg.

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164

PAUL KRUOER.

Mr. Kruger solemnly, ** before all things we
must respect the law." By this means the
chief Joubertites were excluded, or kept
waiting till the Raad had '' scrutineered " as
between Mr. Kruger himself and his rival for
the presidency. According to the Joubert
party, Joubert was really elected quite easily.
But the votes were examined and reexamined
with scrupulous care ; three or four announce-
ments were made ; and with each, poor Jou-
bert's vote dwindled. Mr. Kruger was at
last declared elected by a respectable ma-
jority. Joubert's party in the country was
furious, and proposed to take up arms. Al-
ready once in Transvaal history had the same
charge of cheating at a presidential election
led to civil war. But Joubert lost heart.
In a conversation which I had with the old
Commandant-General, two years later, he
used these words : ** It was a wrong, an un-
righteousness. But I would not commit an-
other wrong and unrighteousness on my part
by shedding blood."

Would Mr. Kruger, if the positions had
been reversed, have stopped for that scru-
ple ? To judge by his past, certainly not.
It was idle for Joubert to stand up to him,
and he has never done so seriously since.
Mr. Kruger forthwith strengthened his po-
sition by a favorite expedient which is flat
against the constitution, and has more than
once embroiled him with the generally sub-
missive Raad — that of creating new offices
in the executive and appointing henchmen
thereto. In this case, the new office was
that of minute-keeper to the Council, with
a handsome salary and a vote which just
secured an anti-Joubert majority in that au-
gust body. The man for the new office was
the local magistrate who had jockeyed out
of his election the leader of the Joubert
party in the Raad. In illustration of Mr.
Kruger's working of the class system, it may
be added that it was this same henchman's
son who was recently thrust upon the bench
in the teeth of a general protest from the
bar, and who presided in what is known as
the Edgar case.

The events of Mr. Kruger's continuous
terms of presidency from 1883 till now are
well enough known. The attempts to play
off Germany against England, to get a sea-
port, to block British expansion northward,
to shut off the Cape from Transvaal trade—
these have been failures. But there have
been notable successes : the securing of the
watered-down Convention of 1884, the ex-
pansion of the Republic frontiers, in defiance
of that Convention, by the agency of filibus-

ters, and Mr. Kruger's admirable handling
of the crisis of 1895-96, when once the cai^ds
were placed in his hands by Jameson's ab-
surd attempt to apply the filibustering method
on the other side. As for the subsequent
use or abuse of the vantage thus gained, and
the plans for absorbing the Free State and
for setting up as an '' independent sovereign
state" the African Power — these are now
on their trial, and will not be discussed here.
I confine myself to impressing Mr. Kruger's
personal responsibility for two much-criti-
cised features of the period : its corruption,
and its anti-uitlander policy.

Of the concession system, in which centers
half the corruption of the Transvaal, Mr.
Kruger has been the main pillar. He is him-
self, as we have seen, practically the execu-
tive, which chooses the 1 ucky cancessionnaires.
To secure the Raad without securing him is,
fur a cancessionnaire^ useless ; in the opposite
case he has often used his executive position
to commit and coerce the Raad. Some of
his strongest speeches have been devoted to
screening and prolonging the worst of the
concessions — those in which the concesdon-
naires rob the revenue as much as they rob
the miner or consumer. His own son-in-law,
and for some time secretary, was allowed to
shareMn these good things, and apparently
sell the decisions which Mr. Kruger controls ;
and once when the Raad objected to this young
man's acquisition, by use of a departmental
secret, of a Johannesburg site where some
technical flaw had made the tenure doubtful,
the President saw to it that the government
should require that site for a coolie location,
and expropriated his son-in-law at $125,000
compensation. When it came out about cer-
tain presents accepted by legislators from
concessionnaireSy it was the President who
spoke in defense of such spoiling of the
Egjrptians, and said he ** saw no harm " in
it ; so that if men misconstrue the large for-
tune that the present President is known to
have acquired himself, it is only by assuming
the private example from the public precept.
The secret service funds are another shady
corner of the Transvaal ; and it is a son of
the President's— and an ill-reputed son — who
is trusted with disbursing large sums for which
**the receipts" (he explains) **are always
torn up," and who appears in one of the late
blue-books as suborning conspiracy evidence
in the canteens of Pretoria which should
implicate the British officials, ** as that will
strengthen my father's hand " (at the Con-
ference).

But enough on this subject. It is a wart

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KRUGER'S ATTITUDE TOWARD THE '' UITLANDERS:'

165

in the portrait; and a disconcerting one to
the painter, for it throws askew an expres-
sion which would otherwise, on the whole,
be grand and rugged. In this Eruger is a
Verulam, rather than a Cromwell.

A great President might have made a great
republic by fusing the older with the newer
immigrants. A President who failed to rise
to this larger conception might yet long have
kept the busy newcomers apathetic about
politics by giving them an administration
that would l^ good for business. Mr. Kru-
ger's government has adopted neither pol-
icy. It IS told of Paul Kruger in the early
days that when oxen were scarce on the
Reestenburg farm he used to harness natives
to his plow. Whether fact or legend, that
gives us in a picture his policy toward white
** uitlanders." Kruger succeeded for some
years in harnessing the Englishman (the
American, too) to the plow of the Boer.
The Englishman in the Hepublic^ like the
Kafir, was an evil, but one which could be
turned to account. You must stand over the
Kafir with a hide-whip ; and over Johannes-
burg you stand with a fort mounting Krupp
quick-firers. The Boer wanted revenue, state
aid (whichj in one shape or another, one in
every three burghers has received), salaries,
and pickings for favored clans, and arms of
the latest pattern. The problem was, how
to give the "uitlander" free play enough
to get all these desirable things out of his
exertions, while yet keeping all governing
power in Boer hands. Paul Kruger's key to
this problem was simple. It was the Boer
rifle. Mr. Kruger has been the strongest and
most impassioned advocate of every one of
the reactionary laws by which the Volksraad
hedged in the franchise, till the door once
open to every one-year's resident — ** we
make no difference so far as burgher rights
are concerned," as Mr. Kruger assured the
British commissioners at the after-Majuba
peace-making — was at last locked against
any self-respecting ** uitlander," no matter
how long he had lived and worked in the
land, and even against the sons there born
to him.

Mr. Kruger has a Biamarckian gift for
coining blunt and picturesque phrases. He
expresses himself naturally in homely figures
taken froftr animal life and the farm, f here
are scores^of tihese speeches which etch with
vividness his attitude toward the " uitlander "
claim. Select persons who were ** trusty "
— that is, known to his Pretorian guard and
guaranteed to vote in a certain way — he has
often spoken of admitting. But the com-

munity as a whole — never! In one of the
best known debates on the question, he com-
pared the rising tide of immigrants to dirty
water held back by a dam from mixing with
the clean — a bold metaphor for Transvaal
burghers. If the turbid flood rose higher,
why he would build the wall higher. In the
same speech he was driving the state coach,
and the ** uitlanders" clamored to be taken
up. *' There is no fear of us upsetting the
coach," he represented them as pleading,
**for we should then be overturning our-
selves and our possessions as well as you."
" Yes," Kruger makes himself reply, ** but
you might snatch the reins from me and
drive away. I don't want to go." ** Their
rights!" he sneered, on the publication of
a reform manifesto. " Yes, they'll get them
— over my dead body ! " And to a deputa-
tion from Johannesburg: ** Go back, and tell
your people, never, never ! — and now let the
storm burst." And to another, when the
word "protest" or *' insist" was used:
* ' Protest ! insist ! What's the use of that ?
I have the guns." ** Wait till the tortoise
puts out its head," he told some burghers
who were alarmed by talk of a revolt brew-
ing. *' We'll soon cut it off then." When an
**uitlander " crowd hooted him, he retorted
with the humorous comparison to a tame ba-
boon which bit him because it burnt its tail in
the fire. When they cheered him, his com-
ment was ** Ugh ! lickspittles ! " When some
of them called to thank him for lenience, after
the 1896 fiasco, he playfully observed that
''he had to beat his little dogs when they
were naughty, and some went away and
snarled, and some came and licked his hand,
but he hoped they would not misbehave
again. " * * Friends, ' ' he began at a meeting
of burghers — then, perceiving there were
** uitlanders " present, ** but you are not all
friends here ; some are thieves and murderers.
Well, friends, thieves and murderers "—and
so the speech proceeded. In his anxiety to
keep up among his burghers the conviction
that England and the English were always
the enemy, he actually introduced in a public
speech an apocryphal story about Englishmen
being somehow at the bottom of the massacre
of a party of Boers by the Zulu chief Dingaan,
a treachery which is one of the best-known
pages in the history of the Great Trek. No
writer has ever discovered the slightest evi-
dence for connecting any English person with
the fiendish act; the only English settlers
who were within reach actually lost lives in an
attempt to avenge it. The President's ac-
ceptance and public use of the calumny is an

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PRBBIDENT KRUGER AT THE PRESENT DAY.

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KRUGER'S IDEAL OF A TRANSVAAL STATE.

167

extreme example of the calculated pressing of
race hatred into the service of nationalism.
Yet from Mr. Krager's lifelong point of
view, all this is consistent and intelligible.
What would be inconsistent andunintelligible,
and a breach of solemn pledges to his people,
would be any consent on his part to swamp
that people by a population of other races,
as the diplomacy of the Transvaal, preceding
its ultimatum, pretended to do.* That was
pretense only. The reality is to be read in
all Mr. Kruger's past acts, and in his words
at the Bloemfontein Conference, when Sir
Alfred Milner put forward proposals involv-
ing, not the immediate, not the certain, but
the probable ultimate loss of a monopoly of
power by the Dutch-speaking graziers: ** It
would be worse than annexation." *' We
might as well throw up the Republic." In-
dependence shared with the other classes and
other white races would be ** independence
lost." So Mr. Kruger said; and so he has
ever genuinely felt. To speak to him of the
young Republic being made great and popu-
lous by wave on wave of new blood from
Europe, like the United States, is like prom-
ising him a future life merged in Nirvana.
When he thinks of his fatherland, the inspir-
ing thought no more embraces the English-
speakers who have followed the Boers thither
than the Kafirs who were there before them.
^ It does not even embrace the South African
Dutch generally, as he has bluntly shown his
Cape kinsmen by his policy toward their rail-
ways, their products, and their young men,
ousted by more pliant clerks from Holland.
Nay, even among the Transvaal Boers them-
selves, the circle is narrowed when it comes
to be a question of the sovereign will of the
people and of deciding who the people really
are, as the election affairs of 1893 showed.
Boers who are not ** faithful to the country "
— to Dopperdom, to the Kruger clan and
policy — do not count. In short, the ** land
and folk " for which Paul Kruger has lived
and for which he would die, means really a
few thousands of families of Franco-Dutch

* In a meamfi to the American people C*^ New York Jonrnal/*
December 84th), Mr. Kmger made the astoanding claim that
the Franchise Law lately passed *' would immediately give
taperiority in nnmbers to the new popalation/*

extraction, speaking a Dutch patois, all either
cattle-keepers or officials, or both, and largely
interconnected by ties of marriage, of reli-
gious sectarianism, and of political patron-
age. The groove of such a patriotism may
seem strangely narrow — it is intense in pro-
portion.

Paul Kruger is a visionary : what is his vis-
ion ? It is of a sort of oligarchic theocracy,
with Paul Kruger as its Melchizedek, priest
and king in one. He sees the faithful sit-
ting each under his own gum-tree, on his
own stoep, and as far as his eye ranges that
is his farm, and his cattle are on a score of
hills. The young men are stalwart, great
hunters before the Lord, and the young
women are grossly built and fruitful. And
to each farm there is a made road and a dam,
and the stranger in the land pays for the
same. The stranger keeps to himself in the
city, and is more or less godless, for he is
not of the chosen in the Promised Land.
But he gives no trouble, for he is *' well dis-
posed," and looks to the Raad for his laws
in due season. The burgher has his Kafirs,
who do his work, but they are not cruelly
used, because they obey. The sons of the
soil are not too much educated, because that
spoils an Afrikander; but enough so to be
able to hold all offices of state, that these
maybe purged of the Hollander and the Ger-
man, no less than the accursed English or
*' English-hearted Afrikander." And the
nations of the earth come vying the one with
the other for favors, Germany and France
and England, all on the one footing.

And above all sits Paul Kruger, father of
his people, dwelling in the house that the
eancessionnaire Nellmapins gave him, wealthy,
but thrifty, living as simply as he used to live
on the farm, save that sheep's head and
trotters comes round somewhat of tener. And
the judges come to him to know how they
shall judge, and the Raad members to know
what laws they shall make ; and on Sundays
all come to the little chapel near to hear him
expound the Word of God and the truth as
set forth by the Separatist Reformed Breth-
ren. And there is peace in the earth. And
it is flat, and the sun goes round it.

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that unsavory /orrign quarter of San Franci»eo known too»ely as ' Spanish Tiften.'

A TUNE IN COURT.

By Marion Hill.

A STORY OF THE ITALIAN QUARTER IX SAN FRANCISCO.

NASMUCH as little Tinto Tre-
vino, in his daily social and
commercial dealings with the
San Francisco public, was
hailed indifferently as a
"dago," "greaser," "Eytal-
ian," or ** Portugee" kid, it is evident to
any intelligence that the child was a for-
eigner. It is not so evident, however, why
the grubby and solemn-eyed infant should
have been considered of enough importance
to engage the attention of the municipal gov-
ernment; but he was. Tinto, five-year-old,
reticent, hungry Tinto, was arrested for
being a public nuisance.

This to the Trevinos was more than a fam-
ily grief; it was also a financial horror, for
Tinto contributed appreciably to an income
already miserably insufficient for a family
that was outrageous as to numbers. In ad-
dition to Tinto and Tinto's father, Luis, and
Tinto's mother, Tessa, there were brothers
and sisters as follows : Stefano, Senta, Cata-
lina, Rafael, Tonio, Anita, Marta, Jos6, Do-
retta, and Maria— all undersized, underfed,
greasy, scowling, garlicky, and clannish.

Tessa once, when called upon to reconcile
her youth with her indisputable motherhood
of the brood, explained that she had had
**T'ree-a to one time, two-a to one time,
and one-a, oh, ever so many time."

This sentence was given with the villain-
ous scowl of suffering which English brought
to every Trevino countenance. They were so
ignorant of the language that they dreaded
it like a scourge; the scowl, though purely
a linguistic manoeuver, prejudiced observers
against the Trevino character.

Besides the English language (and luck),
another foe to the Trevino peace of mind
was an ill-disposed countryman of theirs
whose last name was Zanardi. His first
names are too holy to write,, being those of
the Divine Son and the blessed Mother ; but
Zanardi had them emblazoned in full in red
letters on his yellow vegetable cart, and
made the offense greater by his own daily
life, which was of a nature calculated to
bring reproach even upon the name of the
Prince of Evil.

Zanardi, who had caused the arrest of baby
Tinto, had harassed the Trevinos ever since

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A TUNE IN COURT.

169

that frightened bunch first set emigrant foot
upon Californian soil, led by some ill fate to
rent a shanty next to his in that unsavory
foreign quarter of San Fi'ancisco known
loosely as *' Spanish Town." His only rea-
son for persecution lay in the fact that he
was a born bully, and the cowering inoffen-

punishing the unoifender. A garden-hose
can be turned upon a weak and thirsty plant
so as to wash it into the dirt. For instance,
when the Trevinos had gathered together
a few sticks of furniture, Zanardi set the
tax-collector upon them, and the ignorant
wretches assented to so much English that

and the officer shot the dog be/ore T1nto'$ eifes.**

siveness of the Trevinos was an irresistible
temptation to him ; then, too, they were try-
ing to buy their shanty, and such thrif tiness
offended Zanardi's sense of what was proper
in a Trevino.

He was really clever in his enmity, and
kept safely out of the reach of the law by
making the law itself perform his dirty work
for him. The law has peculiar facilities for

they did not understand that they were as-
sessed five times too much, and were fined
for delinquency besides.

Then two little Trevinos, the two-a-to-one-
timers, broke out in pimples due to lack of
nutrition, and Zanardi promptly herded the
whole flock of Trevinos to the new City Hall,
and had the Board of Health vaccinate them,
resulting from which their arms swelled out

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170

A TUNE IN COURT.

and hurt them and kept them helpless for
weeks, thus stopping the final payments upon
the cottage.

Luckless Rafael's arm communicated pim-
ples to the rest of his body, so Zanardi once
more strenuously raised the cry of small-
pox, in consequence of which the mortgaged
Trevino shanty was quarantined, and then
fumigated to the total destruction of all be-
longings that had escaped being condemned
and burned.

Next, when Zanardi thought that Luis had
become enough of an American citizen to
vote, he had him vote industriously three or
four times at the one election, and upon his
information there followed an elegant s<§ance
about illegal registration, and Luis was rep-
rimanded and imprisoned and fined and kept
in so much hot water that a whole cargo of
bananas went bad on his hands, not being
sold in time. To ripen those bananas, Tessa
and brood had nightly taken the bunches to
bed with them, as is the custom of fruit ped-
dlers ; and when Tessa was worried into brain
fever by Luis's difficulties with the ballot,
Zanardi confided to the public the trick of
trade in fruit-ripening, had Trevino's stock
condemned as infected, and thereby killed
the Trevino banana industry forever.

Then th^ School Board was induced to in-
vestigate why the Trevino children were not
kept at school, with the result that they
were taken from lucrative trades and put
into infant classes, where they twined their
long legs around desks too small for them,
sat all day making queer marks upon slates,
scowled darkly at an uncomprehended, un-
comprehending teacher, and never by any
chance learned anything. When Stefano
took a day off to nurse his wrath, and sought
the water-front to do it privately, not to
worry his parents with his own cares, the
truant officer was sent after him ; and there
followed another dismal seance in still an-
other department of the City Hall.

Tinto was too young to suffer at the hands
of any School Board, so Zanardi exercised
special ingenuity and hurt him in a child's
most vulnerable feelings— through a pet ani-
mal. The very rich and the very poor have
one blessed privilege in common — both can
afford to keep a dog: those in merely com-
f fortable circumstances cannot stand the ex-
• pense. Tmto had a puppy, a big, rollicking
slob, so good-tempered that he got fat on
a diet visibly consisting only of sunshine and
the affectionate mouthings he gave the chil-
dren. The puppy made a friendly run at
Zanardi one day, catching playfully at his

moving boot, and the Italian (after some
personal treatment in his own room) came
out lacerated around the ankle, showed the
'* wounds " to the police, and the officer shot
the dog before Tinto's eyes. The moan of
the pup and the shriek of the child made
music acceptable to J. M. Zanardi.

So much cannot be said of the music wh/ch
came from Tinto's violin. That music was
a source of annoyance to the enemy, for
from it came many nickels to the small
player. Could the law hold out no remedy ?
It could. Tinto could be arrested for dis-
turbing the peace, and being a nuisance —
which brings us back to where we started.

When, in answer to the charge, they all
filed into a court-room of the New City Hall
on that foggy December morning, the Tre-
vinos presented anything but an engaging
appearance. They all came — Luis and Tessa,
Senta, Catalina, Anita, Marta, Doretta, Ma-
ria, Jos6. Stefano, Rafael, Tonio, and, of
course, Tinto — and they came shivering and
scowling, the skirted members darkly muffled
in greasy head-shawls, whence their eyes
gleamed like those of cats; the trousered
portion with dirty hands deep in frayed
pockets, and still greasier collars pulled high
up around swarthy necks ; and they looked
like an assassins' chorus in a Tivoli opera.
Zanardi, on the contrary, sleek as a panther,
was the embodiment of Italian grace. His
face was as open as day, and when he smiled
it was like sunshine, and his teeth gleamed
like pearls.

It is no wonder that the desperate Tre-
vinos had not enough interest in life even to
wash. Ruin is ruin, whether the money in-
volved be reckoned in millions of dollars or
in a handful of dimes. In losing their shanty
and banana trade, the Trevinos were more
destitute than the word ** bankruptcy " has
any power to suggest : they might as well all
cut their throats and leave the rest to the cor-
oner, nt is beyond the power of onlookers
to estimate the horror of tragedy hourly
going on in our imported population. Out
of the droves of ignorantly hopeful people
who come herding over to us, their souls
glowing not only with impossible fancies of
wealth and power to come, but with equally
preposterous expectation of present welcome,
only a rare few gain independence, while the
rest slave and suffer, sicken, die, and rot to
form an awful human fertilizer for the land
they came to share. The animal hunger and
desperation shining from their eyes appeal
to us merely as an unpleasant, but inalien-
able, attribute of the *' lower classes," not

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A TUNE IN COURT.

171

at all as the signs of the death struggle
of a lonely brother man j Loneliness fills as
many graves as whisky. The loneliness of
Italians in California is pitiful: they come
with notions of placer mining in their back
yards and cultivating grapes in their front
yards, with the presidency always hopefully
within reach. In San Francisco, the situ-
ation is worse on account of the climate.
Few people understand how emphatically San
Francisco is not California. The confirmed
San Franciscan knows less about the Golden
State than any Pueblo Indian baby. San

inable tree is the eucalyptus. Its dark,
sickle-shaped leaves saw against each other
with the rasping of knives. Moreover, they
have the power of condensing mist into rain.
On a foggy day every eucalyptus drips an
incessant downpour. The tree outside the
court-room window was behaving with more
than usual nastiness, contorting itself, wring-
ing its arms, clashing its noisy leaves, and
weeping with vulgar abandon, throwing the
mist from it in a steady shower of cold tears.
Not the Trevinos alone suffered from its
depressing influence : all the court clientele,

• The TrrvimtM prrnentrd anything but an ntgaglng appearance

they looked like an namMint' ehnrun in a Tiroli opera.**

Francisco, within an hour's journey of a tor-
rid belt, is never hot; San Francisco, within
sight of snow-clad peaks, is seldom frigid ;
San Francisco is cool, breezy, and foggy.
To an Eskimo it is Hades; to an Italian it
is perpetual winter.

The Trevinos, as they shivered in court on
that gray December morning, bore in their
gloomy eyes a history of pain — grief for
their lost South, suffering for their present
predicament, and fear for the hungry, dis-
graced, and homeless to-morrow. Small won-
der that the history expressed itself in scowls
and slinking ferocity. The Trevinos hated
everything they saw. They especially abom-
inated a eucalyptus tree which grew outside
the City Hall and clashed its cruel leaves
against the court-room window. An abom-

Christmas not a fortnight off, was in an espe-
cially holiday humor— this with adults means,
of course, discontent, asneeringremembrance
of (and sorrowing for) childish dead joys,
contempt for the empty present, and disgust
for the coming ordeal of taking and giving
gifts. God pity the wretches who come be-
fore a judge when he is in a holiday humor.
Next to the advent of Christmas, what
most soured his Honor was the presence in
the court-room of a large number of medical
students : young men of prevailing pallor of
complexion, most of them gone wildly to
beard, and all smelling of antiseptic soap,
which, though cleanly enough in itself, has
unpleasant suggestions in the background.
These young men had just come from an ex-
amination of some disease corpuscles, beauti-

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172

A TUNE IN COURT,

fully mounted on glass slides and kindly on
microscopic view in the rooms of the Board
of Health, and they had obtained permission
to use the court-room as a means of study-
ing how the exhalations of crime vitiate the
atmosphere, or something of the sort. At
any rate, there they were, and their obtru-

much-a hate they have of me ; but all those
things is nothings to me, so long as they
leave to me my quiet to sleep so that I get
strong to work next day. But no, no ! Me
and my wife and all in my house have our
heads distracted with fiddle, fiddle, all-a time
fiddle, until we no know nothings no more.

the court-room wcuJUled with muatc o/»uch awful tendemeM and atrtngth that it setmed absurd to connect it with mt amatt a

performer.'*

sion was another prejudicial factor in the
Trevino case.

Indeed, as Zanardi cited his wrongs, no
sane judge could do anything but believe him
to be an injured party.

*'All-a time, ever since Trevinos they
come next-a door, they have injure my prop-
erty, and be evil-minded to me, and set on
their dog to me," wailed J. M., his hand-
some eyes flashing eloquently. ** Prom how
they look darkly on me, you can see how

My poor wife, my poor Nella, she much-a too
sick to come to-day "

** He lie!" called Tessa, desperately.
" Nella, she home iron out a shu't waist.
I see her."

** Silence!" thundered his Honor, not
more to Tessa than to the medicos, who had
enjoyed immensely the feminine outburst.

*' No lie," softly denied the long-suffering
Zanardi, in patient dignity. ** Every day
Nella grow weak' and weak*. Fiddle next

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A TUNE IN COURT.

173

door all day and all night. Never to sleep
makes a very nervous woman, and Nella she
so much unsettle she can no longer take in
wash, and can only go around hold on to her
head, and moan— oh, how she moan for rest !
Me myself find it a big burden to have that
sound of fiddle all-a time within my head.
Many peoples can tell how much that small
Tinto can fiddle evfen in one day and a night."

Which *' many peoples " immediately pro-
ceeded to do. There was no lack of wit-
nesses to prove how undesirable were the
Trevinos as neighbors ; how uncleanly, given
to accumulating
loathsome dis-
eases; how unpa-
triotic and unedu-
cational, but
especially incon-
siderate in the
persistency with
which they incited
Tinto to untimely
practice of noi-
some tunes upon a
discordant fiddle.
They prayed not
only for abate-
ment, but for ab-
solute prohibition
of the baneful
scraping.

** The wonder
is, why Luis has
this hate of me,
who but wish him
well," mourned
Zanardi, ** who
have been his
friend from the
first, but it is a

true proverb that who smears himself with
honey will be pestered by the flies. I can
stand no more, and I pray that Luis will be
made not to set Tinto to scrape that fiddle
when most Luis thinks I am sick and in need
of sleep."

** Have you anything to say ? " demanded
the judge of Luis.

Knowing well what he had to say, and say-
ing it, Luis did for himself. He expressed
a wish that some Jew might spit on the grave
of Zanardi's grandmother, and promised that
he, Luis, would ere long smash in Zanardi's
face. There is an excuse for him. Igno-
rant as he was of English, he yet divined in-
tuitively that the whole case, against him
from the first, was settled irrevocably in the
mind of the judge, and would come shortly

* The Judge leaned back and aeemed
to dieregardit. . . .

to ^ conviction and costs. It was equiva-
lent to a death sentence : and a dying man
does not quibble with words. What Luis
said he meant. His whole family meant it,
too, for, with the same intuition, they divined
the situation as well as he, and every Trevino
face was one malignant scowl.

No, not every face. Tinto, bored long
ago with proceedings which seemed to have
nothing to do with him in spite of the fre-
quent occurrence of his name, was examin-
ing with placid interest a glass paper-weight
upon the judge's desk. The better \o do it,

he had wandered
into the center of
the room, where
he stood in un-
conscious promi-
nence, hugging
his violin under
his arm as a girl
might hug a doll.
This unvexed
vision gave the
judge an idea.
** Here, you Tin-
to, play some-
thing! Show us
what sort of a
nuisance you are.
Understand? Fid-
dle ! Scrape !
Give us a tune.
Sabe?''

' Tinto turned
immense eyes
from the judge to
his father, much
as he would ap-
peal from an idiot
to an interpreter,
and Luis said something in Italian.

The child, looking more like a wee mahog-
any god than anything human, turned his
assenting orbs again upon the judge, and
commenced to tune his violin, doing it with
what looked like unembarrassed leisure, but
was in reality infinite love and patience.

The embryo doctors leaned back with the
complacency of those who have front seats
at the minstrels. The judge had an angry
expectation of being assailed with the strains
of a popular song, with a chorus demanding
that all who heard should '* Bone dat tur-
key, brudders, bone dat turkey! "

Tinto let'his slow gaze wander around the
court-room for inspiration. He rejected the
sad picture of his kinspeople, the smiling
doctors, a curious throng of outsiders at

lean to linten to the music than utterly
Dreaming, dreaming!"

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174

A TUNE IN COURT,

the doors, the unfriendly court, the lonely
tree that wept against the window-pane and
writhed against a background of sullen sky,
and fixing his yearning eyes finally upon the
crystal bauble which had chained his fancy —
the beautiful, ever-unattainable iridescence
of that fairy-like plaything — he sighed deeply,
and then took route for fairyland itself upon
the bridge-like, golden, vibrating notes of
Schumann's '' Traumerei," the dream song
of dream songs.

Perhaps he looked further than the bit of
glass, and saw in his pathetic day-dream
those other glittering shams for which, in
the coming years, he would barter the music
of his man's soul — the woman's smile, the
crown of fame, the shine of gold, the hearts
of his friends. Whatever it was, it spoke
with a moving sweetness, and the court-
room was filled with music of such awful ten-
derness and strength that it seemed absurd
to connect it with so small a performer, who
guided a tiny bow with the grimy fingers of
a baby.

Like the flight of a bird that reaches high
places ; like the unexpectedness of an earth-
quake shock which reveals God to us ; like
the fragrance of a flower that steals unbid-

den upon our senses; like a baby's velvet
touch which thrills our beings with divine
tenderness, the music of the Dream Song
floated through the court-room and held the
listeners spellbound. Sweet as it was, yet
hand in hand it went with pain; for what
is there for us but sorrow when we dream
dreams of what might be and know we must
wsJcen to the things which are ?

After a first shiver, as from an icy clutch
at his heart, the judge leaned back and
seemed less to listen to the music than ut-
terly to disregard it. But he too had crossed
on that golden bridge, not to the future
where Tinto went, but back into a past that
he had fancied was forgotten. Dreaming,
dreaming! Ah, dear God, had not all the
ambitions of his youth been dreams! And
she— his wife, not the stately woman who
now bore his name and showed off his wealth,
but that little dead girl who used to bring
her violin and play to him when the twilight
came and the firelight danced over the bare
room that was home to them — had not she
in her hopes and prophecies for him been but
dreaming, too ? This very tune was what
she mostly played, and the time came when
she played it with her dreams reaching out

^Lj C^^f %

SJJ

K»^

Rp M

^^^

^ft MU^^^H^ ^^^^^B < ]^^^ *

''Aifoung doctor, eapecieMy during the growth ofhitfirwi beards i» invariably a mutic lover."

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A TUNE IN COURT,

176

I to fold themselves about a little child that
was to be theirs, the little boy who stayed
but long enough to deliver God's message
that wife and child were both to go back to
Him. She was in her grave, and this tune,
that surely was hers and hers alone, was
going on, beautifully insistent, to waken all
the laments of his lonely soul.
But at last the music stopped, and the

to come. It would never do to have those
prim teachers at the doors surprise him at
his emotions.

The teachers were in the building to col-
lect back salaries. In San Francisco, when
the opening of a street, or a park road, or
the leveling of a sand hill empties the sensi-
tive treasury, the deficit can always be met
by docking the school-teachers of a percent-

l!^lHfi

Kitt uncMldUhneta went ntraight to their unmanly Kearta, and tM* Ume their money flowed freely."

small player looked inquiringly at the judge.
Now it is undeniable that, had the judge's
previous humor been /or '* Bone dat Turkey "
instead of against it, the ' ' Traumerei ' ' would
have proved Tinto a nuisance of virulent
type. It is also undeniable, though regret-
table, that a dead wife has more effective-
ness as a moral force than a living one. And
the judge was touched. So touched was he,
that he dared not look up until he had stran-
gled at their birth the sobs that threatened

age of salary. Then a new administration
sets in, and, as a politic move, pays back a
dribble, just enough to insure grateful sup-
port. One of these celestial reimbursements
was being made on the day of Tinto's trial,
and his violin had drawn curiously to the
court doors a throng of happy spinsters, each
with a plethoric chatelaine bag hanging from
her belt and further guarded by the clutch
of a gloved hand.
When fortified to meet the examination of

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A TUNE IN COURT,

these sharp feminine eyes, the judge raised
his head, and his gaze was very severe,
it softened once when it rested on the ap-
turned face of Tinto, but hardened doubly
when directed upon Zanardi. ** Is this the
mrsic that is driving you distracted?" he
donianded in disgust.

Zanardi misinterpreted the source of dis-
gust, and further committed himsel f . ' ' Yes,
yes ; just like-a that. Music like-a that, at
all times Tinto plays."

**Then the best thing Tinto can do for
you is to keep on playing till you grow able
to appreciate it," ordered the judge, and
the medical students drowned his further
words in a shout of applause. A young
doctor, especially during the growth of his
first beard, is invariably a music lover.

** Here, you shaver,"' Called one, ** here's
a half-dollar to buy yourself a Christmas
gift. MaRe it a cake of soap if you can."
As he tossdd the silver, the infection caught
his oomradesi and all began to search their
pockets for small coin.

Tinto thougltt it his professional duty to
go around with his hat, court or no court,
and stoically did so, winding up by besieging
his Honor himself, but giving him a wistful
look rather of thanks for past favor than
an appeal for alms.

** Isn't he cute ? " whispered the teachers.
But they did not give him any of their re-
stored salaries. It had come too hard for
that.

** For .yourself, Tinto," murmured his
Honor, dropping a yellow piece among the
silver. ' •

Hut the poor do not own themselves. What
they have belongs to the head of the faniily,

that he may make a better fight against the
wolf of poverty. Tinto, without even look-
ing at it, wearily carried the money to Luis,
and gave it all up. It was no concern of
his. His duty was just to work and to hand
over what he made like any workhouse
drudge. His childhood never knew the de-
light of spending money.

**0h, the poor little thing!" cried a
teacher. Her eyes moistened and her hand
fumbled in her purse. The " cuteness " of
Tinto could not touch the teachers, they
being too much the martyrs of ** cute " in-
fancy, but his unchildishness went straight
to their womanly hearts, and this time their
money freely flowed.

As the Trevinos eagerly watched the
shower of silver, they correctly estimated it
as suflScient to pay off the last penny owing
upon the house, and figured a residuum for
the recommencement of trade. They w&re
shrewd enough to realize also that this pub-
lic tide-turning would make of them people
of genteel distinction to their neighbors, and
the Trevino faces were as bright with eyes
and teeth as an altai* with tapers*

Zanardi was sensibly endeavoring to sneak
outside, which suggested a finale for the
judge.

Get out, everybody ! " he ordered. * This
is a farce. We have wasted entirely too
much time over it. Clear out."

Thus ended the case, and if the succeeding
cases did not suffer horribly from the sever-
ity which is the reaction of heart-softening
and purse-openingi then id human nature in
the city at the Golden Gate beautifully dif-
ferent from human nature all the rest of the
world over.

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A GROUP FROM UFE, ON THE SHORES OF THE SEA OF GALILEE.

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

By the Reverend John Watson, D.D.,

Author of " The Mind of the Master," *' Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush," etc.

Illustrated prom paintings and drawings by Corwin Knapp Linson.

PART VI.— JESUS' SYMPATHY WITH THE OUTCASTS.— A TYPICAL
DAY IN HIS EARTHLY LIFE.

WHAT is called the middle class has usually
been regarded as a creation of mod-
ern times, and certainly no parallel can be
drawn between society in our day and, say,
the Middle Ages, when a nation was divided
between a handful of nobles and a multitude
of retainers. One land, however, of the
past presented an almost perfect analogy to
our social condition — Palestine in the days
of our Lord. There was an aristocracy com-
posed of a priestly caste, with hereditary
rank and vast endowments, and an outer cir-
cle of Herodian courtiers and state officials.
With this class Jesus had no contact till the
end of His life, when the priests were alarmed
for their privileges and protected themselves
by the cross. There was the proletariat
— the vine-dressers, shepherds, fishermen,
farmers of Galilee, who lived hardly and suf-
fered many wrongs. From this class Jesus
sprang, and to them He was always loyal.
And there was a class in easy circumstances,
of undoubted virtue, good intelligence, and
solid influence, which had a standing feud
with the aristocracy, and regarded the peo-
ple with frank contempt. This was the mid-

dle class, which was the strength of the na-
tion and had an undeniable claim on respect,
but covered itself with disgrace because its
members rejected Jesus with intention and
deliberation.

Between the middle class of His day and
Jesus there seemed to be an inevitable and
naturar antipathy; and Jesus, who dealt so
kindly with the outcasts of society, was in-
variably severe with the respectables. He
laid Himself out to attract and win the prodi-
gal son in the far country, but the correct
elder brother at home He put in the pillory,
till we almost forget the vice of the one and
the virtue of the other. The lawlessness,
the impudence, the evil-living, the corrup-
tion of the sinners Jesus only once described
in the prodigal son, although their manner
of life was to Him utterly loathsome and
most tragic ; but the faults of the Pharisees,
down to their very foibles, He exposes with
merciless satire. It is, indeed, a social para-
dox that Jesus should come to confirm the
law of Moses, and that the middle class of
His time were the devotees of the Law, and
yet that this very Law should rise as a bar-

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178

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

JESUS HEALING IN THE VILLAGES.

And irhithertKkver he entered^ iido rU'Mfj^it^ or citietiy or couhtry^ they l<ihl the stek in the atreeln, and btsovoht him that
they might touch, ij it were but the bordtr of his garment.— 'SI auk, \i. 50. The disciplej*, after the iiij:ht of the etorm, wheu
Jesus appeared to them walking uimn the Rea^ brought their Ixiat to t«h()re at tlie phiiii of (.ieniK^aiet, and it Mas iu tlie
villages of this plain that Jin«U8 >vent about healing the sick. The villa^en of Galilee, >s ith their plahtt-r houK'H of white, blue,
pink, and yellow tints, present a variety and gaiety of color not found in Judea. It is a fevcrifh country to-day, and must
have been so then— low-lying, marshy, dangerous for any but nativen to si)end a night in.— Artij^t's Note.

rier between the Master and the middle class,
80 that Jesus used the Ten Words to condemn
them, and they prosecuted Him as a law-
>-eaker; that Jesus should come to declare
the kinglom, seen afar off by the prophets,
and cnat the respectables had been waiting,

as none others did, for its coming, and yet
that the sinners should answer the invitation
of the Master and possess its riches, while
the Pharisees counted themselves unworthy
of everlasting life. The relation between
Jesus and this class was strained from the

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON.

179

beginning, with suspicion on their side, with
indignation on His; while now and again
there was a hot collision, and at last a life-
and-death wrestle.

For one thing, He could not endure their
immovable and contented self-righteousness,
and this was the point of the parable, at

once so merciless and so merciful, of the
Pharisee and the Publican. It is by a phrase
that a man reveals himself, and when the
Pharisee stood in the temple of God, the
highest and holiest place he could find, and
returned thanks that he was not as other
men, and especially not as this publican, you

THE DEMONIACS.

And w/ien he was corne . . . into the country of the Gergesema^ there met him tuo posseastd a Hit d<vUg^ coming out of
thetombs^ exceeding Jierce.—'SiATTUEv,' ^ viii. 28. The miracle of tlie healing of the demoniacs f^eems to have occurred in the
vicinity of Gergetsa, a city on the eastern shore of the Sea of Galilee, known among the Arabs aa Khersa. The site of the city
Ib in a low plain, at the mouth of a stream, and its crumbling walls cover a large area. As for the tombs, there are said to Ikj
many among the hills, but the pre»encc of Bedouins encamped near by prevented any search for them. Neither could I gather
any information. I have shown them like all Jew ish tomljs, cut in the rocks. In order to illuntrate the general environments,
the tombs, the city of Gergesa below on the plain, the lake, and the northern shore, I have placed the scene in the hills,
departing from the letter of the narrative. The slight drop in the distant coast marks the in-flowing Jordan. In reality, the
demoniac of Mark and Luke must have seen Jesus from the heights as he approached the shore, " afar off," and running
down, met Him near the water.— Autist's Note.

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THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN.

But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and hnd compassion, and ran, and fell on his

neck, and kissed him. — Luke. xv. 2(j.

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON.

181

have Pharisaism taken in the act. Surely
he might have been satisfied to rehearse the
catalogae of his own virtues without the
contrast of another's vices; but as a dark
curtain is hung behind an orator to fling his
figure into relief, so an inattentive or unap-
preciative audience will be most likely to ap-
preciate his spiritual excellence set against
a foil. It was the life-long habit of this re-
spectable to exhibit himself as the very type
and paragon of religion, and it was his art
to keep himself in constant comparison with
the miserables. Unto God and men he pre-
sented an ingenious study in black and white,
and for this end he required a publican.
Each had his role — the Pharisee religion, and
the publican irreligion. **God," says this
artist in religious insolence, *' I thank Thee
that J am not as this publican." Jesus has
been hotter and more solemn ; never has the
Master been keener and more severe.

What gave the edge to Jesus' words was
not that this respectable had greatly exag-
gerated his own virtues or his neighbor's
vices. Let us grant that he did not. His
was certainly an oration rather than a prayer,
but it was neither flattery nor slander; it
was very much matter of fact. If any class
disgraced the Jewish nation in the time of
Jesus, it was the men who collected the Ro-
man taxes and traded on the misery of their
own flesh and blood. Their conduct cut the
sinews of the national life ; their name was
a synonym for avarice and cruelty ; it was
not for nothing that this national traitor was
bracketed' with the social residuum and his
name made a synonym for sinner. If any
single class was the backbone of the nation
it was the Pharisees, and nothing the Master
said against their bigotry and hypocrisy de-
nied their social value. and solidity. They
were, in the main, men who feared God and
loved their nation, and did righteousness, ac-
cording to their light ; and notwithstanding
their exclusiveness and arrogance, they com-
manded the respect of the people.

It was not self-righteous for the Pharisee
to hold that he was a more useful member
of society than the average publican, for this
was simply a fact; but it was inexcusable
self-righteousness for him to take credit for
this circumstance, as under a show of defer-
ence to the Almighty he was doing, since,
indeed, he had no credit in the matter. His
father had been an orthodox, well-living,
reputable man, and he had been born with
the instincts of religious faith and moral de-
cency in his blood. In his youth he had
been drilled in the law of Moses, and on

coming to manhood he found himself a mem-
ber of the Brahmin caste, pledged to the
worship of God and to clean living. With
the glare of public opinion on him, and
hedged round with the habits of his class,
the Pharisee might become narrow and cen-
sorious; it was hardly possible for him to
give the reins to passion, or to outrage social
order. He was held in the path of formal
righteousness, the slave of fortunate circum-
stances. Compare him with the publican,
whom some sudden impulse of repentance
had brought to the Temple, and who had
been dragged for scenic purposes into the
Pharisee's prayer. A publican's son, he in-
herited the feelings of an outcast class —
a rooted suspicion of society and a sullen
hatred of social bonds. One of the vivid
recollections of his childhood was his father
coming home to describe an insult .of the
Pharisees and to rail at religion. For him
there was no school, and the children hooted
him in the street till he felt himself on the
level of a dog. As a man he was a pariah,
and he came to accept the situation. No
good was believed of him, any evil was ex-
pected of him ; he was -ostracised by respect-
able people, he was shut up with reprobates.
What could Jewish society expect of the
publican but insolence, and rapacity, and
shamelessness, and robbery ? So they stood
together in the Temple — the man whom so-
ciety had made, and the man whom society
had ruined — and the Pharisee, with an amaz-
ing audacity, thanked God he was not as this
publican.

Perhaps the crowning offense of the re-
spectables in the eyes of Jesus was their cal-
lousness, and upon one dramatic occasion this
gave the Master a shock of strong indigna-
tion. It was at a feast, where Simon, a chief
Pharisee, had invited Him to his house — not
for courtesy or hospitality, rather for inso-
lent patronage and cunning criticism . Prom
the beginning He was made to know His
place — an inferior asked to dinner as an act
of condescension, who must not expect the
attentions given to other guests on a social
equality with Simon. As each guest arrived,
his sandals were removed by obsequious ser-
vants and his feet washed with cool, refresh-
ing water ; as he sat down in his appointed
place, his head was anointed with fragrant
oil. For the Master there was neither water
nor oil, but the servants, taking their cue
from Simon, allowed Him to pass with a men-
ial's disdain for the poor. By and by at-
tention would be given to the Master, when,
after Simon and his guests had feasted, they

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182

2 HE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

would, at their leisure, put ensnaring ques-
tions to Jesus and gather material tor per-
secutions. As it happened, that day they
were anticipated by one who had not been
invited by Simon nor come to criticise Jesus,
who was ready to repair the neglect of the
servants, and to afford to Jesus a feast
sweeter than meat and drink. And when
Simon sat at the head of his table, full of
polite dislike for the Master, and a woman of
the town washed His feet with her tears, the
extremes of society met, and Jesus marked
the inhumanity of Simon, to whom the woman,
in her penitence, was only an object of con-
tempt.

The supreme day of Jesus' life was the
last; but after that high place of agony and
victory, perhaps the best for a disciple's
purpose is one day in the Galilean ministry,
on which we can follow the Master's work
from sunset to sunset.

Upon the previous day the Master had
been teaching in parables, and had traced
the evolution of the kingdom of God from
the seed cast into the ground, through its
growth and conflict, enlarging also on its
beauty and value, to its cleansing and per-
fection in the drag-net. After the people
had reluctantly dispersed, and He was alone
with His disciples by the lake-side, Jesus
expounded to them the inwardness of those
parables, since they were to be the stewards
of the Divine mysteries. Nothing, neither
physical toil nor bodily pain, is more utterly
exhausting than a great spiritual deliver-
ance; it strains the mind almost to the
breaking, and creates a passionate longing
for rest. As the people were still waiting
in the distance, in hope of more, and Jesus
could not have quiet in Capernaum, He asked
Peter to take Him over to the other side of
the lake, where He could be alone. The
sun had set when the boat put out from the
shore, and Jesus fell sound asleep in the
afterpart of the boat, where some kindly
hand had laid a pillow for His head. After
dark there came one of those sudden, con-
fused storms which lash inland lakes into
fury and which make steering almost use-
less. The water began to fill the undecked
boat, and they were in danger of being
swamped. They were amazed that the
Master should sleep unmoved by the wind
and waves, and they awake Him with re-
proaches, as if they could perish and He be
safe. So dependent had those disciples be-
come on the Master that they now turned to
Him in every strait, and even on their own
fishing-ground looked to Him for deliverance.

He rose, unamazed and unalarmed, whom no
commotion of nature or of man could shake,
and commanded peace, and there was a great
calm ; but it may be that the calm was greater
in the terrified souls of the disciples than in
the waters of the fickle lake. Through the
night they had been tossed and driven ; now,
as the sun's first rays strike the lake, they
come in quiet waters to the eastern shore.

The blue water and green slopes were
bathed in fresh morning light, but the Mas-
ter met, on landing, a storm sadder and
wilder than any that could ever rage on the
Sea of Galilee. Among the rocks on the
side of the hill were caves where the dead
of Gergesa were laid, and in them a maniac
whom none could control nor chains hold.
This was the first person Jesus met, and His
first act this morning, who last night had
caused the windy tempest to cease on the
lake, was to call forth the devil from this
unhappy man, that he might go in peace to
his home, healed and sane. Then Jesus took
boat, still early in the day, and, with a favor-
able wind, sailed back to Capernaum.

The effect of yesterday had not departed,
and the report of His return brought a mul-
titude to the shore who received Him gladly,
and passed one to another the miracle of
Gergesa. Accompanied by the admiring peo-
ple, with here and there a jealous, wrathful
Pharisee, Jesus went to His lodging at Peter's
house. He was obliged again to preach,
standing in a room, while His hearers filled
the house and overflowed into the street.
As the Master went through the town with
the glory of this new miracle upon Him, four
neighbors, speaking together at some corner,
were visited with a sudden inspiration. They
had a friend who, as was well known in Ca-
pernaum, had sown his wild oats with prodi-
gal hand and was now reaping their bitter
harvest in his body as well as his soul.
Stricken with palsy, this man, once strong
and lustful, now lay in his decrepitude an
object of contempt to himself, of pity to the
town. They carry him to the house, and —
on account of the crowd — up to the roof;
they remove the slight ceiling of the room,
and even while the Master is preaching the
sick man is let down before His face, and
four eager faces expect the result, while the
helplessness of the sufferer is his prayer.
*' Son," said the Master with much tender-
ness, as He looked on the wistful face, ** be
of good cheer; thy sins be forgiven thee."
And, behold, at the command of Jesus, the
palsied man arose, a man again before God
and his brethren.

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184

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

Jesus left the house, that He might go to
the lake and rest beside its coolness at noon-
tide of the day ; but for Him that day there
could be no rest till the darkness fell. On
His way to the shore He passes the local cus-
tom-house, and sees the publican sitting in
liis open office. Then He commands Mat-
thew, with His note of spiritual authority,
** Follow Me " ; and with dramatic complete-

ness, as showing in a sign his utter obe-
dience, Matthew leaves everything that hour
and casts in his lot with Jesus. As he sees a
new, clean, unselfish life opening up before
him he has only one desire ungratified, and
that is that Jesus should come to his house
to celebrate this chief event in his life.

Prom the outside, a group of Pharisees
watched the scene and snarled. Jesus, whom

TEACHING BY THE SEASHORE.

The (tame day went Jejtua otit of the homf, ami sat by the sHi-nhtt'. A nd rjreat in ult'itudfc wnr gathered together unto MnL,
fo that he rvetU into a ship, and nat ; and thr- trhf/tf nn/tfifude fttxid on tht xAor^.— Matt. xiii. 1, 2.

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON,

185

nothing escaped, heard the words and under-
stood. Why did He not go to them ? for that
was their suggestion. Because they did not
want Him, and because He did them no good
when He went. Was Simon there, or any of
the men who had been at Simon's feast ? Why
did He come here ? that was the question.
Because He was made welcome, and because
He was doing His appointed work : saving men
from sin. Did they ever expect to see a reli-
gious teacher sitting as an honored guest in a
publican's house, and that publican leaving his
gains to live the religious life ? The Phari-
sees were silent. One controversy seemed
to raise another, and now a few of John
Baptist's disciples, encouraged by the pres-
ence of the Pharisees, asked their question,
and it was not without excuse. They had
been trained in the Baptist's ascetic school,
and had been taught the hardness of the re-
ligious life. " Why do we and the Pharisees
fast oft, but Thy disciples fast not?"
With them and their question Jesus dealt
very kmdly, for He loved loyalty and He
sympathized with their perplexity. ** Do
not grudge my disciples their brief joy ; it
will soon be over. By and by their bride-
groom will depart (by the way of Calvary),
and then John and Peter will be sad enough.
Besides, your master had one message,
and faithfully did he discharge it; I have
another, and My word also must be ful-
filled."

As He was reassuring John's anxious fol-
lowers, another Pharisee has something of hot
importance to say to Him. He is a chief man
in the Church, and a magnate among reli-
gious people — Jairus, the ruler of the syna-
gogue. He falls down, he worships — his
friends called Jesus a blasphemer as he passed
— and pleads his case. "My daughter, my
only daughter, twelve years of age, is on the
point of death. If Thou wilt come and simply
lay Thy hand upon her, she will live. ' ' Jesus
had remained in His place through all the criti-
cism on Himself ; now, in the sorrow of the
ruler, He arose at once, and the people accom-
panied Him. In the thick of the crowd, as they
passed through one of the narrow streets, a
woman, grievously afflicted by a wasting dis-
ease of her sex and overcome by modesty, had
courage only to touch the fringe of Jesus' outer
garment, as it came for a moment within her
reach. When He turned round and asked who
touched Him, His disciples were astonished ;
they did not understand. A score may press
on one by accident, but the touch of a single

finger will be different. It was with intention ;
it was individual; it was a prayer; it was a
sign; it was a secret between two. This
woman could not be hid; she was distin-
guished from the crowd first by her faith,
and then by the Divine mercy.

The pause could not have been five min-
utes, to one man it was five hours ; and so
near are joy and sorrow in human life that
when the woman's heart was lightened with
joy, a foolish servant told Jairus that his
little maid was dead and that it was no use
to trouble the Master. With the alertness
of one whose heart was beating in sympathy
with every human being, Jesus heard the
message, and bade Jairus be of good cheer,
for the hope of his heart was not to be dis-
appointed. Already the women had begun
the ceremony of wailing. Jesus commanded
them to cease — they were celebrating the
victory of death too soon; they might be
needed for singing. Meanwhile they and
the neighbors must leave the room where
the maid was lying, for it was a solemn act
to call back a soul from the other world.
Only the parents and His three intimates
among the twelve were present, when Jesus,
stooping over the couch, said, in the kindly
home-speech in which her father would have
spoken, '* You are sleeping too long, and we
are wearying to see you smile on us all. Dar-
ling, arise! " Obedient to the command of
love, the dear child opened her eyes, and sat
up, and the first face she saw was that of
Jesus.

After this great encounter, which had
crowned the labors of the day, Jesus set out
for home; but even yet His work was not
done, for blind men were waiting for His
coming, so that His return journey to Peter's
house was marked by miracles. And when
He had reached its welcome shelter, ex-
hausted in soul and body, there was brought
to Him one who was afflicted with a dumb
devil, and he also must be delivered. At
last Jesus casts Himself on his poor couch
and sleeps; but He had driven sleep from
other homes for gladness of heart. Across
the lake a man in his senses is at home
again; Matthew's heart is on fire, for the
kingdom of God is come to him ; a mother
is thanking God because her prodigal son is
forgiven and healed ; again the light is burn-
ing in Jairus' house, where they are still
rejoicing, for this day God has visited His
people, and Capernaum has seen His sal-
vation.

{To be continued.)

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REID AND THE "GENERAL ARMSTRONG."

By Cyrus Townsend Brady,

Author of " For Love of Country,*' " For the Freedom of the Sea,'* " The Grip of Honor," etc.

THE GREATEST FIGHT IN THE HISTORY OF AMERICAN

PRIVATEERS.

[HE most conspicuous of all the
American privateers, for he
fought the greatest fight in
their records and the most
important, was Captain Sam-
uel Chester Reid. It gives
one who has an idea that
there has been a great gulf
fixed from time immemorial
between England and the
United States something of
a shock to find that Reid was the son of an
English naval officer. This o^cer, while in
charge of a boat expedition in the war of
the Revolution, was captured by the rebel-
lious colonists, and when he had been suf-
ficiently persuaded of the justice of their
cause, he resigned his commission in the
British Navy and entered the American ser-
vice. It may be that Miss Rebecca Chester,
whose people were brave soldiers and stanch
supporters of the Revolution, had something
to do with the decision at which he arrived ;
at any rate, he married her in 1781, and to
them in 1783, the year of the peace, was
bom the great privateer.

He came of distinguished ancestry on both
sides of the house, his father being a direct
descendant of the Lord High Admiral of Scot-
land in the great days of Bruce ; while the
Chesters were of old Colonial and English
stock, none better, counting lords and earls
galore among them. Young Reid was, there-
fore, brought up like a gentleman to adorn
that station in life unto which it had pleased
God to call him, and in every way he proved
worthy of his sires. His first choice of a
profession was the navy — following in the
footsteps of the Lord High Admiral afore-
said—and he learned some good lessons while
still a young boy from that past master of
seamanship, discipline, and hard, close fight-
ing, Thomas Truxtun, in whose squadron he
served as a midshipman in the frigate " Bal-
timore" in the French War. For various
reasons, however, at the close of that little

war, he entered the mercantile marine, and,
rising rapidly to command rank, became
widely known as a bold and successful navi-
gator and captain.

About the middle of the year 1814 he was
given command, by her owners, of the ** Gen-
eral Armstrong," a small New York priva-
teer, brigantine rigged, and one of the smart-
est, most noted, and successful of her class.
She had already proved, under her other gal-
lant commanders, that she could not only
prey, but fight. She had just returned from
her fifth lucky cruise. I suppose her to have
been about 200 tons burthen, 120 feet long
over all, and about thirty feet in beam. Her
armament consisted of seven guns— three long
nines in each broadside, and a long twenty-
four pounder on a pivot amidships, in sea
parlance a **Long Tom." Her crew and
officers numbered ninety men. They had been
selected by Reid himself with especial care,
and were probably quite up to the high stand-
ard which obtained on that most gallant frig-
ate, the United States ship ** Constitution,"
herself.

The 26th of September, 1814, found Reid
and the ** Armstrong " at the Island of Fayal
in the Azores. He had run the blockade off
New York about the middle of the month,
distancing all pursuers by his great speed,
and had stopped at the island, on his voyage
to the English Channel, for food and water.
The bay of Da Horta, the principal town and
seaport in the Island of Fayal, is crescent-
shaped, and is surrounded by a sea-wall, with
the old Castle of Santa Cruz, even then an
obsolete fortification, at the base of the cres-
cent. Opposite to the entrance of the bay,
on a neighboring island, boldly rises the
splendid mountain called Pico to a height of
nearly 8,000 feet, and on all sides are lofty
mountains and hills which descend in beetling
crags and wild ravines to the water's edge.

Having speedily fulfilled his errand, the
American skipper had gone ashore to call
upon and dine with the United States consul.

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REID AND THE ''GENERAL ARMSTRONG:'

187

ii"'&'!;^^l^

'REID SENT HIS GUESTS POST-HASTE ASHORE.

Mr. Dabney; and after dinner had brought
him, and a party of gentlemen with him, off
to inspect his vessel. Just about sunset, the
spars of a large brig-of-war flying English
colors were discovered making around the
rocky headlands which bound the entrance
to the harbor. The brig, it was soon discov-
ered, was followed by two other large ships,
still some distance away. It was the first
time any English war vessels had been in the
harbor for months. The Portuguese pilot

had told the English commodore of the ar-
rival of the privateer, and he came into the
harbor with his squadron with the deliberate
purpose of effecting her capture.

In spite of Consul Dabney' s assurances, it
instantly occurred to the wary and experi-
enced Reid that the neutrality of the place
would not be respected by the English. It
seems to be a general practice among na-
tions to disregard the so-called laws of neu-
trality with perfect equanimity, provided they

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188

REID AND THE ''GENERAL ARMSTRONG:'

feel themselves able and willing to abide the
consequences. England has done it on sev-
eral occasions ; and the United States have not
hesitated to follow her example as late as
in the Civil War, so we can cast no stones
in this case. Reid sent his guests post-haste
dshore, and began to warp his vessel closer
into the harbor. The English brig, which
proved to be the "Carnation," eighteen
^ns, Commander George Bentham, did not
waste any time. She had hardly dropped
anchor in the harbor, before she exchanged
signals with the other ships, and then put
out four boats crowded with about 120 armed
men, who, with the usaal British intrepidity,
made straight for the ** Armstrong."

Reid left the business of warping in to a
more convenient season, dropped anchor tem-
porarily, called his men to quarters, and, as
the menacing boats rapidly drew near, he re-
peatedly hailed them to discover their pur-
pose, warning them to desist from their ap-
proach or come on at their peril. There
was not the least doubt as to the character
of the movement in any rational mind. The
armed men were in plain sight, as the moon
now flooded the placid waters of the bay
with a soft autumnal splendor. The Eng-
lish disdaining to make any reply to his haiU,
and urging their boats persistently onward,
Reid opened the fight with a severe, well-
directed fire from the great guns of his bat-
tery, and his small arms, to which the enemy
replied with boat guns and an ineffective
musketry fire.

A very few minutes were sufficient to de-
termine this event. Only one boat touched
the American, and most of the persons in
her were killed or wounded. The other boats
stopped rowing, and the officers called for
quarter. Then while Reid, who might have
sunk all of them without difficulty, mercifully
held his fire, the boats turned tail, and, with
a large number of killed and wounded on
board, made their way back to the brig.
They had hoped to carry the ** Armstrong "
by a coup-de-mainy but had met with a most
discouraging and costly repulse instead. The
privateer had only one man killed, and her
first lieutenant, a brother of the noted Gen-
eral Wool of the United States Army, severely
wounded. Two more masterful players en-
tered the game at this juncture, however, in
the shape of His Britannic Majesty's frigate
" Rota," thirty-eight, Captain Philip Somer-
ville, followed by His Britannic Majesty's
huge ship of the line " Plantagenet," sev-
enty-four, Commodore Robert Lloyd, who
commanded the squadron. This raised the

effective force of the enemy to nearly 200
guns and 1,200 men.

It was soon evident that Commodore Lloyd
intended to take up the frustrated attempt
of the " Carnation," for boats were called
away from all three ships to the number of
twelve. This statement is made upon the
testimony of unimpeachable witnesses, among
them Captain Reid and Consul Dabney, a fine
old gentleman of the highest reputation, who
stood upon shore in full sight of the battle,
with many other observers, some of whom
go so far as to say there were fourteen boats,
though the British allow there were but seven.
These boats were loaded with nearly 450 men.
They were towed in by the brig, and then
rendezvoused in three divisions under the lee
of a little reef just beyond gunshot range
from the " Armstrong," while they matured
their plans for the contemplated attack.

Meanwhile Reid and his gallant crew, not
in the least alarmed by this display of over-
whelming force, had completed their prep-
arations to receive and repel the expected
onslaught. The ** Armstrong" had been
warped within a short distance of the shore,
where she lay under the useless and silent
guns of the Portuguese castle. Two of the
guns on the unengaged side of her had been
shifted over to face the enemy, through ports
cut in the rail for them. All the small arms
in the brigantine— of which she had a great
many, the pistols actually being in bucket-
fuls — had been charged and placed close at
hand. Boarding nettings made of heavily
tarred rope had been triced up from one end
of the ship to the other. The cutlasses,
boarding axes, and pikes were distributed
to the men, who were all provided with steel
and leather boarding caps. Reid commanded
upon the quarter-deck, his lieutenants in the
waist and forward.

Pending any movement of the British, the
men were allowed to rest beside the guns,
while the officers and a few of the older and
more experienced seamen kept watch. It
was a strange picture the stars looked down
upon that calm September night — that of
the little vessel surrounded by her grim and
threatening antagonists, her little crew men-
aced by a force which outnumbered them five
to one. Yet we are told that the hardy men
slept on the white deck of the privateer,
under the shadow of the great peaks and
mountains of the island, as soundly and
peacefully as though they had a night at
home. There was something notable, too,
in the spirit which their quiet slumber be-
tokened, of their confidence and trust in

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'THE ENGLISH

. MANFULLY TUGGING AT THE OARS, SWEPT AROUND THE WRECKED BOAT AND
DASHED INTO CLOSE ACTION AT ONCE."

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190

REID AND THE ''GENERAL ARMSTRONG.''

the officers, to whom they looked up as the
American sailor has ever looked up to those
who led him.

About twelve o'clock, under the lead of
Lieutenant William Matterface, the first lieu-
tenant of the '' Plantagenet,'' the flotilla of
boats moved out around the reef, and in line
ahead— that is, in a long single column —
swept down upon the ** Armstrong." The
midshipmen and other junior officers ran
along the decks of the privateer and awak-
ened the sleeping men, who sprang quietly
to their stations. The stillness of the night
was broken only by the rustle of the oars in
the row-locks, and the splash of the dark
water parted by the bows of the boats, or
tossed up in the air by the feathering blades
of the oars, to sparkle in the moonlight.
The men on the "Armstrong," so far as the
attacking party could see, might have been
asleep or dead.

The shore was fairly crowded with specta-
tors now, who held their breath while watch-
ing the advance and awaiting the dinoyement.
Out in the harbor, the men left upon the
ships swarmed in black clusters in the rig-
ging at eager gaze. The officers of the Eng-
lish men-of-war were closely grouped on the
different quarter-decks eagerly scanning the
** Armstrong" through their night glasses.
With what apprehension Dabney and his son
and the few Americans on shore watched the
British draw near ! It was a moment fraught
with the most intense anxiety. Would the
" Armstrong " never fire ? Was Reid asleep
or dead ? Had she been abandoned by her
crew ? Ah ! What was that ?

A flash of light tore through the gray dark-
ness. A cloud of smoke broke out amidships
on the privateer, and a roar like thunder
echoed and reechoed among the surrounding
hills. * * Long Tom ' ' had spoken ! The bat-
tle was on. Before the echo had died away,
the other guns in the starboard battery,
which had been trained upon the advancing
line, spoke in quick succession, and sent
their messengers of death out over the dark
waters. The head of the column was smashed
to pieces by the discharge. The first boat
was disabled, and the shower of grape did
great execution all along the line. With the
courage of their race, the stalwart English
broke into loud cheers, and, manfully tugging
at the oars, swept around the wrecked boat
and dashed into close action at once. The
boat carronades in the bows of the launches
now rang out bravely, adding their sharp
notes to the confusion of the exciting mo-
ment, as they returned the ** Armstrong's "

fire. The men of the privateer remained
grimly silent, for Reid's command had been:

'* No cheering, lads, till we have beat them
off and gained the victory ! "

There was no time for either side to load its
artillery again before the first boat crashed
against the side of the privateer, and the
leading man sprang up on her low rail. He
clutched the netting which barred his pas-
sage, and, shortening his sword, hacked fran-
tically at it. He was a fair and easy mark
to an old man-of-war' s-man on the brigantine,
who buried a half-pike deep in his bosom.
He had scarcely fallen back before others,
undaunted by his fate, eagerly sprang to the
rail and took his place. Encouraged and led
by their officers, the English strove to board
on every hand, and the action at once be-
came*general . The boats ranged themselves
about the engaged side of the ** Armstrong "
as hounds surround a wild boar at bay; one
division attacked forward, the other in the
waist, and the last and strongest endeavored
to gain the quarter.

For a few moments the roar of the great
guns was succeeded by the sharp crackle of
the small arms, the pistols and muskets of the
marines ; and the darkness was punctured by
vivid flashes of fire, in lurid contrast to the
moon's pale light. But these ringing reports
gradually died away, and, as there was no time
to recharge the guns, the conflict resolved it-
self into anold-fashionedhand-to-handencoun-
ter. The cheers, shouts, curses, and groans of
the desperate men, mad with the blood lust
of the fight ; the ringing of steel on steel, as
sword gritted against sword, or ax crashed
on boarding cap, or bayonet crossed half-pike
in the dreadful fray, filled the hearts of the
spectators near by on the shore with horror.
The English, i n overwhelming numbers, though
at a disadvantage as regards position, striv-
ing determinedly to make good a footing on
the deck, fought with the same indomitable
courage as their American brethren. Most
gallantly led, again and again they sprang at
the rail, officer after officer fell, man after
man was cut down; the stout arms of the
privateersmen grew weary with hacking, and
hewing, and slaughtering men. The board-
ing netting was at last nearly cut to pieces,
and the way was clear for an entrance. Al-
though the slight success came too late to
be of much service, a lodgment was finally
effected forward on the forecastle by way of
the bowsprit ; one of the American lieuten-
ants in command there had been killed, the
other wounded.

At this moment Reid himself, the only offi-

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REID AND THE ** GENERAL ARMSTRONG:'

191

cer of rank now left on deck, after a brief
rally with swords between them, in which he
was slightly wounded, succeeded in cutting
down Matterface, the English leader, who
had been engaged in a last desperate en-

the bow, and seeing that the enemy near
him had been effectively disposed of, the
Captain led a dashing charge forward and
speedily cleared the forecastle. It was all
over. That was the expiring effort of the

* AGAIN AND AGAIN THEY SPRANG AT THE RAIL, OFFICER AFTER OFFICER FELL, MAN AFTER MAN WAS CUT DOWN.'

deavor to effect a lodgment on the quarter-
deck, and all danger from further attack
there was over. Some of the boats of this
division were sheering off slowly, manned by
a few oarsmen ; others full of silent dead and
shrieking wounded were aimlessly drifting
about. The party attacking the waist had
fared little better. Alarmed by the cries in

English. They hurried away as they were
able, in full retreat. They had been totally
beaten.

Two of the boats were captured, two of
them had been sunk, two others drifted
ashore and were abandoned by the remainder
of their crews, all but three of the sixty or
seventy men they originally contained being

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192

REID AND THE ** GENERAL ARMSTRONG:'

killed or wounded. In one of the boats all
were killed but four. Most of the boats
that escaped regained their respective ships
with the greatest difficulty, in a sinking con-
dition, not only from the fire of the American
heavy guns, but on account of having been
stove in by solid shot hurled into them by
the Americans. The total loss was 250 men
on the part of the British, nearly half of
whom were killed, and the others severely
wounded. The Americans had two killed and
only seven wounded! It seems incredible,
but it is true, though the British admit only
about half the losses ascribed to them. The
action had lasted forty minutes.

Not much damage had been done to the
privateer either. The boarding netting had
been literally cut to pieces ; some of the guns,
including the ** Long Tom," had been dis-
mounted by the shots from the boat carron-
ades ; but a few hours sufficed to put every-
thing to rights again.

Sending his dead and wounded ashore, and
with the remaining men asleep in sheer ex-
haustion at their quarters again, Reid waited
for the next move. At daybreak the * * Carna-
tion " weighed anchor, sheeted home her top-
sails, and got under way. When she came
within range, she opened a fierce cannonade
from her heavy guns upon the privateer,
which did much damage to the vessel, though
producing no casualties among the Ci'ew.
Reid and his men met and returned the attack
with the splendid spirit they had all along ex-
hibited, discharging the guns of their smaller
battery with a calm deliberation which enabled
them to do great execution. After a short
and fierce engagement, the * * Carnation ' ' pru-
dently withdrew from the combat, her fore-
topmast having been shot away, and her
other headgear being much damaged and dis-
abled ; with several more of her crew killed
and wounded, mainly by shot from ** Long
Tom," which, carefully and skilfully served,
had again saved the day. This was victory
number three.

The Portuguese governor meanwhile was
protesting against the violation of neutral-
ity, and requesting Commodore Lloyd to de-
sist from the fighting. He was informed in
reply that the English intended to capture
the privateer if they had to bring the ship
of the line in and bombard the town to do
it. Seeing the uselessness of further resist-
ance, and having maintained the honor of the
American flag as few men have been able to
do, after fighting a battle which is without
parallel in naval annals, and having acquired
glory sufficient to satisfy any reasonable man.

Reid determined, upon the advice of Dabney
and others, to sink his ship; so the *' Long
Tom," which had done such splendid execu-
tion, was swung inboard and pointed down
the hatchway and discharged. The '' Arm-
strong " went down from the shot from her
own guns. Reid and his men, after spiking
the great guns, throwing overboard the pow-
der and small arms, and removing their pri-
vate belongings, escaped to the shore. A
boat party from the English boarded the sink-
ing ship and set what remained of her above
the water on fire.

The loss in the first and third attacks prob-
ably raised the British total to nearly 300,
though it had not increased that of the
Americans. There are several fleet actions
on record in which the British won glorious
victories without inflicting or receiving so
much damage as they got in the combat with
this little insignificant privateer. The Eng-
lish commander-in-chief was in a rage at the
results of the action, so much so that he never
made proper report of it to the home authori-
ties ; but the statements here given are sup-
ported by unimpeachable evidence. Lloyd
was so angered that he insisted that there
were British deserters among the escaped
American crew on shore, and actually com-
pelled the Portuguese commander of the isl-
and to have the seamen mustered that he
might inspect them. He didn't find any
deserters, or at least he did not try to take
any, which showed a late discretion on his
part.

The action had an importance far beyond
its immediate results, in this way: the three
English ships were destined to form a part
of the fleet rendezvousing at Jamaica to con-
vey Packenham's army of Wellington's vet-
erans to the attack on New Orleans. A de-
lay of ten days was caused by the necessity
0 f burying the dead, attending to the wounded,
and repairing the brig and boats at Fayal.
Consequently, the fleet at Jamaica, which this
squadron finally joined, was also delayed ten
days in its departure, to the great indigna-
tion of the admiral ; and this was just the
time that was required to permit the doughty
Andrew Jackson to assemble that army and
make those preparations by which he was
enabled to win one of the most stupendous
victories that was ever achieved upon the
land.

Reid himself was received with the great-
est honor on his return to America. He
lived many years, and rendered his country
many another good service, after the Fayal
fight, his death not occurring until 1861.

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McClure's Magazine.

Vol. XV.

JULY, 1900.

No. 3.

THE SEA-BUILDERS.

By Ray Stannard Baker.

TYPICAL INSTANCES OF THE BOLDNESS, SKILL, AND ENDURANCE
OF THE MEN WHO ERECT THE DANGER SIGNALS ON ROCKS
AND SHOALS.

Illustrated with Photographs Loaned by the United States Lighthouse Board, and Other Pictures.

PON a dark night, the entire
Atlantic coast of the United
States from the easternmost
point of Maine to Cape Look-
out in North Carolina is
marked with lights like a
city street. Before the watch on a coast-
wise steamer plying down loses one light
over the vessel's stem, another flashes white
or red above the prow. Southward from
Cape Lookout to the tip of Florida, around
the Gulf of Mexico, and up the Pacific coast,
a steamer is never more than two hours' sail-
ing beyond the range of some one of these
signboards of the sea. Every harbor fair-
way on the entire 25,000 miles of coast-line
bears its own distinctive lights and buoys, so
that even the most blunder-headed skipper
cannot go astray. The navigator of fresh
water may travel the length of the great lakes
and up the Mississippi, or up any one of a
score of other great rivers, and find a warn-
ing light blinking at him from every bar and
reef.

In its solicitude for the ships that seek its
harbors, the United States Government main-
tains more than 1,100 lighthouses and lighted
beacons ; eighty-eight light-vessels and lan-
tern buoys; and nearly 1,800 post lights,
most of which mark the shores of navigable
rivers. Three hundred and fifty-four siren
signals, besides other hundreds operated in

connection with the regular lighthouse ser-
vice, blow a deep bass warning at the rising
of a fog. Whistling-buoys, bell-buoys, and
shoal-buoys to the number of nearly 5,000
are distributed along the channels of a hun-
dred harbors. In the daytime dangerous bits
of coast or river are indicated by 434 day
beacons. A fleet of forty-one vessels and
more than 4,200 men are required to attend,
repair, and supply these aids to navigation;
the cost to the people of the country being
between $3,000,000 and $4,000,000 a year.
A large proportion of the lighthouses,
which are by far the most important gov-
ernmental works for the protection of the
mariner, are built on land well above the
wash of the sea, where the construction re-
quires only the ordinary skill of the carpenter,
the mason, and the iron-worker. The small
remaining residue, the off-shore lights, built
in the most difiicult and dangerous locations
that can be selected, have cost more, both in
construction and in subsequent maintenance,
than all the others put together. The true
sea-builder speaks with something akin to
contempt for the ordinary shore light. He
must have tides, breakers, ice-packs, wrecks,
fierce currents, and wind storms to test his
metal and to show what he can do. Not
only must he be a skilled engineer and builder,
but he has need of the mysterious human
elements of courage, executive foresight, re-

'WHEN IT IS EVENING'

is ert-niug^ ye *ay. It irili btfair Ufiither :

(oprMMjIte pape).~ \Vhfn it earth is equallr Syrian. Where the olives do not tlve a note

_, , ,, •e/rtir Htather: forlhe ttky i« red. of green -a real grwn, in this envelo|ie of yellow li^ht— there

—Matt. xvl. 2. Not literally red, but, as 1 have ob«»er\e<i it, *^ * ""^ ' . t . . . ...

of II rtery glow of red and yellow, a brazen sicy, the ending of
a brilliant day. Tlie Intense vivldneps of color In the plcy is
peculiarly Syrian, and the contrast of ntls and violets on the

are but the two narmonies, orange and violet, running their
gamuts of varving tones.— Artij«t> Note. See "Tlie Life
of the Master,'^ by Dr. John Watson, p. «78.

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194

THE SEA-BUILDERS.

Bourcefnlness in the
face of danger, and
perseverance in sur-
mounting obstacles.

In lighthouse build-
ing, the stone-tower
light easily takes pre-
c^ence both in age
and in the difficulties
and dangers which at-
tend its construction.
A little more than
140 years ago, John
Smeaton, a maker of
odd and intricate
scientific instruments
and a dabbler in
mechanical engineer-
ing, was called upon
to place a light on
the bold reefs of
Eddystone, near
Plymouth, England,
and it is to him that

ROBERT STEVENSON, BUILDER OF THE FAMOUS
BELL ROCK UGHTHOCSE, AND AUTHOR OP IM-
PORTANT INVENTIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS IN
THE STBTEM OF SEA UGHTING.

From ft boft hj Jotte^ now in the library of Bell Rock
Ligbthouie.

builder has to meet
lies in placing the
foundation. For in-
stance, when Captain
Alexander began work
on Minof 8 I^ge, in
1855, he had an
apparently impossible
problem to solve.
A bold, black knob
of rock lay in the
sea just off the
southeastern chop of
Massachusetts Bay.
At high tide the
waters covered it
entirely, and its place
was indicated by a
few restless breakers,
or, if the water was
very calm, by a
smooth, oily, treacher-
ous eddy. At the
lowest tide, a glisten-

the world owes the idea of building a light- ing head, laced around with a collar of surf,

house in the form of a solid stone tower, protruded a few feet above the surface of

In stone-tower lights, as in all other kinds, the water. In thirty years' time forty-three

the first and greatest difficulty which the vessels had been dashed to pieces upon it.

THE BELL ROCK UGHTH0U8E, ON THE EASTERN COAST OP SCOTLAND.

From the imintlnir by Tamer. The IU«U Rock Llghthouiie wan buiJl by MuUrx St.-vmw.n, prand father of Roberl Ix>al»
Htevenion, on the Inchcape Reef, in the North S<»a, xwm Duiulfc, Scotland, In 1807-1810.

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THE SEA-BUILDERS.

195

fair
at".

mi fAWi w-

:jf*A

twenty-seven of which were totally lost, to-
gether with their crews. A small light,
propped on wrought-iron piles, had already
occupied the rock ; but
on a stormy night in
April, 1851, while the
bell in the tower was
ringing furiously, the
waves and the wind
twisted it from its
moorings, and hurled it
more than a hundred
feet off into the sea,
carrying the keepers
with it. Upon this ill-
fated rock Captain
Alexander agreed to
build a stone tower 106
feet high and thirty
feet in diameter at the
base. On his first visit
to the reef, it was so
slippery with sea moss,
and the waves dashed
over it so fiercely, that
he could not maintain
his footing. Part of
the ledge was always
covered with water, and
the remainder, even at
low tide, was never bare
more than three or four
hours at a time. '

Captain Alexander
sent a crew of men to
the rock to scrape it
clear of weeds and to
cut level steps on which
they could maintain a
firm footing. They
worked with desperate
haste and energy.
When a great wave
came rolling in from
the sea, the foreman
shouted, and they all
fell on their faces,
clinging together, and
held their breath until
the rock was bare
again. Sometimes when
a storm blew up sud-
denly and the boats
dared not approach near
enough to effect a land-
ing, the boatswain was accustomed to cast
out a line. One of the workmen would seize
it, make it fast to his wrist, and plunge
boldly into the sea. Then the sailors would

THE PRESENT LIGHTHOUSE ON MINOT'S LEDGE,
NEAR THE ENTRANCE OP MASSACHUSETTS
BAT, PIPTEEN MILES SOUTHEAST
BOSTON.

pull him in like a great clumsy cod. Working
in instant danger of their lives, and continu-
ally drenched and suffering from the smart-
ing of salt-water sores,
Captain Alexander's
men were able to cut
only four or five little
foot-holes in the rock
during the whole of the
first season. But they
could console them-
selves with the fact
that it took Winstanley,
in building the first
Eddystone light, four
years to drill twelve
foundation holes and fit
them with iroQ rods.

In the second year,
the workmen succeeded
in building an iron plat-
form twenty feet above
low water. Ropes were
stretched between the
piles on which it rested,
and when the waves
were high, the men
clung to them to pre-
vent beihg washed into
the sea. The next win-
ter a big coast-wise
bark, driven in by a
storm, swept away the
platform, crushed the
face of the rock, and
ruined the result of two
years of hard work in a
single night. In the
thlnl year, the work-
men succored in laying
four foundation stones ;
and in the fifth year,
the six lower courses
of the tower were com-
pleted. The work of
fitting the stones in
place was full of excite-
ment. Stout bags of
sand were swung on a
crane from a boat to
the rock. While they
were pitching and toss-
ing in the air, the men
caught them, and piled
them up in the form of
a small pen, and rammed them firmly together.
Sometimes it took three or four staggering
men, each clinging with one hand to the life-
ropes, to handle a single bag^ The inside of
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Rising Mbecr out of the sea, like a huge stone
cannon, month upward."— LoNorELLOw.

196

THE SEA-BUILDERS.

this primitive coflfer-dam was then bailed out,
and wiped dry with a sponge. Meantime the
men on the boat had prepared the stone by lay-
ing it on a piece of thin muslin covered with
mortar, like a mustard plaster. The edges
of the muslin were then drawn up around the
top of the stone, and it was lowered into the
coffer-dam. Each stone was dovetailed so
that it fitted closely into the stone next ad-
joining it in the course. The difficulty of
fitting a stone held aloft on a swinging crane
with the waves dashing around the workmen's
legs can well be imagined. Quantities of
sledges and drills were swept from the rock
and lost. One of the more inventive work-
men conceived the idea of wearing a life-belt
and fastening his sledge to his wrist. This
method was generally adopted, and it worked
admirably until a breaker washed one of the
men oflf the rock. Owing to the weight on
his wrist, he went down head first, and his legs
were left sprawling above the surface of the
water. He was rescued with the greatest
difficulty.

In five years' time the light was finished,

"rising sheer out of the sea," as Longfellow
describes it, ''like a huge stone cannon, mouth
upward." It cost the government $300,000.
The devotion and the loyalty of the light-
house builder approach the enthusiasm of
the soldier in the heat of battle. When the
first of that famous family of engineers, the
Stevensons, was building the Bell Rock Light
on the Inchcape Reef, his Scotchmen worked
with the desperation of despair. Only two
could remain on the rock at a time, but they
stuck there with the tenacity of leeches, the
cold water of the North Sea bearing down
every few minutes and whipping entirely over
them. In describing the progress of the
work, Stevenson tells with quaint humor how
the drenched workers were cheered by a sailor
on board the work-ship who played sweetly on
a German flute. Iron rods were fastened into
the reef to hold the courses of the tower.
When the first stone was at last swung out
on the tipsy crane, the workmen, ragged and
chilled, and worn with the hard struggle, clung
to the iron rods and cheered madly, like sol-
diers just over the crest of an enemy's fort.

THE FOWEY ROCKS UGHTHOUSB, FLORIDA.

LAYING A WALL UNDER THE ICE-COLD
WATERS OF LAKE HURON.

One of the most difficult of all stone-tower
lighthouses to build was the Spectacle Reef
Light, in the northern end of Lake Huron,
near the Straits of Mackinac. Here the prob-
lem was to deal not with tides or heavy
seas, but with the crushing force of the ice-
packs that came down out of the North and
moved with all of the mighty power of a
glacier. The site of the tower was a lone
rock lying more than ten miles from land and
eleven feet under the surface of the water.
At first the engineers declared the work im-
possible of accomplishment, but the wreck of
a number of valuable vessels on the reef
spurred them to attempt it. The plans
were drawn by General 0. M. Poe, who was
Sherman's chief engineer on the famous
march to the sea. An enormous wooden
crib, ninety-two feet square, twenty-four feet
high, and enclosing a space sixty-eight feet
square, was built at a harbor twelve miles
away, and towed out to the rock. Here it
was sunk to the bottom, and weighted with
stone, and thus was formed a quiet pond in
which the work could be prosecuted. A bot-
tomless tub, thirty-six feet in diameter and
having staves fourteen feet long, was now
built, and suspended exactly over the site of
the tower. A rope of oakum was tacked to
its lower edge ; and then when a diver had

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THE SEA-BUILDERS,

197

A STORM AT THE TILLAMOOK UGHTHOUSE, IN THE PAQnC, ONE MILE OUT PBOM TILLAMOOK HEAD, ORBGON.

cleaned off the rock below, the tub was low-
ered into the water and down to the rock.
The staves were mauled down until each
pressed close down on the rock. Then the
divers, toiling in the icy water, filled all of
the openings around the bottom of the tub
with hay and Portland cement. The tub being
thus made perfectly tight, a huge pump soon
emptied it of all the water^ and the rock lay
clean and bare, ready for the workmen.

Owing to the approach of winter, great
haste was necessary to secure the prelimi-
nary work so that it would not be affected
by the ice. Not infrequently the men were
called out at three o'clock in the morning,
and they were allowed only a few minut^
for meals during a day's work, which often
lasted from eighteen to twenty-one hours.
During the last days of the season, snow
and sleet fell almost constantly, and the
waves frequently dashed over the break-
water, keeping the men drenched. The next
summer the work was continued with renewed
zeal. For the first thirty-four feet, the tower
was built of solid masonry, thirty-two feet

in diameter, the stones all dovetailed firmly
together, and the courses attached one to
another with heavy iron rods. In the top
of the tower, five keepers' rooms were built,
one above the other, and connected with
spiral stairways. Far up at the pinnacle,
stands the cylindrical box of iron and glass
which protects the light. The cost of the
Spectacle Reef tower was $375,000. In the
spring after it was finished, the work of
the builders was given a remarkable test.
The keepers, returning to their sturdy charge,
found the hitherto irresistible ice-pack piled
to a depth of more than thirty feet around
the tower, so that they had to cut their way
in to the door. Following General Poe's
plans, a similar lighthouse was afterwards
constructed on Stannard Rock, in Lake
Superior.

WINTERING ON A WAVE-SWEPT ROCK IN THE
NORTH PACIFIC.

Even more formidable difficulties and dan-
gers were encountered in building Tillampok
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198

THE SEA-BUILDERS.

CONSTRUCTION OF THE RACE ROCK UGHTHOUSE, LONG ISLAND SOUND, NEW YORK.

This picture, showing the state of the foundation on September 5, 1874, is from a sketch by Mr. F. Hopkinson Smith, the

constructing engineer.

lighthouse, oflf the coast of Oregon. While
its foundation is not submerged, yet because
of its exposed position in the ocean it be-
longs properly among the off-shore lights.
The island rock on which it rests rises a
sheer eighty feet above a brawling sea. It is
only a mile from the mainland, but the
nearest harbor, owing to the precipitous
shores, is twenty miles away, at the mouth
of the Columbia River. So violent are the
waves that break around the ragged edges of
the island, that it was only with the utmost
difficulty that the surveyors made their first
landings. One expedition was headed by an
experienced English lighthouse-builder named
Trewavas. When he reached the rock, it
was edged with surf, although the sea out-
side was almost wholly calm. When the
boat was swept up close to the rock, he and
one of the sailors leaped for shore. Tre-
wavas stumbled, and was carried out to sea,
and drowned in sight of his boat's crew.

One of the earliest and oddest difficulties
with which the Tillamook builders had to
contend was an immense herd of sea-lions,
which defended their ancient citadel with
persistent valor. Before the workmen were
allowed undisputed possession, they were
compelled to arm themselves, and drive the
herd repeatedly into the sea.

Owing to the great difficulty in making
landings, most of the workmen were sent to
the rock in a breeches-buoy. A thick haw-
ser was stretched from the summit of the
island to the mast of a ship lying 300 feet
away in calm water. Along this traveled
the buoy, which consisted of a life-preserver
fastened to a stout pair of breeches cut off
at the knees. Sometimes when the water was
a trifle rough, giving the ship a rolling mo-
tion, the hawser would slacken suddenly, let
the buoy and its passenger drop with sickening
velocity into the sea, and then snatch them
out, and hurl them fiercely a hundred feet

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THE SEA-BUILDERS.

199

in air. Only men of seasoned pluck could
be persuaded to make this trip at all. A large
crew were finally landed, with supplies enough
to last them several months, and at the com-
ing of winter and rough weather the ship
was compelled to leave them to their fate.
One night in January, a tornado drove the
waves entirely over
the rock, crushing the
4;ent in wMch the men
slept, and washing
away most of their
provisions and nearly
all of their tools, cloth-
ing, and equipment.
For days at a time, in
the coldest weather of
a northern winter,
they were compelled to
lie clinging to the
slippery rock, drenched
with icy water, exposed
to swiftly succeeding
storms of snow and
sleet, and cut by the
sharp sea winds. Dur-
ing all of this time
they had no sufficient
means of warming
themselves, practically
no fresh water to drink,
and nothing to eat but
hard-tack and bacon,
soaked in sea water.
Few Arctic explorers
have had to suffer the
perils and privations to
which these lighthouse-
builders were subjected.
And yet they lived, and
built a great lighthouse
on the summit of the
rock

Colonel G. L. Gil-
lespie, the engineer
who had charge of this
wonderful work, tells
an amusing story of the
difficulties of the lighthouse establishment
in finding a cook who was willing to live on
the rock, cut off wholly for montlS at a time
from communication with the outside world.
Finally, a portly, good-natured German
named Greuber agreed to accept the position.
He was promptly sent down to Tillamook,
but when he saw the tossing breeches-buoy
in which he was expected to make the pas-
sage to the rock, he held fast to the rail
of the ship. "Fm too fat," he explained.

THE GREAT BEDS UGHT STATION, RARITAN
BAY, NEW JERSEY— A SPECIMEN OF IRON-
CYLINDER CONSTRUCTION.

On his return to Astoria his friends made
so much fun of him that he declared he would
go to the rock if it killed him. He turned
as white as chalk when the buoy was strapped
around him, but he made the trip without
even wetting his feet. After that, however,
nothing would persuade him to venture again
in the perilous buoy,
and he died recently on
the rock after nearly
sixteen years of continu-
ous service there.

The builder of Race
Rock Light, in Long
Island Sound, was Mr.
F. Hopkinson Smith,
known as the author
of "Colonel Carter"
and ''Caleb West."
Here again the work of
construction was
fraught with extraordi-
nary difficulties and
dangers. The founda-
tion rock is just off
Fisher's Island Sound,
at a point where the
water rushes both ways,
according to the tide,
with great force. A
quantity of stone rip-
rap was thrown into
the swift water, where
it was arranged by
divers, and then covered
with a circular mass
of concrete, on which
a tower of solid granite
was constructed.

A stone-tower light-
house bears much the
same relation to an
iron-pile lighthouse that
a sturdy oak bears to
a willow twig. One
meets the fury of wind
and wave by stem re-
sistance, opposing force
to force ; the other conquers its difficulties
by avoiding them. The principles of con-
struction in the two are entirely different,
and the builder of the screw-pile or disk-pile
light is confronted by his own peculiar prob-
lems and dangers. For southern waters,
where there is no danger of moving ice-
packs, iron-pile lighthouses have been found
very useful, although the action of the salt
water on the iron piling necessitates frequent
repairs. More than eighty lights of this de-

200

THE SEA-BUILDERS,

scription dot the shoals of Florida and the
adjoining States. Some of the oldest ones
still remain in use in the North, notably the
one on Brandjrwine Shoal, in Delaware Bay,
but it has been found necessary to surround
them with strongly built ice-breakers.

BRILLIANT WAITING BATTLE
SOLDIER KEY.

FOUGHT ON

Two magnificent iron-pile lights are found
on Fowey Rocks and American Shoal, off
the coast of Florida, the first of which was
built with much difficulty. Fowey Reef lies
five miles from the low coral island of Sol-
dier Key. Northern storms, sweeping down

the Atlantic, brush in wild breakers over the
reef and out upon the little key, often bury-
ing it entirely under a torrent of water.
Even in calm weather the sea is rarely quiet
enough to make it safe for a vessel of any
size to approach the reef. The builders
erected a stout elevated wharf and store-
house on the key, and brought their men and
tools to await the opportunity to dart out
when the sea was at rest and begin the work
of marking the reef. Before shipment, the
lighthouse, which was built in the North,
was set up complete from foundation to pin-
nacle and thoroughly tested.

At length the workmen were able to stay
on the reef long enough to build a strong

SAVING THE CYUNDBR OP THE UGHTHOUSB AT SMITH POINT, CHESAPEAKE BAT, PROM BEING SWAMPED

IN A HIGH SEA.

When the baildere were towing the unwieldy cylinder oat to set it in position, the water became suddenly rough and
began to All It. Workmen, at the risk of their lives, boarded the cylinder, and by desperate labors succeeded in spreading
Bail canvas over it, and so saved a stmctare that had cost months of labor and thousands o' AnWmv

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THE SEA-BUILDERS.

201

WORK ON THE SMITH POINT UGHTHOUSE STOPPED BY A VIOLENT STORM.

Jast after the cylinder had been set in place, and while the workmen were harrying to stow sufficient ballast to secuxe
it against a heavy sea, a storm forced the attending steamer to draw away. One of the barges was almost OTertnmed, and a
lifeboat was driven against the cylinder and crashed to pieces.

working-platform twelve feet above the sur-
face of the water and set on iron-shod man-
grove piles. Having established this base
of operations in the enemy's domain, they
lowered a heavy iron disk to the reef, and
the first pile was driven through the hole at
its center. Elaborate tests were made after
each blow of the sledge, and the slightest
deviation from the vertical was promptly

rectified with block and tackle. In two
months' time, nine piles were driven ten feet
into the coral rock, the workmen toiling long
hours under a blistering sun. When the
time came to erect the superstructure, the
sea suddenly awakened, and storm followed
storm, so that for weeks together no one
dared venture out to the reef. The men
rusted and grumbled on the narrow docks of

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202

THE SEA-BUILDERS.

the key, and work was finally suspended for
an entire winter. At the very firat attempt
to make a landing in the spring, a tornado
drove the vessels far out of their course.
But a crew was finally placed on the work-
ing-platform, with enough food to last them
several weeks, and there they stayed, sus-
pended between the sea and the sky, until
the structure was complete. This light-
house cost $175,000.

BUILDING FIRMLY UNDER WATER ON SHIFTING
SANDS.

Another class of lighthouse, quite different
from either of those already described, con-
sists of a solid iron tower with a core of con-
crete. This is designed especially to mark
sandy shoals lying under some depths of
water, at a greater or less distance from
shore. It was less than twenty years ago
that sea-builders first ventured to grapple
with the difiiculties presented by these off-
shore shoals. In 1881, Germany built the
first cylinder iron lighthouse, at Rothersand,
near the mouth of the Weser River, and three
years later the Lighthouse Elstablishment of
the United States planted a similar tower on
Fourteen Foot Banks, over three miles from
the shores of Delaware Bay, in twenty feet
of water. Since then many dangerous shoals
have been marked by new lighthouses of
this tjrpe. A few years ago, W. H. Fla-
herty of New York built such a lighthouse
at Smith Point, in Chesapeake Bay. At the
mouth of the Potomac River the opposing
tides and currents have built up shoals of
sand extending eight or ten miles out into
the bay. Here the waves, sweeping in from
the open Atlantic, sometimes drown the side
lights of the big Boston steamers. The point
has a grim story of wrecks and loss of life ;
last year alone four sea craft were driven in
and swamped on the shoals. The Lighthouse
EiStablishment planned to set up the light
just at the edge of the channel, about eight
miles from shore and 120 miles south of
Baltimore. Eighty thousand dollars was ap-
propriated for doing the work. In August,
1896, the contractors formally agreed to
build the lighthouse for $56,000, and, more
than that, to have the lantern burning within
a single year.

By the last of September a huge, unwieldy
foundation caisson was framing in a Balti-
more shipyard. It was made in the form of
a bottomless box, thirty-two feet square and
twelve feet high, with the top nearly as thick
as a man is high, so that it would easily sus-

tain the weight of the great iron cylinder
soon to be placed upon it. It was lined and
caulked, painted inside and out, to make it
air tight and water tight. When finished, it
was dragged out into the bay, together with
half an acre of mud and dock timl^rs. Here
the workmen crowned it with the first two
courses of the iron cylinder — a collar thirty
feet in diameter and about twelve feet high.
Inside of this, a second cylinder, a steel air-
shaft, five feet in diameter, rose from a hole
in the centre of the caisson, thus providing
a means of entrance and exit when the struc-
ture should reach the shoal. Upon the addi-
tion of this vast weight of iron and steel, the
wooden caisson, although it weighed nearly
a hundred tons, disappeared completely under
the water, leaving in view only the great
black rim of the iron cylinder and the top
of the air-shaft.

On April 7th of the next year, the fleet
was ready to start on its voyage of conquest.
The whole country had contributed to the
expedition. Cleveland, Ohio, furnished the
iron plates for the tower ; Pittsburg sent
steel and machinery ; South Carolina supplied
the enormous yellow pine timbers for the
caisson ; Washington provided two great
barge loads of stone ; and New York City
contributed hundreds of tons of Portland
cement and sand and gravel.

Everything necessary to the completion of
the lighthouse and the maintenance of eighty-
eight men was loaded on boats ; and quite a
fleet they made as they lay out in the bay
in the warm spring sunshine. The flag-ship
was a big, double-deck steamer, 200 feet
over all, once used in the coast-wise trade.
She was loaded close down to her white
lines, and men lay over her rails in double
rows. She led the fleet down the bay, and
two tugs and seven barges followed in her
wake. The steamer towed the caisson at
the end of a long hawser. In three days the
fleet reached the lighthouse site.

During all of this time the sea had been
calm, with only occasional puffs of wind,
and the builders planned, somewhat exult-
antly, to drop the caisson the moment they
arrived. But before they were well in sight
of their destination the sea awakened sud-
denly, as if conscious of the planned surprise.
A storm blew up in the north, and at sunset
on the 10th of April, the waves were wash-
ing over the top of the iron cylinder and
slapping it about like a boy's raft. A few
tons of water inside the structure would sink
it entirely, and the builder would lose months
of work and thousands of dollarsr> From

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THE SEA-BUILDERS.

203

GREAT WAVES DASHED ENTIRELY OVER THEM, SO THAT THET HAD TO CLING FOR THEIR LIVES TO THE

AIR-PIPES."

Id erecting the Smith Point lighthoase, after the cylinder was set up, it had to be forced dovm fifteen and a half feet into
the sand. The lives of the men who did this, working in the caisson at the bottom of the sea, were absolutely in the hands of
the men who managed the engine and the air-compressor at the surface ; and twice these latter were entirely deluged by the
sea, but still maintained steam and kept everything running as if no sea was playing over them.

rude platform on top of the cylinder two
men were working at the pumps to keep the
water out. When the edge of the great
iron rim heaved up with the waves, they
pumped and shouted ; and when it went
down, they strangled and clung for their
lives.

The builder saw the necessity of immediate
assistance. Twelve men scrambled into a

lifeboat, and three ,waves later they were
dashed against the rim of the cylinder. Here
half of the number, clinging like cats to the
iron plates, spread out a sail canvas, and
drew it over the windward half of the cylin-
der, while the other men pulled it down with
their hands and teeth, and lashed it firmly
into place. In this way the cylinder shed
most of the wash, although the larger waves

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204

THE SEA-BUILDERS.

still scuttled down within its iron
Half of the crew were now hurried down the
rope ladders inside of the cylinder, where the
water was nearly three feet deep and swash-
ing about like a whirlpool. They all knew
that one more than ordinarily large wave
would send the whole structure to the bot-
tom ; but they dipped swiftly, and passed up
the water without a word.
It was nothing short of
a battle for life. They
must keep the water
down or drown like rats
in a hole. They began
work at sunset, and at
sunrise the next morning,
when the fury of the
storm was somewhat
abated, they were still
at work — and the cyl-
inder was saved.

The swells were now
too high to think of plant-
ing the caisson, and the
fleet ran into the mouth
of the Great Wicomico
River, to await a more
favorable opportunity.
Here the party lay for
a week. On April 17th,
the weather being calmer,
the fleet ventiired out
stealthily. A buoy marked
the spot where the light-
house was to stand. When
the cylinder was exactly
over the chosen site, the
valves of two of the com-
partments into which it
was divided were quickly
opened, and the water
poured in. The weight
of the water carried it
downward, and the
moment the lower edge
touched the shoal, the men began working
with feverish haste. Large stones were
rolled from the barges around the outside
of the caisson to prevent the water from
eating away the sand and tipping the struc-
ture, over. In the meantime a gang of
twenty men had taken their places in the
compartments of the cylinder that were still
unfilled with water. A shute from the
steamer vomited a steady stream of dusty
concrete down upon their heads. A pump
drenched them with an unceasing cataract
of salt water. In this terrible hole they

Crete mortar into place and ramming it down.
The whole crew, even the cooks and the
stokers, were called upon at this supreme
moment to take a hand in the work. Un-
less the structure could be sufficiently bal-
lasted while the water was calm, the
first wave would brush it over and pound
it to pieces on the shoals.

THE LIGHTHOUSE ON STANNARD ROCK,
LAKE SUPERIOR.

This is a stone-tower lighthouse, similar in
constniction to the one built with such dif-
ficulty on Spectacle Reef, Lake Huron.

WORK AND WORKMEN
NEARLY DESTROYED BY
A SUDDEN STORM.

After this exhausting
labor had continued nearly
two hours, the captain
of the steamer suddenly
shouted the command to
cast away. The sky had
turned black, and the
waves ran high. All of
the cranes were whipped
in, and up from the cyl-
inder poured the shovel-
lers, looking as if they
had been freshly rolled
in a mortar bed. There
was a confused babel of
voices and a wild flight
for the steamer. In the
midst of the excitement
one of the barges snapped
a hawser, and being now
lightened of its load, it
all but turned over in a
trough of the sea. The
m^n aboard her went
down on their faces,
clung fast, and shouted
for help, and it was only
with difficulty that they
were rescued. One of
the life-boats, venturing
too near the cylinder, was
crushed like an egg-shell,
but a tug was ready to pick up the men who
manned it. So terrified were the workmen
by the dangers and difficulties of the task,
that twelve of them ran away that night
without asking for their pay.

On the following morning, the builders
were appalled to see that the cylinder was in-
clined more than four feet from the perpen-
dicular. In spite of the stone piled around
the caisson, the water had washed the sand
£rom under one edge of it, and it had tipped
part way over. Now was the supreme crisis

little

m the whole enterprise. A little lack of
wallowed and struggled, shoveling the con- courage or skill, and the work was doomed.

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THE SEA-BUILDERS,

205

The waves still ran high, and the freshet
currents from the Potomac River poured
past the shoals at the rate of six or seven
miles an hour. But one of the tugs ran out
daringly, dragging a barge load of stone.
The barge was made fast, and although it
pitched so that every wave threatened to
swamp it, and every man aboard was sea-
sick, they managed to
throw off 200 tons
more of stone around
the base of the caisson
on the side toward
which it was inclined.
In this way further
tipping in that direc-
tion was prevented, and
the action of the water
on the sand under the
opposite side soon
righted the structure.
• Beginning on the
morning of April 21st,
the entire crew worked
for forty-eight hours
without sleeping, or
even stopping for meals
more than Steen min-
utes at a time. When
at last they were re-
lieved, they came up out
of the cylinder shout-
ing and cheering be-
cause the foundation
was at lasi secure.

The structure was
now about thirty feet
high, and was filled
nearly to the top with
concrete. The next
step was to force it
down fifteen and one-
half feet into the hard sand at the bottom
of the bay, thus securing it forever against
the power of the waves and the tide. An
air-lock, which is a strongly built steel cham-
ber about the size of a hogshead, was placed
on the top of the air-shaft, the water in the
big box-like caisson at the bottom of the
cylinder was forced out with compressed air,
and the men prepared to enter the caisson.

No toil can compare in its severity and
danger with that of a caisson-worker. He is
first sent into the air-Iock,and the air pressiire
is gradually increased around him until it
equals that of the caisson below ; then he
may descend. New men often shout and beg
pitifully to be liberated from the torture.
Frequently they bleed at the ears and nose,

POURTEEN-POOT BANK UGHT STATION, DELA-
WARE BAY, DELAWARE.

a terrible clutching comes at the throat, and
for a time their heads throb as if about to
burst open.

In a few minutes these pains pass away,
the workers crawl down the long ladder of
the air-shaft, and begin to dig away the sand
of the sea bottom. It is washed high around
the bottom of a four-inch pipe which leads
up the air-shaft and
reaches out over the
sea. A valve in the
pipe is opened, and the
sand and stones are
driven upward by the
compressed air of the
caisson and blown out
into the water with
tremendous force. As
the sand is mined away
the great tower above
it sinks slowly down-
ward. In prosecuting
the work the marine
toilers often grow sal-
low-faced, yellow-eyed,
become half deaf, and
lose all appetite.

ALMOST SMOTHERED TO
DEATH IN A CAISSON.

When the Smith Point
tower was within two
feet of being down
deep enough, the workr
men had a strange and
terrible adventure.
Thirty-five men were in
the caisson at the time.
They noticed that the
candles stuck along the
wall were burning a
lambent green. Black streaks, that widened
swiftly, formed along the white-painted
walls. One man after another began stag-
gering dizzily, with eyes blinded and a ter-
rible burning in the throat. Orders were
instantly given to ascend, and the crew
with the help of ropes succeeded in escap-
ing. All that night the men lay moaning
and sleepless in their bunks. In the morn-
ing only a few of them could open their
eyes, and they all experienced the keenest
torture in the presence of light.

That afternoon, Major E. H. Ruffner, of
Baltimore, the government inspector of the
district, appeared with two physicians. An
examination of the caisson showed that the
men had struck a vein of sulphureted hyr

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206

THE SEA-BUILDERS,

drogen gas. When the air-lock was opened,
the stench became almost unendurable even
at a steamer's length from the cylinder.

For three days the force lay idle. There
seemed no way of completing the founda-
tion. On the fourth day, after another flood-
ing of the caisson, Mr. Flaherty called for
volunteers to go down the air-shaft, agree-
ing to accompany them himself — all this in
the face of the spectacle of thirty-five men
moaning in their bunks, with their eyes
burning and blinded and their throats raw.
Fourteen men stepped forward, and offered
to "see the work through.**

Upon reaching the bottom of the tower,
they found that the flow of gas was less
rapid, and they worked with alniost frantic
energy, expecting every moment to feel the
gas griping in their throats. In half an hour
another shift came on, and before night the
lighthouse was down to within an inch or
two of its final resting-place.

The last shift was headed by an old cais-
son-man named GriflSn, who bore the record
of having stood seventy-five pounds of air
pressure in the famous Long Island gas tun-
nel. Just as the men were reader to leave
the caisson, the ^ suddenly burst up again,
with something of explosive violence. In-
stantly the workmen threw down their tools
and made a dash for the air-shaft. Here a
terrible struggle followed. Only one man
could go up the ladder at a time, and they
scrambled and fought, pulling down by main
force every man who succeeded in reaching
the rounds. A moment later they began to
stagger apart, blinded by gas, some of them
even striking at the solid walls of the cais-
son with their bare fists. Then one after
another they dropped in the sand uncon-
scious. A few of the stronger ones scram-
bled up the ladder.

Griffin, remaining below, had signaled for
a rope. When it came down, Ife groped for
the nearest workman, fastened it around his
body, and sent him aloft. Then he crawled
around and pulled the unconscious workmen
under the air-shaft. One by one he sent
them up. The last was a powerfully built
Irishman named Howard. GriflSn's eyes were
blinded, and he was so dizzy that he reeled
like a drunken man, biit he managed to get
the rope around Howard's body and start
him up. At the eighteen-inch door of the
lock the unconscious Irishman wedged fast,
and those outside could not pull him through.
GriflSn climbed painfully up the thirty feet
of ladder, and pushed and pulled until How-
ard's Ump body went through. Griflin tried

to follow him, but his numbed fingers slipped
on the steel rim and he slid backward into
the death-hole below. They dropped the
rope again, but there was no response. One
of the men called Griflin by name. The half-
conscious caisson-man aroused himself, and
managed to tie the rope under his arms.
Then he, too, was hoisted aloft, and when he
was dragged from the caisson, more dead
than alive, the half-blinded men on the
steamer's deck set up a shout of applause —
all the reward that he ever received.

Two of the men prostrated by the gas had
to go into a hospital, and were months re-
covering. Another went insane. GriflSn was
bund for six weeks. Four others came out
with the malady known as "bends," which
attacks those who work long under high air
pressure : the victim of it cannot straighten
his back, and often his legs and arms are
cramped and contorted.

Nor were the men who ran the engine and
air-compressor on the top of the cylinder ex-
empt from peril. Twice while the work was
in progress great waves dashed entirely over
them, so that they had to cling for their lives
to the air-pipes. These sudden inundations
of cold water also had the effect of cooling
the boiler and reducing steam, so that the air-
compressor barely moved. If the pressure
once failed entirely, the men below would
suffer instant death ; and the stokers and
engineman were compelled to make fire when
they could hardly keep their places on the
boiler platform.

Having sunk the caisson deep enough, the
workmen filled it full of concrete, and sealed
the top of the air-shaft. In the meantime a
storm had come up, and before the steamer
could free itself from its moorings, the waves
drove it bodily against the cylinder. Eight
of the heavy iron plates in the sixth course,
each of which was over an inch thick and
weighed a ton, were crushed in like so many
panes of window-glass. For three weeks, in
May and June, the men lay idle again, wait-
ing the coming of new plates. It seemed
impossible that the tower could be completed
within the year, but so thoroughly had the
builder prepared for emergencies, that within
twenty-f oiir days after the new plates were
in place, the light-keeper's quarters had been
completed, and the lantern was ready for
lighting. Three days within the contract
year the tower was formally turned over to
the Government. And thus the builders,
besides providing a warning to countless ves-
sels, had erected a lasting monument of their
own skill, courage, and perseverance.

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A TRAGEDY OF FRONTIER FORT LIFE.

By W. J. Carney.

A TRUE STORY FROM THE RECOLLECTIONS OF A PRIVATE IN THE

ARMY.

»3Hi^

ORTS on the plains, in most
cases, are not forts at all:
they are nothing but military
settlements. A four-com-
•pany fort, like Fort Sedg-
wick, is a pretty large set-
tlement, and it is out of the
question to so guard it as to
effectually prevent men from
going in and out at night.
It would require a chain
guard of not less than fifty men to challenge
all comers and goers.

New Year's Eve, 1866, was a night of
awful cold and storm. Looking back now,*
it seems to me that I never saw another so
frightful. The wind howled and roared, and
the sleet and snow that had been coming
down all afternoon beat heavier than ever.
All the guards had been taken off but No. 1,
at the guard-house. The men stood around
the big box-stoves in the barracks and talked
of the storm outside, congratulating them-
selves that they did not have to be out in it,
and expressing pity for any who were ex-
posed to its fury. It would not have seemed
possible that any man would brave that night
for a lesser purpose than to save life ; but,
nevertheless, two men went out after whisky.
Four members of Troop M— Sullivan, Cul-
len, Clarke, and Hooker — engaged in a game
of freeze-out, each man taking &Fty beans ; the
pair who first lost their beans were to pay
the debt by going to Meiggs's ranch with
the canteens. The ranch was up Pole Creek.
To reach it the Platte River had to be crossed,
and the trip must be made between taps and
reveille. The project was kept very secret.
Clarke and Hooker were older than the other
two, and accomplished poker-players ; Cullen
and Sullivan, who were mere boys, had no
chance to win. They lost, and then they
started on their trip for the whisky. No one
outside of the four who made up the original
party knew of their departure till the next
morning, when a guard, who had been sent
the night before to see why there was a light

after taps in the laundry, reported that he
had seen Cullen and Sullivan there with
Qarke and Hooker. Hooker and Qarke
were sent for and questioned. They were
frightened by this time, and though for
a while they denied all knowledge of the
missing men, they finally told how they had
left the fort and why.

A searching party was at once organized,
and mounted on the best horses in the com-
pany, for the storm was still raging. An-
other party, on foot, were set to search in and
about the fort. Cullen was soon found lying
close to a woodpile, one of a detail of men
that had been sent out after fire-wood acci-
dentally stumbling on the snow-covered body.
He had wrapped his head in his overcoat,
and there were three canteens of whislqr
strapped to his shoulders. He had a rooster
buttoned up under his overcoat, and the fowl
was frozen solid. He was carried into the
barracks, and it took heroic efforts to bring
him around. He could have survived in the
snow only a very short time longer. After
much thumping and pounding, we got him
aroused enough to tell what he knew of Sulli-
van, which was not much — only that Sullivan
had left the ranch with him and they had soon
lost each other. He was taken to the hospital,
where examination disclosed that he was ter-
ribly frozen. When the surgeon got through
with him, about a week later, he was a sight
to behold. Both ears and one hand were cut
off, and only one finger and the thumb were
left on the other hand, while the left side of
his face looked as if it had been badly burned,
and his mouth was drawn to one side.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, the party
sent to Meiggs's ranch, in the hope that Sulli-
van might have gotten back there, returned
with no tidings. The storm was now, if any-
thing, worse than ever. I got orders to sad-
dle up and report to Sergeant Hall. With
him I found Private Fenton, and we received
orders to go down the South Platte as far as
the old town of Julesburg. It was only four
miles below the fort, but we were a full

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BETWEEN THE TWO RANKS CLARKE WAS MADE TO WALK — WALK, NOT RUN — AND AS HE PASSED, EACH
MAN . . . GAVE HIM A SMART LASH WITH A SURCINGLE.**

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A TRAGEDY OF FRONTIER FORT LIFE.

209

hour forcing our horses through the snow
and the storm those four miles. Sullivan
had not been heard of in Julesburg. On our
way back, Fenton was lost in a way I shall
presently describe, and search parties were
out looking for both men until midnight, but
neither was found. Two days later, the body
of Sullivan was discovered about half a mile
below the old ford and near the middle of
the river. He was lying in a snowdrift,
three canteens of whisky with him, his knees
drawn close up to his chin, his mouth wide
open and full of solid ice. His eyes were
full of ice, and a ball of ice was grasped in
each hand.

There was a great deal of feeling shown
against Clarke and Hooker by both officers
and men. Hooker soon deserted, and when,
a little later, Garke was caught stealing, he
was tried by drum-head court-martial and
condemned to be ** surcingled*' out of the
service. The company was formed in two
ranks, each rank facing the other and the
two standing about six feet apart. Between
the two ranks Clarke was made to walk —
walk, not run — and as he passed, each man
in the lines gave him a smart lash with a sur-
cingle. He was then given five days' rations,
and escorted out of the fort with strict or-
ders not to return or worse punishment would
be given him. He could go in any direction
he chose; but at this time nearly all the
ranches along the overland stage route had
been abandoned, and the nearest towns were
Platte City, 110 miles south, and Denver,
150 miles north. Meiggs's ranch, twelve
miles away, was the nearest habitation, for
old Julesburg was deserted. The weather
was so cold that one day's exposure was dan-
gerous. So Clarke's punishment was not
light.

Now as to Fenton : On our way back from
Julesburg it became plain that Fenton had
run across some whisky. He was a good
soldier when not drinking, and he did not
drink often, but a little liquor turned his
head. Now he was flighty, and was sparring
and fighting his horse, as young cavalrymen
almost always do when a little tipsy. Ser-
geant Hall spoke sharply to him, and told
him to let his horse alone. Fenton rode over

to me, and told me to say nothing about it,
but he was going to run a buffalo into the
fort. I tried to reason with him and keep
him quiet. He and I had enlisted on the
same day, and I had always had a great deal
of influence over him, but now he seemed
utterly beside himself. Soon he put spurs
to his horse, and disappeared in the direction
of the bluffs. He did not have to go far to
disappear, for one could not see mounted
men fifty yards away. We followed him a
short distance, but as his tracks could be
found only by one of us dismounting, and as
they soon seemed to lead toward the fort,
the sergeant ordered me to remount, and we
made our way back to the fort.

I went to the stables and took care of my
horse. As I came out I met a half-witted
fellow named Pete Myers, leading Fenton's
horse. When I questioned him, he said that
Fenton was up at the barracks. I went there
and to Fenton's bunk, but did not find him,
and could find no one who had seen him.
I again saw the man who had caught the
horse, and he then said that« the horse had
come running in from the south side of the
fort without a rider, but he had supposed
that Fenton was about. I felt sure now that
Fenton was still on the prairie, and I so re-
ported at once to the lieutenant. Nearly all
the men in the fort now turned out, and, as
I said before, we kept up a search till mid-
night; but no trace of Fenton was found
then, nor during all that winter.

The next summer, on an occasion when
some men were out exercising horses, one
of them lost control of the horses in his
charge, and they ran up a ravine. Two or
three men were sent after them, and about
half-way up the ravine they came on a hu-
man skeleton. The bones were cl^an, and,
strange as it may seem, undisturbed by any
wild animal. Some scraps of blue uniform
still clung to them, and in a fob-pocket of the
trousers was found part of a letter, wrapped
around a badly worn two-dollar bill . The let-
ter was falling to pieces, but here and there
something could be read. The company clerk
made out the words, ** Your loving mother ; "
and then, though the first part of the signa-
ture was gone, the name ** Fenton."

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THE OUTSIDER.

By Rudyard Kipung,

Author of ''The Day's Work," "The Jangle Book," *' Stalky & Co.," etc.

A STORY OF THE BOER WAR, WRITTEN FROM THE FIELD.

From Stormberg's midnight moantain,

From Sanna's captured post,
Where Afric's Magersfontein

Rails down her wounded host,
Three days and nights to su'thard,

Twixt lyUrban Road and Paarl—
In dust and horse dung smothered —

There lies a Cursed Kraal.

5 BOUT the time that Gentleman
Cadet Walter Setton was
posted to the Second Battal-
ion of Her Majesty's Royal
Rutlandshire Regiment, the
Vicar, his father, read a tele-
gram that the Pretoria
Government was searching
the mines of the Rand for
hidden arms. The Vicar and
his wife were profoundly un-
impressea. They were on their way to the
Army and Navy Stores to buy Walter's many
uniforms ; and the Vicar doubted that he
would escape for less than £200.

" But we cannot repine," said his wife.
" Walter's position demands — " she ceased
for a breath. " And as an oflScer — you see,
William ? We have much to be thankful
for."

The Vicar lowered the paper, remembering
how an accident of a legacy had saved
Walter from horrid fates. He and his wife
had agreed to forget a certain terrible after-
noon when Walter, aged sixteen, had been
examined viva voce by an unsympathetic
person, sent down by a friend, with a view
to getting him a ** position in the city " at
something under eighteen shillings a week.
He had forgotten, too, how he and his wife
were grateful for this chance. A week later,
when the Vicar's aunt was gathered to her
sisters, and the money was sure, they wrote
a letter, declining that post for Walter,
which letter remains as a curiosity in a busi-
ness man's desk to this day.

"Yes," said the Vicar, " as you say, my

dear, we have much to be thankful for. As
an officer—" he turned down the paper.

Had he read ten lines further he would
have learned that ''much amusement has
been caused in mining circles owing to the
activity of the police, who are searching
Thumper's Deep, on information supplied by
Mr. J. Thrupp, who asserted that 2,000 stand
of arms had been buried at the bottom of
the shaft."

At the hour the Vicar was speculating in
" tunics richly laced, lined silk, £6 14«. 1&^." ;
" undress trousers, blue doe or twill, £1 16«.
Orf." ; " forage caps (badge extra) £1 0«.
6d."; and all the other grim realities of war,
Jerry Thrupp, in charge of the thirty odd
thousand pounds of modem machinery on
Thumper's Deep, was cheering a batch of
perspiring Johannesburg police to break out
the bottom of South Mrica. Business was
slack in Johannesburg by reason of a raid,
and Jerry's ten years on the Rand had taught
him that the police were least dangerous
when most busy. Two thousand rifles in a
concrete vault, ten feet below the solid foot
of the shaft, would be a great haul for the
Boers. That they were working in the living
rock was to them a detail. The Devil had
given these Uitlanders powers denied to sons
of the soil ; and no community in their senses
would start a revolution on less than 20,000
rifles. A scant 1,500 only had, so far, come
to light.

" Where you think we shall find them ? "
a panting Hollander asked.

** About the Marquesas Islands if you hold
your line straight," said Jerry, and shot up

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RUDYARD KIPLING.

211

in the cage. Three minutes later he tele-
phoned that the winding-gear was out of
order and would take half a day to repair.

" They had a very nice time," he explained
to his professional friends. "They dug
nearly four feet into the bottom of the shaft
before they sickened, and Patsy Gee burned
about a hundredweight of his precious Revo-
lutionary Committee's papers in my boiler
fires while they were down below. But as
a revolution, if you ask me, if s bumblepuppy.
After this, we're goin* to have war."

" Not a bit of it," said Hagan of the Con-
solidated Ophir and Bonanza. "We shall
be passed over to Com Paul to play witl).
Robinson hasn't been to see the prisoners yet
— and if I know him he won't go."

"Never mind," said Jerry. "It's war.
Soon or late, it's war."

Time, Circumstance, and Necessity con-
tinued in charge of this world, of Jerry
Thrupp and Second-Lieutenant Walter Setton.
To the former they brought from eight to
twelve hours' work a day — shifting, varjring,
but insistent. Sometimes a batch of 324
stamps in the Thumper's Deep crushing-mills
would go wrong, and Jerry must doctor them
ere the output suffered. Sometimes a sick
friend in charge of the cyanide process would
call Jerry in to watch the health of the big
vats thafa^win the last of the gold ; or a
furlong or two of tram-line would need re-
laying. His winding-engines, his boilers,
his crushing-tables, his djmamos, and the
hundred things that men needed below the
surface were always with him. For recrea-
tion Jerry consorted with fellow-engineers
of the Rand, their wives, and their children ;
and, being energetic, found opportunities for
what he called ' overtime." When Hagan's
ankle was crushed, thanks to a Kafir's care-
lessness, Jerry carried him home, and be-
cause Hagan's ten-year-old son was in hos-
pital with typhoid, Jerry, as a matter of
course, visited and reported on the boy daily.
He lent the Vincents the money that took
them home in the terrible year '98, when
Johannesburg lost heart and business shut
down, and Vincent was turned out into Com-
missioner Street with Mrs. Vincent seven
months gone. It is even said that by bribes
and threats he kept the conservancy people
up to their work in his street when the
typhoid that comes from neglected filth
struck down three heads of families in 200
yards.

" After the war," Jerry would say as ex-
cusing himself, " it will be all right. We've
got to do what we can till after the war."

The life of Second-Lieutenant Walter Set-
ton followed its appointed channel. His bat-
talion, nominally efficient, was actually a
training-school for recruits, and to this lie,
written, acted, and spoken many times a
day, he adjusted himself. When he could by
any means escape from the limited amount
of toil expected by the Government, he did
so, employing the same shameless excuses
that he had used at school or Sandhurst.
He knew his drills ; he honestly believed that
they covered the whole art of war. He knew
the "internal economy of his regiment."
That is to say, he could answer leading ques-
tions about coal and wood allowances, cubic
footage of barrack accommodation, canteen
routine, and the men's messing arrangements.
For the rest, he devoted himself with no
thought of wrong to getting as much as pos-
sible out of the richest and easiest life the
world has yet made ; and to despising the
" outsider" — the man beyond his circle. His
training to this end was as complete as that
of his brethren. He did it blandly, politely,
unconsciously, with perfect sincerity. As a
child he had learned early to despise his
nurse, for she was a servant and a woman ;
his sisters he had looked down upon, and his
governess, for much the same reasons. His
home atmosphere had taught him to despise
the terrible thing called " dissent." At his
private school his seniors showed him how to
despise the junior master, who was poor, and
here his home training served again. At his
public school he despised the new boy — the
boy who boated when Setton played cricket,
or who wore a colored tie when the order of
the day was for black. They were all avatars
of the "outsider." If you "got mixed up
with an outsider" you ended by being "com-
promised." He had no clear ideas of what
that meant, but suspected the worst. His
religion he took from his parents, and it had
some very sound dogmas about outsiders be-
having decently. Science to him was a name
connected with examination papers. He
could not work up any interest in foreign
armies because, after all, a foreigner was
a foreigner and the rankest form of "out-
sider." Meals came when you rang for them ;
you were carried about the world, which is
the home counties, in vehicles for which you
paid. You were moved about London by
the same means ; and if you crossed the
Channel you took a steamer. But how, or
when, or why these things were made,
or worked, or begotten, or what they felt or
thought or said who belonged to them, he
had not, nor ever wished to have, the

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212

THE OUTSIDER,

shadow of an idea. His lack of imagination
was equaled only by his stupendous lack of
curiosity. It was sufficient for him and for
high Heaven (this in his heart of hearts, well
learned at his mother's knee) that he was an
officer and a gentleman incapable of a lie or
a mean action. For the rest, his code was
simple. Money bought you half the things
in this world ; and your position secured you
the others. If you h»i money, you took
care to get your money's worth. If you had
a position, you did not compromise yourself
by mixing with outsiders.

And in the fullness of time one old gentle-
man, who knew his own mind, knocked the
bottom out of Lieutenant Setton's and Jerry
Thrupp's world. Jerry came first, unwill-
ingly with a few thousand others, by way of
Koomatipoort. He helped the women and
children out of Johannesburg — the few that
remained ; and left his house barricaded in
charge of a Hollander official. " Remember,"
said Jerry, " I advise you to look after this
house. If anything happens to it you won't
be happy when I come back."

** We shall chase you into the sea at lyUr-
ban," said the Hollander.

"Shouldn't wonder— seeing how behind-
hand we are ; but then we'll chase you back
again. S'long, you four-colored impostor.
I hope you won't blow yourselves up before
you're shot."

He climbed into a cattle-truck, where his
valise was stolen, and arrived at Delagoa
Bay, his shirt torn to the waist in a scuffle
to get water for a sick man. His home, his
business, and all his belongings were gone ;
but the war that men had doubted was upon
them at last, and Jerry was happy. He
went round to Capetown on the deck of
a crowded steamer, and disappeared into
thronged and panic-stricken Adderley Street.
Here he met Phil Tenbroek, ex-mine man-
ager, also ruined for the time being, and
conferred with him about raising a corps
of Railway Volunteers in event of future
trouble.

Lieutenant Setton, 7,000 miles away, was
scornful when he heard that BuUer would
not undertake the war with less than 70,000
troops. Thirty thousand, he held, was more
than enough, for the Rutlandshire's mess
would remember that the army was not
what it had been in '81. It had now learned
to shoot ; Setton did not say where or how.
He wished very much to see how the Boers
would look after a cavalry brigade had boxed
their ears across ten miles of open country.
Except twice, near Salisbury, he had never

seen anything that remotely resembled ten
miles of open country in all his life. He had
never seen a cavalry brigade ; nor, indeed, a
target at a greater distance than 900 yards.
Having spoken, he went up to town to see a
play, pending the absorption of the Trans-
vaal.

The Rutlandshires landed at Capetown
fairly late in the war, and, serene as hundreds
who had gone before him. Lieutenant Setton,
dining at the Mount Nelson, gave, in the fine,
clear voice he had inherited from his mother,
his opinion that "those colonials looked a
most awful set of outsiders." He hoped,
aloud, that it would not be his fate "to
have to work with these bounders."

In another place, at another time, an in-
formal after-dinner court of inquiry with
unlimited powers sat on his irreproachable
regiment after this fashion :

" Are those Rutlandshires any use ?" The
questioner had good right to ask.

" Mark Two, / think. If s the same old
brand — Badajos, Talavera, Inkermann, Tou-
louse, Tel-el-Kebir ^"

" Same tactics as those which were so bril-
liantly successful at Tel-el-Kebir," a spade-
bearded officer whispered as though he were
quoting scripture.

" Ye-es. Same old catch-words — same old
training. 'Shoulder to shoulder-r-up boys
and at 'em.' Southsea, Chichester, Canter-
bury ; with the Long Valley for a campaign.
Colonel past his work ; second in command
devoutly hoping never to see a soldier again
when he's got Ms pension ; a jewel of an ad-
jutant who's mothered his men till they can't
button their own breeches ; sergeant-major
greaf on eye-wash and a bit of a lawyer.
The rest, the regular idiots — all in a blue
funk of funking. They want a chance to
' get in with the bayonet,' of course."

"That's the last refuge of the lazy man,"
said a quiet-faced civilian who had not yet
spoken.

"Oh, theyHl learn in time," the spade-
bearded officer grunted.

" When half the men are in Pretoria and
half the rest are wounded — if thafs what
you mean? Fm so sick of that ' in time.' The
colonel will die — I wish he was dead now —
'fighting heroically' in some dam-fool trap
he's walked into with his eyes open !"

" Well, Vm going to split 'em up. They
were promised they should go in — ah —
shoulder to shoulder, but the hospitals are
quite full enough."

To their immense rage the Rutlandshires
were rent into four or five pieces and dis-

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RUDYARD KIPLING.

213

tributed where they could not do much harm.
The colonel, exactly as was prophesied, died
heroically, shot through the stomach at the
head of four companies to whom he was ex-
plaining the cowsurdice of advancing in open
order when the enemy were yet a mile dis-
tant. This fixed in the second's mind the
fact that a Mauser can carry 2,000 yards —
wisdom which he did not live long to profit
by. He went down at 1,100 before an in-
significant crack in the veldt which hap-
pened to be lined with Boers. Thus his
successor discovered that a donga is better
flanked than fronted. TVuly they learned.

To Lieutenant Setton, by the death of a
captain, fell the charge of two companies,
which operated with an Australian contin-
gent on a distiirbed and dusty border. The
men clung to him for a week expecting mir-
acles ; but he could not smite water from
rocks, nor vary the daily beef-tin and four
dry biscuits. They learned a little rude
well-sinking from their allies, and a little
stealing on their own account. After tWs,
to his relief, they abandoned him as nurse
and midwife. Had he played the game with
an eye to the rules, he might have profited
as much as his more open-minded fellow-
officers, but his demon tempted him one clear
twilight to capture a solitary horseman in
difficulties with a spent horse. It was not
"sporting" to pot him at 800 yards, so Set-
ton took horse and rode a somewhat uncer-
tain wallop directly at the man, who natur-
ally retreated between two steep hills where,
for just this end, he had posted four confed-
erates. They, being children of nature and
buck hunters to boot, allowed their quarry
to pass, and after twenty rounds at 400
yards — the Boer in a hurry is not a good
shot^dropped him with a broken arm. Set-
ton was not pleased, but the five Australians
who, without orders, so soon as they saw
what he would be at, had galloped parallel
with him behind the kopjes, were immensely
gratified. They dismounted, lay down, and
slew the Boer on the tired horse as he re-
turned to join his fellow-plunderers, of whom
they shot two and wounded one. They
reached camp with Setton and— much more
valuable loot — three efficient Boer ponies.

" If you'd only told us you were goin' to
commit suicide this way," said a Queensland
trooper, " we'd have rounded up the whole
mob — usin' you for bait."

The shattered arm ended Setton's career
as a coimbatant officer, but, in the great
scarcity of sounder material, they made him
station commander of the peculiarly desolate

siding of Pipkameeleepompfontein, which, as
every one knows :

'' Is on the road to Bloemf ontein ;

And there the Mansers

Tear your trousers,
And make yoar horses jompfontein."

But the tide of war had rolled back, leaving
only a mass of worrying work for the Rail-
way Pioneer Corps that Phil Tenbroek had
organized from the wreck of the mine per-
sornid months before. Three short, low
bridges, little larger than culverts, but two
of them built on a curve, crossed three dry,
shallow watercourses, and of course the
Boers blew them up on departure. Phil,
commandant of the Railway Pioneers, busy
on Folly Bridge, could only spare thirty men
to the job, but he gave Hagan, late in charge
of the machinery of the Consolidated Ophir
and Bonanza, with rank of lieutenant, his
choice, and Hagan took the cream. They
lumbered into Pipkameeleepompfontein in
open trucks — thirty men, each anxious to re-
turn to the Rand ; each holding more or less
of property there ; most of them skilled
mechanicians in their own department, and
all exalted— body, soul, and spirit— by a ran-
corous, razor-edged, personal hatred of the
State that had shamed, tricked, and ruined
them. They found there a station command-
ant moved by none of their springs— a being
from another planet, fenced about with neatly
piled boxes of rivets and a mass of crated iron-
work that was pouring up from the south —
who proposed to camp them a mile from the
broken bridges.

" What, no water ?" said Hagan.

'^Oh, no. But I expect a detachment of
Regulars shortly. They must have the near
camp."

** Good Lord, man ! your blessed regulars
can't get forward tiU we've mended the
bridges. We must be close to our work."

"I'm afraid your knowledge of the British
army is a little limited," said the station
commandant.

" I was fool enough to cross a ridge after
one of the Regulars had reported it cleared,"
said Hagan sweetly. " 'Twasn't any fault of
theirs my knowledge didn't last till the day of
judgment. But look here, this isn't a ques-
tion of precedence. We don't want to stay
here. We want to mend the bridges and get
up to the Rand again."

After a while, but ungraciously, Setton

gave way, and the Railway Pioneers went to

work like beavers. The Regulars arrived

" to protect the bridge-head," two companies

-^—-^ " — O^^

214

THE OUTSIDER.

of them, fresh from home, and Setton, with
unspeakable delight, found himself once more
among men who talked his limited tongue
and spoke his more limited thoughts. As he
wrote to his mother, " You can get as good
hunting talk here as you can at home." The
Pioneers were not a seemly corps. They un-
stacked the accurately piled rivet boxes and
dumped them where they could be easiest
handled ; they dismantled an abandoned
farm-house to get at the roof-beams because
they were short of poles ; they stuck a home-
made furnace at the far end of the platform,
where it made itself a black, unlovely bed of
cinders ; they worked at all hours of the day
and night, ate when they had leisure, and
called their officers by their lesser names.
Hagan asked Setton — only once — what ar-
rangements he had made for Kafir labor.
Setton had made none, for he had no instruc-
tions. Whereupon Hagan, talking in an un-
known tongue, made his own arrangements,
and strange niggers crept out of the dry
Karroo by scores. Setton wished to know
something about them. ** It's all right," said
Hagan over his shoulder ; " Fm responsible.
It's cheaper for us " (he meant the Consoli-
dated Ophir and Bonanza) " to pay out of
our pocket than to wait for the Government
to fiddle throiigh it. / want to get back to
the Rand."

That last sentence always annoyed Setton.
These voluble Johannesburg gypsies made it
their dawn song, their noon chorus, and their
midnight chant. It swung girders into place,
sent home rivets, and spiked rails. It echoed
among the hills at twilight, when the start-
lingly visible night picket of the Regulars
went out to relieve its fellows, cut in black
paper against the green sky-line, on the tall-
est kopje. It greeted every truck of new
material, this drawling, nasal " / want to go
back to the Rand."

It helped to build the bridges, though
that Setton did not notice. He did not know
a spike from a chair, a girder from an ar-
tesian pump, a thirty-foot metal from a tie-
rod. The things lumbered up the siding,
which he wished to keep neat. Men took
them out of the trucks and did things to
them or with them, and the bridges, some-
how or other, spanned the watercourses.
But Lieutenant Setton would no more have
dreamed of taking interest in the manner of
their fitment than at school he would have
read five lines beyond the day's appointed
construe.

When the last of the three bridges was
nearly finished, Hagan dashed into his office

with a wire from Phil, who wanted him back
at once. The big center girder of FoUy
Bridge was going up, and only Hagan could
take charge of that end of it which was not
under Phil's comprehending eye.

" But the men here know exactly whaf s
to be done. If anything goes wrong, ask
Jerry — I mean Private Thrupp. He ought
to begin riveting up to-morrow, and after
that they've only got to lay the track. It's
as easy as falling off a log."

Setton did not approve of this unbuttoned
man with the rampant voice. Had indeed —
but Hagan was too busy to notice it — with-
drawn markedly from his society. Nor did
Setton comprehend how a private could be
in charge of anything — least of all when a
Regular officer — not to mention a Station
Commandant — was on the horizon. He as-
sumed that Hagan would have told the
senior non-com. of the Pioneers to come to
him for orders for the day; but Hagan,
eating, sleeping, and thinking bridges only,
had not communicated with Sergeant Rayne —
late accountant of Thumper's Deep, and pro-
moted because Government had insisted that
the corps should keep books. Hagan had
spent his last hours at an informal commit-
tee-meeting with Jerry and another private,
Pulsom, ex-head of the Little North Bear's
machinery — and under the lee of a Karroo-
bush, drawing diagrams in the dirt, had
settled every last detail of the bridge that
was to help the corps back to their own
Rand.

Brightly and briskly, then, in the dia-
mond-clear dawn uprose Lieutenant Walter
Setton to command the station of Pipkamee-
leepompfontein. But early as it was, the
Pioneers were before him. The situation
when he arrived at the bank of the third
watercourse was briefiy this : They were
lowering, with hand-made derricks, two f oiir-
teen-foot girders, one from either bank, to
meet in the middle, where Jerry and Fulsom
stood, ready to join them. The twenty-eight-
foot girder, which should have covered the
span, had been sent round to Nauwport by
mistake ; and Jerry believed devoutly that
the Cape Minister of Railways, whom he
habitually alluded to as " the worst rebel, but
one, of the lot," had made the delay on piir-
pose. The mischief of it was that, expect-
ing the twenty-eight-foot iron, they had
used up the last of their wood sleepers to
lay a sharp curve just before the bridge
where iron sleepers were different to bed
and adjust. Consequently, they had no tem-
porary crib of sleepers in the middle of the

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RUDYARD KIPLING.

216

watercourse to take the weight of the
two fourteen-foot irons when these were
lowered. So Jerry had extemporized a stage
of rivet-boxes and laths, sufficient to bear
his weight and Pulsom's, and knowing his
men, trusted to rivet up the butt-strap tem-
porarily at any rate, while the men on the
derricks held the girders, lowering them or
raising them fractionally at his signal. It
was unorthodox engineering, but it would
carry the line. By four in the morning the
heels of the girders were neatly butted
against their permanent resting places, and
their noses began to dip towards the meet-
ing in the center.

"North girder!" Jerry raised his hand
and lowered it slowly.

The obedient gang at the derrick slacked
away with immense care. They were not
watching Private Thrupp, but Jerry of
ThumpePs Deep, and Fulsom of the Little
North Bear — both mighty men.

** Ready with the rivets now ! Here she
comes! Hold her1 Hold her! As you
are ! Not another hairbreadth. South
girder raise a shade. Half the fraction of
a hair ! " He laid a spirit-level across the
half-inch gap between the two girders, and
cocked his head on one side. Nobody
breathed, except Lieutenant Setton, who had
walked some distance in a hurry. He ob-
served that a bucket of blazing coals — stolen
of course — was slung under the belly of
either " iron thing." He always thought of
concrete objects beyond his experience as
" things." Four men passed up two flat iron
things — the specially designed butt-straps —
one to Jerry and one to Fulsom, who faced
him on the other side of the girders. So
close was the adjustment that the weight of
the straps, as they were slid between the
flanges of the girder, made the south one—
held by ropes, not chains — dip a fraction,
and Jerry swore as only a Rand mechanist
on twelve hundred a year and a bonus has a
right to swear — emphatically and authorita-
tively.

" What are you doing there, men ?" The
voice passed Jerry like the summer wind. One
hand was on the spirit-level, the other held
a riveting-hammer ; one eye squinted at
the bubble in the glass, the other, red with
emotion, glared through the holes in the
butt-strap waiting till the expansion of the
heated girders should bring the rivet-holes
in line. Astronomers watching for an
eclipse gaze not so earnestly as did Jerry
and Fulsom.

"I say, what are you men doing there

without orders?" cried Lieutenant Setton
for the second time.

"Hsh ! " said. Jerry, wagging the hammer
to command silence. He was half aware
now of some disturbing presence. The f oxir
holes covered each other absolutely.

*' Rivets to me ! Quick, McGinnis. Meet
me, Fulsom." A man passed up the pincers
with the red-hot rivet, and Jerry hammered
like an artist. " That'll make old — " he men-
tioned the Cape Minister of Railways by
name — "pretty sick ! Thought he'd hang us
up by sending our stuff round by Nauwport,
did he ? Hope to goodness his brother puts
a bullet into him when he comes down.
Hold on ! Rivet, rivet, McGinnis ! What's
the good of you ? Derricks there ! Hold
071 / What are you men doing ! Oh, good
Lord!"

If Jerry on the rivet-boxes was losing his
temper. Lieutenant Setton had lost his alto-
gether.

" You thought ! " he shouted to the amazed
gang. " You thought ! Who in the world
told you to think ? I^you suppose you're
here to do what you please ? / gave no or-
ders for the work to go on. Your orders, if
you'd thought to come to my office to get
them, are to clean up some of the filthy me?8
you've made round the Station."

Then to Sergeant Rayne. " Fall in your
men at once, and march them up to the Sta-
tion. You'll get your orders there."

"But half a mo— Sir. Half a minute,
Sir. We can't let go *'

" Do you refuse your duty, then ? I warn
you it'll be the worse for you. You can't do
this — you can't do that ? Let go that rope-
thing at once. It's mutiny, by God ! "

They let go, at the south end. They fell
back, not knowing the limits of Imperial
power. The unsupported girder bit heavily
on the single soft rivet that Jerry and Ful-
som had put in — and shore through. The
north gang let go an instant later. A howl
of rage came out of the ravine as both
girders dropped into a dolorous broken-
backed V, knocking over the light staging,
and, twisting as they fell, scattered the fire
in the buckets among the dry scrub and
fragments of timbering in the bed of the
watercourse. They lit at once, and blazed
merrily. A man with a hammer erupted.

" Who slacked the ropes without orders ? "
he demanded in a voice no private should
use. One or two men had heard it before —
at the time of the big dynamite explosion in
Johannesburg, and straightened up.

"Fall in with your company there and

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216

THE OUTSIDER.

don't talk,'' said Lieutenant Setton. He was
willing to concede much to a mere volunteer
— even in time of war.

"It was him, Jerry," whispered Sergeant
Rayne.

Jerry turned a full mulberry color as he
strove to control himself — he was quivering
all over. Then he grew pale and rigid.

" Ha — half a minute, please. I want to'ex-
plain to you exactly how the work stands.
The girders were just in position, and I was
riveting them up — my name is Thrupp "

It carried some weight on the Rand, but
Lieutenant Setton almost laughed aloud.

"If you wouldn't mind listening to me,
please. It was an absolutely vital matter —
absolutely vital. We were actually riveting
the butt-strap when you meddled with the
derrick. Let me show you ! " — he laid one
shaking hand on the lieutenant's cuff<— to
lead him to the wreck.

" Meddle with the derrick ! What the
devil do you mean by your insolence ? Do
you know who I am ?"

"In half an hour— in five minutes — we
could have put in enough rivets to hold her.
We shall have to go to work again. It means
half a day's delay, though, even if the gird-
ers are not twisted by the fall. . . . You can
see it hung on only one rivet "

"Fall in with your company — for the last
time!"

" But you don't understand — you don't un-
derstand. Let me explain a minute, and come
here" — again the hand on the cuff. "Of
course you don't realize what you've done.
It was only a question of minutes — minutes,
do you see ? — ^bef ore we should have had
those two girders— those short irons down
there — riveted up. Good Lord! That scrub's
burning like tinder — ^we must shovel earth
on it or it will twist the girders out of shape,
and" — the voice rose almost to a shriek —
"we shall have to send down the line for
duplicates. I — ^you — tell the men to chuck
earth on that blaze, for God's sake. The
girders will buckle. They'll be ruined."

" March this man up to the guard-tent,"
said Lieutenant Setton, who had endured
enough. It was the insolence and insubordi-
nation of the man that galled him. " Another
time, perhaps, youll take the trouble to obey
orders."

"What for? What have I done? My
dear chap, this isn't the time to fiddle about
with guard-tents. The whole donga's alight,
and we shall have those girders buckling in
ten minutes. You can't be going to leave
the mess as it is— you can't."

"Oh, I've stood enough of this. Silence !
Understand you're a prisoner."

"Me! Oh, yes ; I'm anything you please,
if youll only let me put out that fire. Where
the deuce do you think I'd want to run to ?
Ill come up to the guard-tent the minute
it's out. I give you my word of honor."

By this time the Railway Pioneer Corps
was in two minds — some laughing and others
looking very black. Only Sergeant Rayne,
busy with a pocket-book, seemed to take no
interest in the matter.

" March me off ? With that fire burning ?
We'll be delayed a week at least ? Why —
why — why — " again Jerry turned plum-
color. Fidsom and McGinnis, who knew his
habits, closed in on him at once.

" Come on, Jerry," . whispered Pulsom.
"You've done all you can ; come on."

"All I can? What do I matter? I'm
thinking about the bridge." He walked in
a sort of stupor, looking back from time to
time to watch the smoke in the donga. The
Railway Pioneer Corps followed slowly to
assist in sweeping up Pipkameeleepomp-
fontein.

"Rayne has got down every word you
said in shorthand," said Fulsom when the
prisoner reached the guard-tent. " And he's
going to wire to Hagan now. For God's
sake don't open your mouth, Jerry, and we'll
got that young idiot Stellenbosched in a day
or two."

"Hung up for a week — hung up for a
week," moaned Jerry. "Am I mad, or is
he ? Tell Rayne to wire for spare girders.
God knows where they are to come from !
Perhaps Phillip 'II have a couple at Folly
Bridge. Better wire there as well. Those
two will have buckled by now."

"And you say he refused your orders?"
This was Hagan, dirty and drawn after a
journey in a draughty cattle-truck, standing
at the foot of Setton's cot in dawn-light.

" He was extremely insolent, if that's what
you mean. He deliberately questioned my
authority before all the men several times.
He kept pawing me all over, too. I don't
suppose he really meant half he said."

'^Didn't he?" Hagan gulped, but curbed
himself.

"The trouble with you volunteers," said
Setton, rising on one arm, " is that you've
absolutely no notion of military discipline,
and on active service one can't allow that
sort of thing. However, I think forty-eight
hours in the guard-tent will teach him a little
sense. Fve no intention of carrying the
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AN AVERTED TRAGEDY,

217

matter any farther, so we needn't discuss
it."

Hagan stared at him with a horror that
carried something of admiration, and a little
— ^not much — pity. He had come up with
Colonel Palling, R. E., and shown him the
third bridge.

"Is this his tent ?" one cried without, and
there entered a colonel of Her Majesty's
Royal Engineers, not in a common regimental
rage, but such a cold fury as an overworked
man responsible for a few score miles of
track in war time may justly wear. He
chewed his three-month-old beard, and looked
at Lieutenant Setton, who stood to attention.

" You will go," he whispered at last, "you
will go back to the base by the seven-thirty
train this morning. You will give this note
to the General there."

"Yes, sir."

" Do you know why you go ?"

"No, sir."

The Colonel's neck veins swelled. " I —
I wish to speak to this officer," he said.

It is the first maxim of internal economy
that you should never reprimand a superior
in the presence of his equal or his subordi-
nate. Hagan withdrew. The camp sentry
a few yards away stood fast. He was a
reserve man of some experience.

" Gawd 'as been 'eavenly good to me," he
said later to fifteen comrades. " I've 'eard
quite a few things in my time. Tve 'eard
Duke 'imself pass the time o' day to an 'orse
battery that turned up on the wrong flank in

the Long Valley. Tve 'eard a Brigadier on
Salisbury Plain rope's endin' a Volunteer
aide-de-cong 'oo couldn't ride, an' asked
questions. I 'eard 'Smutty' Chambers lyin'
be'ind an ant-'ill at Modder gettin' sunstroke.

I've 'eard what General said when the

cavalry was too late at Stinkersdrif t. But
all that was *Let me kiss 'im for 'is mother*
to wot I 'eard this momin'. The' wasn't any
common damn-your-eyes routine to it. Pall-
ing, 'e just felt about with 'is fingers till
'e'd found that little beggar's immortal soul,
— 'e did. An' then 'e blew 'is nose on it like a
bloomin' 'andkerchief an' then "'e threw it
away. Swore at 'im ? No. You chaps don't
follow me. It was chronic. That's what it
was — ^just chronic !"

In the peaceful and loyal district of Stel-
lenbosch there is a subaltern temporarily at-
tached as supernumerary on the Accounte
side of the Numdah and Girth-lace Issue
Department who knows exactly how the
Army ought to be reorganized. "It's all
very well to talk about makin' the Army a
business like those newspaper chaps do, but
they don't understand the spirit of the Ser-
vice. How can they ? Well, don't you see,
if they bring in those so-called reforms that
they're always talkin' about, they simply fill
up the Service with a lot of bounders and
outsiders. They simply won't get the class
of men to join that the Army really wants.
No one will take up the Service then. I
know / shan't, for one."

AN AVERTED TRAGEDY.

By Gertrude Norton.

RS. GRUGGET sat on the back
porch stringing beans. Her
hands and thin, shallow face
were wrinkled and brown.
Now and then she would pause
in her work and stretch her
arms languidly in the air.

" I reckon it's about time to take an-
other dose of that ager medicine, ain't it,
Sim?" she said.

Her husband nodded. He had just re-
turned from the field, and was cleaning an
old gun.

"(Join' to hunt squirrels, Sim?" she
asked, glancing toward the gun.

'*Noap," replied Sim; '*goin' to kill
Bob Grunnel."

'* He's come back, then?"

"Yes; bin back sense yisterday. Seed
him plowin' over in the field as I went ter
feed the shotes."

Mrs. Grugget let her hands fall helplessly
into her lap, and sat looking out across the
field.

"Has it got to be done?" she. asked
timidly.

" This very day," replied Sim.

"I've bin a-dreadin' it," said his wife.
Her han(Js shook as she went on with her
work. ^ I

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218

AN AVERTED TRAGEDY.

**Ort ter done it long ago," declared
Sim, '' but the ole cuss has bin a-kinder
hidin' out. He knows that the Gruggets
come uv the stock that kills."

'* CouldnH you put it off, Sim ? It's ray
chill day, an' "

** It's got ter be did terday. I reckon it
will be ole Bob Grunnel's chill day when he
sees me a-comin'."

He threw his gun over his shoulder, and
went out across the field. Mrs. Grugget
sat watching him, her hands shaking as she
fumbled with the beans in her lap.

Sim crossed the field, climbed over the
fence, and stood before his enemy. ** I
have come ter kill ye, Bob," he said, let-
ting his gun rest in the hollow of his arm.

** I have bin expectin' it," said Bob.

He leaned upon the handles of the plow,
and wiped the sweat from his brow. The
two stood facing each other.

'' Why don't ye shoot ? " asked Bob.

Sim made a swift gesture of impatient
anger.

'*Mebby the Grunnels shoot unarmed
men," he said, " but that ain't the Grug-
gets' way. Git yer gun."

*' I reckon I'll haf ter go ter the house
an' git it," remarked Bob.

'' All right. I'll wait fer ye."

Sim bent down and began to pull some
weeds from the com row.

** Yer corn's powerful foul," ho said.

'* Got it in late," nodded Bob.

He drew a twist of '* long green " from
his pocket and bit off a liberal chew.

** I raised this on the new ground down
by the garden patch," he remarked, as he
held the piece of tobacco to Sim. '* Have
a chaw?"

** I don't mind. I reckon I'll jist plow a
round fer ye while ye're gone after yer
gun."

** All right. I won't be gone long."

By the time Sim had plowed a round Bob
had returned with his gun.

**The thing is rusty, an' won't work,"
he said, "so I brought the screw-driver
along, 'lowing I might fix it."

He began to take off the lock.

'*I reckon I'd as well plow another
round," said Sim.

When Sim returned, he found Bob sitting
in the shade of the big elm in the comer of
the fence, vainly endeavoring to mend the
msty lock.

'*I never was much at fixin' things,"
Bob confessed.

**Let me see it," broke in Sim. '*I

never seed the thing I couldn't fix if it could
be fixed."

He took the gun and began to examine it.

" It 'pears ter me that I've seed this ole
gun before," he said, turning it over in his
hands.

** Ye have. It's the one yer ole dad gave
me more 'an forty years ago."

** Yes — it's the same gun, by Joe. Had
most forgot all about it. It was the time
my dad's house was burnt that he gave it
ter ye," said Sim.

" About that time," nodded Bob. '* We
had bin ter ole Peter Snook's ter a com
shuckin'."

"So we had. We were both boys then.
Dad was down with the rheumatiz, an' I
'low he'd 'a' got burnt up if ye hadn't 'a' got
him out. That's how yer come ter bum yer
hand."

" I reckon it was awkwardness that made
me git my hand in the fire," said Bob, with
a dry laugh. ** It's Jcinder drawed on the
back, but it don't bother me much."

He thrust the scarred and drawn member
out of sight, and fell to looking fixedly at
the gun. ** I guess 'tain't no use ter fix the
ole gun," he said, "fer I reckon yer dad
didn't give it ter me ter shoot yer with."

Sim stood looking at the ground.

" If thar's any shootin* ter be done," Bob
went on, " take yer gun an' do it. It
won't be cheatin' ole Bob Gmnnel out uv
many days, anyhow."

He folded bis arms, and stood leaning
against the tree.

" Bob," said Sim, lifting his eyes to the
other's face, " I am an ole fool. I reckon
I ain't fit ter touch yer hand, but if yer can
forgive the biggest scoundrel in Newton
County "

He extended his hand as he spoke, and
stood with averted gaze.

" It hurts me ter have ye talk that way,
Sim," said Bob, grasping the extended hand.

" No— the other hand, Bob — the burnt
one — that. Thank God, an ole fool can
some time come ter his senses long enough
ter know that he's a fool."

Mrs. Gmgget was standing on the porch
when Sim returned, carrying a basket of
red June apples.

"Bob Gmnnel sent ye these," he said.
" Stir around an' meek some apple dumplin's
fer dinner."

She took the basket and went into the
kitchen, the glad tears mnning down her
wrinkled face.

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T was four o'clock in the
afternoon, and the hottest
hour of the day on that Sier-
ran foothill. The Western
sun, streaming down the mile-long slope of
close-set pine crests, had been caught on an
outlying ledge of glaring white quartz, cov-
ered with mining tools and debris, and seemed
to have been thrown into an incandescent
rage . The air above it shimmered and became
visible. A white canvas tent on it was an ob-
ject not to be borne ; the steel-tipped picks
and shovels, intolerable to touch and eyesight,
and a tilted tin prospecting-pan, falling over,
flashed out as another sun of insufferable ef-
fulgence . At such moments the five members
of the " Eureka Mining Company" prudently
withdrew to the nearest pine tree, which cast
a shadow so sharply defined on the glistening
sand that the impingement of a hand or
finger beyond that line cut like a knife. The
men lay, or squatted, in this shadow, fever-
ishly puffing their pipes and waiting for the
sun to slip beyond the burning ledge. Yet
so irritating was the dry air, fragrant with
the aroma of the heated pines, that occa-
sionally one would start up and walk about
until he had brought on that profuse per-
spiration which gave a momentary relief,
and, as he believed, saved him from sun-

MINES.

stroke. Suddenly a voice exclaimed
querulously :

*' Derned if the blasted bucket ain*t empty
agin! Not a drop left, by Jimminy ! "

A stare of helpless disgust was exchanged
by the momentarily uplifted heads; then
every man laid down again, as if trying to
erase himself. "Who brought thejast?''
demanded the foreman.

*'/ did," said a reflective voice, coming
from a partner lying comfortably on his
back, ** and if anybody reckons Pm going to
face Tophet agin down that slope, he's mis-
taken!" The speaker was thirsty — but he
had principles.

" We must throw round for it," said the
foreman, taking the dice from his pocket.
He cast — the lowest number fell to Park-
hurst, a florid, full-blooded Texan. *'A11
ngbt, gentlemen," he said, wiping his fore-
head, and lifting the tin pail with a resigned
air, " only ef anything comes to me on that
bare stretch o' stage road— and Pm kinder
seeing things spotty and black now — remem-
ber you ain't anywhar' nearer the water than
you were. I ain't sayin' it for myself— but
it mout be rough on you — and "

''Give me the pail," interrupted a tall
young fellow, rising. ** Pll risk it."

Cries of '* Good old Ned! " ,and '' Huq

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220

A JACK AND JILL OF THE SIERRAS,

boy ! " greeted him as he took the pail from
the perspiring Parkhurst, who at once laid
down again. ** You mayn't be a professin'
Christian, in good standin', Ned Bray," con-
tinued Parkhurst from the ground, '* but
you're about as white as they make *em,
and you're goin' to do a heavenly act ! I
repeat it, gents, — a heavenly act! "

Without a reply Bray walked off with the
pail, stopping only in the underbrush to
pluck a few soft fronds of fern, part of
which he put within the crown of his hat,
and stuck the rest in its band around the
outer brim, making a parasol-like shade
above his shoulders. Thus equipped he
passed through the outer fringe of pines to
a rocky trail which began to descend toward
the stage road. Here he was in the full
glare of the sun, and its reflection from the
heated rocks, which scorched his feet and
pricked his bent face into a rash. The de-
scent was steep and necessarily slow from
the slipperiness of the dessicated pine nee-
dles that had fallen from above. Nor were
his troubles over when, a few rods further,
he came upon the stage road, which here
swept in a sharp curve round the flank of
the mountain. Its red dust, ground by heavy
wagons and pack-trains into a fine powder,
was nevertheless so heavy with some metal-
lic substance that it scarcely lifted with the
foot, and he was obliged to literally wade
through it. Yet there were 200 yards of
this road to be passed before he could reach
that point of its bank where a narrow and
precipitous trail dropped diagonally from it,
to creep along the mountain side to the
spring ne was seeking. When he reached
the trail, he paused to take breath and wipe
the blinding beads of sweat from his eyes
before he cautiously swung himself over the
bank into it. A single misstep here would
have sent him headlong to the tops of pine
trees a thousand feet below. Holding his
pail in one hand, with the other he steadied
himself by clutching the ferns and brambles
at his side, and at last reached the spring —
a niche in the mountain side with a ledge
scarcely four feet wide. He had merely
accomplished the ordinary g3minastic feat
performed by the members of the Eureka
Company four or five times a day. But the
day was exceptionally hot. He held his
wrists to cool their throbbing pulses in the
clear, cold stream that gurgled into its rocky
basin ; he threw the water over his head and
shoulders, he swung his legs over the ledge
and let the overflow fall on his dusty shoes
and ankles. Gentle and delicious rigors came

over him. He sat with half-closed eyes look-
ing across the dark olive depths of the canon
between him and the opposite mountain. A
hawk was swinging lazily above it — appar-
ently within a stone's throw of him ; he knew
it was at least a mile away. Thirty feet
above him ran the stage road ; he could hear
quite distinctly the slow thud of hoofs, the
dull jar of harness, and the labored creak-
ing of the Pioneer coach as it crawled up
the long ascent, part of which he had just
passed. He thought of it — a slow drifting
cloud of dust and heat, as he had often seen
it, abandoned by even its passengers, who
sought shelter in the wayside pines as they
toiled behind it to the summit — and hugged
himself in the grateful shadows of the spring.
It had passed out of hearing and thought,
he had turned to fill his pail, when he was
startled by a shower of dust and gravel from
the road above. And the next moment he
was thrown violently down, blinded and
pinned against the ledge, by the fall of some
heavy body on his back and shoulders. His
last flash of consciousness was that he had
been struck by a sack of flour slipped from
the pack of some passing mule.

How long he remained unconscious he
never knew. It was probably not long, for
his chilled hands and arms, thrust by the
blow on his shoulders into the pool of water,
assisted in restoring him. He came to with
a sense of suffocating pressure on his back,
but his head and shoulders were swathed in
utter darkness by the folds of some soft fab-
rics and draperies, which, to his connecting
consciousness, seemed as if the contents of
a broken bale or trunk had also fallen from
the pack. With a tremendous effort he suc-
ceeded in getting his arm out of the pool,
and attempted to free his head from its
blinding enwrappings. In doing so his hand
suddenly touched human flesh— a soft bared
arm ! With the same astounding discovery
came one more terrible — that arm belonged
to the weight that was pressing him down,
and now, assisted by his struggles, it was
slowly slipping toward the brink of the ledge
and the abyss below ! With a desperate ef-
fort he turned on his side, caught the body
— for a body it was — dragged it back on the
ledge, at the same moment that, freeing his
head from its covering — a feminine skirt —
he discovered it was a woman !

She had been also unconscious, although
the touch of his cold, wet hand on her skin
had probably given her a shock that was now
showing itself in a convulsive shudder of her
shoulders and a half opening ol>her eyes.

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BRET HARTE.

221

Suddenly she began to stare at him, to draw back against the mountain side. ** Yes,"
in her knees and feet toward her, sideways, she half murmured to herself, rather than
with a feminine movement, as she smoothed to him, " it must be so. I was walking too
out her skirt, and kept it down with a hand near the bank — and — I fell! *' Then, turn-
on which she leant. She was a tall, hand- ing to him, she said, ** And you found me
some girl, from what he could judge of her lying here when you came ? "
half -sitting figure in her torn silk dust cloak, '* I think," stammered Bray, '* that I was
which, although its cape and one sleeve were here when you fell, and I — I broke the fall."
split into ribbons, had still protected her He was sorry for it a moment afterward.

'the five members of the 'eureka mining company' prudently withdrew to the nearest
pine tree . . . waiting for the sun to slip beyond the burning ledge."

delicate, well-fitting gown beneath. She
was evidently a lady.

*' What— is it ?— what has happened ? "
she said f amtly, yet with a slight touch of
formality in her manncjr.

** You must have fallen — from the road
above," said Bray, hesitatingly.

** From the road above ? " she repeated,
with a slight frown, as if to concentrate her
thought. She glanced upward, then at the
ledge before her, and then, for the first
time, at the darkening abyss below. The
color, which had begun to return, suddenly
left her face here, and she drew instinctively

She lifted her handsome gray eyes to him,
saw the dust, dirt, and leaves on his back
and shdlilders, the collar of his shirt torn
open, and a few spots of blood from a
bruise on his forehead. Her black eyebrows
straightened again as she said coldly, ** Dear
me! I am very sorry; I couldn't help it,
you know. I hope you are not otherwise
hurt?"

*' No," he said quickly. " But you — are
you sure you are not injured ? It must have
been a terrible shock."

'* I'm not hurt," she said, helping herself
to her feet by the aid of the mountain-side

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A JACK AND JILL OF THE SIERRAS.

bushes, and ignoring his proffered hand.
** But/' she added quickly and impressively,
glancing upward toward the stage road over-
head, ** why don't they come ? They must
have missed me. I must have been here a
long time. It's too bad."

** They missed you?" he repeated diffi-
dently.

** Yes," she said impatiently, ** of course!
I wasn't alone. Don't you understand ? I
got out of the coach to walk uphill on the
bank under the trees. It was so hot and
stuffy. My foot must have slipped up there
— and —I — slid — down. Have you heard
any one calling me ? Have you called out
yourself?"

Mr. Bray did not like to say he had only
just recovered consciousness. He smiled
vaguely and foolishly. But on turning
around in her impatience she caught sight
of the chasm again, and lapsed quite white
against the mountain side.

** Let me give you some water from the
spring," he said eagerly, as she sank again
to a sitting posture; *' it will refresh you."
He looked hesitatingly around him; he had
neither cup nor flask, but he filled the pail
and held it with great dexterity to her lips.
She drank a little, extracted a lace handker-
chief from some hidden pocket, dipped its
point in the water and wiped her face deli-
cately, after a certain feline fashion. Then,
catching sight of some small object in the
fork of a bush above her, she quickly pounced
upon it, and with a switt sweep of her hand
under her skirt, put on her fallen slipper^ and
stood on her feet again. *' How does one
get out of such a place ?" she said fret-
fully, and then, glancing at him half indig-
nantly : *' Why don't you shout ? "

'* I was going to tell you," he said, gen-
tly, ** that when you are a little stronger we
can get out by the way I came in — along the
trail." He pointed to the narrow pathway
along the perilous incline. Somehow with
this tall, beautiful creature beside him it
looked more perilous than before. She may
have thought so, too, for she drew in her
breath sharply, and sank down again.

** Is there no other way ? "

'*None!"

** How did you happen to be here ? " she
asked, suddenly, opening her gray eyes upon
him. * * What did you come here for ? " she
went on, almost impertinently.

** To fetch a pail of water." He stopped,
and then it suddenly occurred to him that,
after all, there was no reason for his being
bullied by this tall, good-looking girl, even

"A SINGLE MISSTEP HERE WOULD HAVE SENT HIM
HEADLONG TO THE TOPS OP PINE TREES A THOUSAND
FEET BELOW."

if he had saved her. He gave a little laugh,
and added, mischievously: ** Just like Jack
and Jill, you know."

'* What ? " she said sharply, bending her
black brows at him.

*' Jack and Jill," he returned carelessly.
** I broke my crown, you know, and you — "
he did not finish.

She stared at him, trying to keep her face
and her composure, but a smile, that on her
imperious lips he thought perfectly adorable,
here lifted the corners of her mouth, and
she turned her face aside. But the smile
and the line of dazzling little teeth it re-
vealed were unfortunately on the side to-
ward him. Emboldened by this he went on :
** I couldn't think what had happened. At
first I had a sort of idea that part of a mule's
pack had fallen on top of me— blankets,
flour, and all that sort of thing, you know,
until "

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BRET HARTE.

223

Her smile had vanished. **Well/' she
said impatiently, ** until ? "

** Until I touched you. Vm afraid I gave
you a shock; my hand was dripping from
the spring."

She colored so quickly that he knew she
must have been conscious at the time, and
he noticed now that the sleeve of her frock,
which had been half torn off her arm, was
pinned together over it. When and how
had she managed to do it without his de-
tecting the act ?

**At all events," she said coldly, **rm
glad you have not received greater injury
from — your mule
pack."

" I think we've both
been very lucky," he
said simply.

She did not reply,
but remained looking
furtively at the narrow
trail. Then she lis-
tened. ** I thought I
heard voices," she
said, half rising.

''Shall I shout?"
he asked.

''No!" she said
quickly. " You say
there's no use —
there's only this way
out of it!"

" I might go up
first, and perhaps get
assistance — a rope or
chair?" he sug-
gested.

" And leave me here
alone?" she said, with
a horrified glance at
the abyss. "No,
thank you. I should
be over that ledge be-
fore you came back.
There's a dreadful
fascinatfon in it even
now. No ; I think I'd
rather go — at once !
I never shall be
stronger as long as I
stay near it. I may
be weaker." She
gave a petulant little
shiver, and then,
though paler and
evidently agitated,
composed her tattered " he sat
and dusty outer

garments in a deft, ladylike way, and
leaned back against the mountain side. He
saw her also glance at his loosened shirt
front ; and at his hanging neckerchief, and
with a heightened color he quickly reknotted
it around his throat. They moved from the
ledge toward the trail. Suddenly she started
back.

" But it's only wide enough for cnve — and
I never — never — could even stand on it a min-
ute alone!" she said earnestly.

He looked at her critically. " We will
go together, side by side," he said quietly;
" but you will have to take the outside."

. LOOKING ACROSS THE DARK OLIVE DEPTHS OF THE CANON
BETWEEN HIM AND THE OPPOSITE MOUNTAIN."^ _

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"Google

"THET both struggled to their feet . . . THE SAME THOUGHT IN THE MINDS OP BOTH."

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BRET HARTE,

225

** Outside ! " she repeated, recoiling, ** im-
possible, I shall fall/'

** I shallkeep hold of you," he said
gravely. *' You need not fear that. Stop!
ril mak^ it safer.'' He untied the large
bandana silk handkerchief which he wore
around his shoulders, knotted one end of it
firmly to his belt, and handed her the other.
*' Do you think you can hold on to that ? "

'* I— don't know," she hesitated. *' If
I should fall?"

* * Stay a moment. Is your belt strong ? ' '
He pointed to a girdle of yellow leather
which caught her tunic around her small
waist.

'* Yes," she said eagerly, *' it's real
leather."

He gently slipped the edge of the hand-
kerchief under it, and knotted it. They
were thus linked together by a foot of
handkerchief.

'' I feel much safer," she said, with a
faint smile.

" But if / should fall," he said, looking
into her eyes, *'you would go too. Have
you thought of that ? "

*' Yes." Her previous charming smile
returned. ** It would be really Jack and
Jill this time," she said.

They passed out on the trail. *^ Now I
must take your arm," he said, laugliingly,
** not you mine.^^ >Tp passed his arm under
hers, holding it finaly. It was the one he
had touched. For the first few stops her
uncertain feet took no hold of the sloping
mountain side, which seemed to slip side-
ways beneath her. He was literally carry-
ing her on his shoulder. But in a few mo-
ments she saw how cleverly he balanced
himself, always leaning toward the hillside,
and presently she was able to help him by a
few steps. She expressed her surprise at
his skill.

" It's nothing," he said quietly ; '* I carry
a pail of water up here without spilling a
drop."

She stiffened slightly under this remark,
and indeed so far overdid her attempt to
walk without his aid that her foot slipped
on a stone, and she fell outward toward
the abyss. But in an instant his arm was
transferred from her elbow to her waist,
and in the momentum of his quick recovery
they both landed panting against the moun-
tain side.

•* I'm afraid you'd have spilt the pail that
time," she said with a slightly heightened
color, as she disengaged herself gently from
his arm.

** No," he said boldly, '* for the pail never
would have stiffened itself in a tiff and tried
to go alone."

COURSE not— if it were
only a pail," she re-
sponded.

They moved on
again in silence. The
trail was growing a
little steeper toward
the upper end and
the road bank. Bray was often himself
obliged to SAek the friendly aid of a man-
zanita or thorn bush to support them. Sud-
denly she stopped and caught his arm.
'* There! " she said, ** listen! They're com-
ing!"

Bray listened ; he could hear at intervals a
far-off shout. Then a nearer one— a name —
' * Eugenia . " So that was hers !

*' Shall I shout back ? " he asked.

** Not yet," she said. '* Are we near the
top?"

A sudden glow of pleasure came over him ;
he kne\7 not v/hy, except that she did not look
delighted, excited, nor oven relieved. **Only
a few yards more," he said, with an unaf-
fected half-sigh.

** Then I'd better untie this," she said
gently, beginning 'to fumble at the knot of
the handkerchief which linked them to-
gether. Their heads were close together,
their fingers often met; he would liked to
have said somethir/y — but he could only add :
** Are you sure you will feel quite safe ? It
is a little stcoper as we near the bank."

** You can hold me," she said simply, with
a superbly unconscious lifting of her arm,
as she yielded her waist to him again, but
without raising her eyes.

He did, holding her rather tightly, I fear,
as they clambered up the' remaining slope,
for it seemed to him as a last embrace. As
he lifted her on the road bank the shouts
came nearer, and glancing up he saw two
men and a woman running down the hill to-
ward them. He turned to Eugenia. In that
instant she had slipped the tattered dust
coat from her shoulder, thrown it over her
torn sleeve, set her hat straight, and was
calmly await ^':ig them with a self-possession
and coolness that seemed to shame their ex-
citement. He noticed, too, with the quick
perception of unimportant things which comes
to some natures at such moments, that she
had plucked a sprig of wild myrtle from the
mountain side and was wearing it on her

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A JACK AND JILL OF THE SIERRAS.

and

*' Good Heavens, Genie! What has hap-
pened ? Where have you been ? "

** Eugenia, this is perfect madness! " be-
gan the elder man didactically. ** You have
alarmed us beyond measure — kept the stage
waiting— and now it is gone! *'

** Genie! Look here, I say! We've been
hunting for you everywhere. What's up ? "
said the younger man, with brotherly brusque-
ness.

As these questions were all uttered in the
same breath, Eu-
genia replied to
them collectively.
** It was so hot that
I kept along the bank
here, while you were
on the other side. I
heard the trickle of
water somewhere
down there, and
searching for it my
foot slipped. This
gentleman" — she
indicated Bray —
** was on a little sort of a trail there,
assisted me back to the road again."

The two men and the woman turned and
stared at Bray with a look of curiosity that
changed quickly into a half-contemptuous
unconcern. They saw a youngish sort of
man, with a long mustache, a two days'
growth of beard, a not overclean face, that
was further streaked with red on the temple,
a torn flannel shift, that showed a very white
shoulder beside a sunburnt throat and neck,
and soiled white trousers stuck into muddy
high boots — in fact, the picture of a broken-
down miner. But their unconcern was as
speedily changed again into resentment at
the perfect ease and equality with which he
regarded them — a regard the more exas-
perating as it was not without a suspicion
of his perception 'of some satire or humor
in the situation.

'* Ahem! Very much obliged, I am sure.
I~er "

" The lady has thanked me," interrupted
Bray, with a smile.

** Did you fall far?" said the younger
man to Eugenia, ignoring Bray.

"Not far," she answered, with a half-
appealing look at Bray.

** Only a few feet," added Bray, with
prompt mendacity ; ** just a little slip down."

The three newcomers here turned away,
and surrounding Eugenia conversed in an
undertone. Quite conscious that he was the
subject of discussion, he lingered only in

the hope of catching a patting glance from
Eugenia. The words ** You do it," *'No,
yoM," **It would come better from her,^*
were distinctly audible to him. To his sur-
prise, however, she suddenly broke through
them, and advancing to him, with a danger-
ous brightness in her beautiful eyes, held oat
her slim hand. " My father, Mr. Neworth;
my brother, Harry Neworth ; and my aunt,
Mrs. Dobbs," she said, indicating each one
with a graceful inclination of her handsome
head, "all think I
ought to give you
something and send
you away. I believe
that is the way they
put it. / think dif-
ferently. I come to
ask you to let me
once more thank you
for your good ser-
vice to me to-day,
which I shall never
forget." When he
had returned her
firm hand-clasp for a minute, she coolly re-
joined the discomfited group.

" She's no sardine," said Bray to himself
emphatically, " but I suspect she'll catch it
from her folks for this. I ought to have
gone away at once, like a gentleman, hang
it!" He was even angrily debating with
himself whether he ought not follow her to
protect hpr from her gesticulating relations
as they all trailed up the hill with her, when
he reflected that it would only make matters
worse. And with it came the dreadful re-
flection that as yet he had not brought the
water to his expecting and thirsty comrades.
He had forgotten them for these lazy, snob-
bish, purse-proud San Franciscans, for Bray
had the miner's supreme contempt for the
moneyed trading classes. What would the
boys think of him? He flung himself over
the bank, and hastened recklessly down the
trail to the spring. But here again he lin-
gered— the place had become suddenly hal-
lowed. How deserted it looked without her !
He gazed eagerly around on the ledge for
any trace that she had left— a bow, a bit of
ribbon, or even a hairpin that had fallen
from her. As he slowly filled the pail he
caught sight of his own reflection in the
spring. It certainly was not that of an
Adonis. He laughed honestly ; his sense of
humor had saved him from many an extrava-
gance, and mitigated many a disappointment
before this. Well, she was a plucky, hand-
some girl, even if she was not^^r him and

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A JACK AND JILL OF THE SIERRAS.

227

he might never set eyes on her again. Yet
it was a hard pull up that trail once more,
carrying an insensible pail of water in the
hand that had once sustained a lovely girl.
He remembered her reply to his badinage,
** Of course not — if it were only a pail," and
found a dozen pretty interpretations of it.
Yet he was not in love. No. He was too
poor and too level-headed for that. And he
was unaffectedly and materially tired, too,
when he reached the road again and rested,
leaving the spring and its little idyl behind.

By this time the sun had left the burning
ledge of the Eureka Company, and the stage
road was also in shadow, so that his return
through its heavy dust was less difficult.
And when he at last reached the camp, he
found to his relief that his prolonged absence
had been overlooked by his thirsty compan-
ions in a larger excitement and disappoint-
ment, for it appeared that a well-known San
Francisco capitalist, whom the foreman had
persuaded to visit their claim with a view to
advance and investment, had actually come
over from Red Dog for that purpose, and
had got as far as the Summit when he was
stopped by an accident, and delayed so long
that he was obliged to go on to Sacramento
without making his visit and examination.

''That was only his excuse — mere flap-
doodle!" interrupted the pessimistic Jer-
rold. '' He was foolin' you. He'd heard
of su'then better. The idea of calling that
affair an * accident,' or one that would stop
any man who meant business! "

Bray had become uneasily conscious.
**What was the accident?" he asked.

** A fool woman's accident," broke in
the misogynist Parkhurst, **and it's true!
That's what makes it so cussed mean. For
there's alius a woman at the bottom of such
things — bet your life ! Think of 'em coming
here. Thar ought to be a law agin it."

** But what was it ? " persisted Bray, be-
coming more apprehensive.

^HY, what does that blasted
fool of a capitalist do but
bring with him his daughter
and auntie to ' see the won-
derful scenery with popa
dear'! As if it was a
cheap Sunday-school pano-
rama! And what do these chuckle-headed
women do but get off the coach and go to
wanderin' about, and playin' * here we go
round the mulberry bush,' until one of 'em
tumbles down a ravine. And then there's
a great to-do, and * dear popa ' was up and

down the road yellin', 'Me cheyld! me
cheyld ! ' And then there was camphor and
sal volatile and eau de cologne to be got,
and the coach goes oflf, and * popa dear '
gets left, and then has to hurry off in a
buggy to catch it. And so we get left
too, just because that old fool, Neworth,
brings his women here."

Under this recital poor Bray sat as com-
pletely crushed as when the fair daughter of
Neworth had descended upon his shoulders
at the spring. He saw it all. His was the
fault. It was his delay and dalliance with her
that had checked Neworth's visit. .

Worse than that, it was his subsequent
audacity and her defense of him that would
probably prevent any renewal of the nego-
tiations. He had shipwrecked his partners'
prospects in his absurd vanity and pride!
He did not dare to raise his eyes to their de-
jected faces.

He would have confessed everything to
them, but the same feeling of delicacy to her
which had determined him to keep her ad-
ventures to himself now forever sealed his
lips. How might they not misconstrue his
conduct — and hers ! Perhaps something of
this was visible in his face.

" Come, old man," said the cheerful mis-
ogynist, with perfect innocence, "don't
t^e it so hard. Some time in a man's life
a woman's sure to get the drop on him, as
I said afore, and this yer woman's got the
drop on five of us. But — hallo, Ned, old
man, what's the matter with your head ? "
He laid his hand gently on the matted tem-
ple of his younger partner.

" I had — a slip — on the trail," he stam-
mered. " Had to go back again for another
pailful. That's what delayed me, you know,
boys," he added quickly. "But it's noth-
ing."

"Nothing!" ejaculated Parkhurst, clap-
ping him on the back and twisting him around
by the shoulders so that he faced his com-
panions. " Nothing! Look at him, gentle-
men; and he says it's 'nothing.' That's
how a man takes it. He didn't go round
yellin' and wringing his hands, and sayin',
* Me pay-1 ! me pay-1 ! ' when it spilt. He
just humped himself and trotted back for
another. And yet every drop of water in
that overset bucket meant hard work and
hard sweat, and was as precious as gold."

Luckily for Bray, whose mingled emotions
under Parkhurst's eloquence were beginning
to be hysterical, the foreman interrupted.

" Well, boys, it's time we got to work
again and took another heave at the old

228

A JACK AND JILL OF THE SIERRAS.

ledge. But now that this job of Neworth's
is over, I don't mind tellin' ye suthin'.*'
As their leader usually spoke but little, and
to the point, the four men gathered around
him. ** Although I engineered this affair
and got it up, somehow I never saw that
Neworth standing on this ledge. No, boys,
I never saw him here.** ' The look of super-
stition which Bray and the others had often
seen on this old miner's face, and which so
often showed itself in his acts, was there.
**And though I wanted him to come, and
allowed to have him come, Pm kinder re-
lieved that he didn't ; and so let whatso-
ever luck's in the air come to us, five alone
boys, just as we stand."

The next morning Bray was up before his
companions, and although it was not his turn,
offered to bring water from the spring. He was
not in love with Eugenia — he had not forgot-
ten his remorse of the previous day — but he
would like to go there once more before he re-
lentlessly wiped out her image from his mind.
And he had heard that, although Neworth had
gone on to Sacramento, his son and the two
ladies had stopped on for a day or two at
the Ditch Superintendent's house on the Sum-
mit, only two miles away. She might pass
on the road ; he might get a glimpse of her
again and a wave of her hand before this
thing was over forever and he should have
to take up the daily routine of his work
again.

It was not love, of that he was assured ;
but it was the way to stop it by convincing
himself of its madness. Besides, in view of
all the circumstances, it was his duty as a
gentleman to show some concern for her
condition after the accident and the disagree-
able contretemps which followed it.

Thus Bray ! Alas, none of these possibili-
ties occurred. He found the spring had sim-
ply lapsed into its previous unsuggestive ob-
scurity, a mere niche in the mountain side
that held only— water. The stage road was
deserted t'ave for an early, curly-headed
school-boy, whom he found lurking on the
bank, but who evaded his company and con-
versation.

He returned to the camp quite cured of
his fancy. His late zeal as a water-carrier
had earned him a day or two's exemption
from that duty. His place was taken the
next afternoon by the woman-hating Park-
hurst, and he was the less concerned by it
as he had heard that the same afternoon
the ladies were to leave the Summit for
Sacramento.

But then occurred a singular coincidence.

The new water-bringer was as scandalously
late in his delivery of the precious fluid as
his predecessor. An hour passed, and he
did not return. His unfortunate partners,
toiling away with pick and crowbar on the
burning ledge, were clamorous from thirst,
and Bray was becoming absurdly uneasy. It
could not be possible that the accident
had bean repeated. Or had sh^ met him
with inquiries? But no, she was already
gone.

The mystery was presently cleared, how-
ever, by the abrupt appearance of Parkhurst
running toward them, but without his pail.
The cry of consternation and despair which
greeted that discovery was, however, quickly
changed by a single, breathless, half-intel-
ligible sentence he had shot before him from
his panting lips, and he was holding some-
thing in his outstretched palm that was
more eloquent than words — gold !

In an instant they had him under the shade
of the pine tree, and were squatting round
him like school-boys. He was profoundly
agitated. His story, far from being brief,
was incoherent, and at times seemed irrel-
evant, but that was characteristic. They
would remember that he had always held the
theory that even in quartz mining the de-
posits were always found near water, past
or present, with signs of fluvial erosion. He
didn't call himself a one of your blanked sci-
entific miners, but his head was level. It
was all very well for them to say, ** Yes!
yes! " now; but they didn't used to. Well,
when he got to the spring, he noticed that
there had been a kind of landslide above it
— of course from water cleavage — and there
was a distinct mark of it on the mountain-
side, where it had uprooted and thrown over
some small bushes.

Excited as Bray was, he recognized with
a hysterica] sensation the track made by
Eugenia in her fall, which he himself had
noticed; but he had thought only of her.

** When I saw that," continued Parkhurst,
more rapidly and coherently, **I saw that
there was a crack above the hole where the
water came through, as if it had been the
old channel of the spring. I widened it a
little with my clasp-knife, and then, in a lit-
tle pouch or pocket of decomposed quartz,
I found that!"

** Not only that, boys," he continued, ris-
ing, with a shout, *' but the whole slope
above the spring is a mass of seepage under-
neath, as if you'd played a hydraulic hose
on it, and it's ready to tumble and is just
rotten with quartz ! "

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A JACK AND JILL OF THE SIERRAS.

229

HE men leaped to
their feet; in
another moment
they had snatched
picks, pans, and
shovels, and the
foreman leading,
with a coil of rope
thrown over his
shoulders, were
all flying down
the trail to the
highway. Their haste was wise. The spring
was not on their claim; it was known to
others; it was doubtful if Parkhurst's dis-
covery with his knife amounted to actual
work on the soil. They must ** take it up "
with a formal notice, and get to work at
once.

In an hour they were scattered over the
mountain side, like bees clinging to the fra-
grant slope of laurel and myrtle above the
spring. An excavation was made beside
it, and the ledge broadened by a dozen
feet. Even the spring itself was utilized
to wash the hastily filled prospecting-pans.
And when the Pioneer coach slowly toiled
up the road that afternoon, the passengers
stared at the scarcely dry ** Notice of Lo-
cation'' pinned to the pine by the road
bank whence Eugenia had fallen two days
before.

Eagerly and anxiously as Edward Bray
worked with his companions, it was with
more conflicting feelings. There was a cer-
tain sense of desecration in their act. How
her proud lip would have curled had she seen
him — him, who but a few hours before would
have searched the whole slope for the trea-
sure of a ribbon, a handkerchief, or a bow
from her dress — now delving and picking the
hillside for that fortune her accident had
so mysteriously disclosed. Mysteriously he
believed, for he had not fully accepted Park-
hurst's story. That gentle misogynist had
never been an active prospector; an inclina-
tion to theorize without practice and com-
bat his partners' experience was against
his alleged process of discovery, although
the gold was actually there ; and his conduct
that afternoon was certainly peculiar. He
did but little of the real work, but wandered
from man to man with suggestions, advice,
and exhortations and the air of a superior
patron. This might have been characteris-
tic, but mingled with it was a certain ner-
vous anxiety and watchfulness. He was
continually scanning the stage road and the
trail, staring eagerly at any wayfarer in the

distance, and at times falling into fite of
strange abstraction. At other times he
would draw near to one of his fellow-part-
ners, as if for confidential disclosure, and
then check himself and wander aimlessly
away. And it was not until evening came
that the mystery was solved.

The prospecting-pans had been duly washed
and examined, the slope above and below
had been fully explored and tested, with a
result and promise that outran their most
sanguine hopes. There was no mistaking
the fact that they had made a '* big " strike.
That singular gravity and reticence, so often
observed in miners at these crises, had
come over them as they sat that night for
the last time around their old camp-fire on
the Eureka ledge, when Parkhurst turned
impulsively to Bray. ** Roll over here,"
he said in a whisper ; '' I want to tell ye
suthin'."

Bray ** rolled " beyond the squatting cir-
cle, and the two men gradually edged them-
selves out of hearing of the others. In the
silent abstraction that prevailed nobody no-
ticed them.

** It's got suthin' to do with this discov-
ery," said Parkhurst, in a low, mysterious
tone, ** but as far as the gold goes, and our
equal rights to it as partners, it don't affect
them. If I," he continued, in a slightly
patronizing, paternal tone, ** choose to make
you and the other boys shares in what seems
to be a special providence to me, I reckon
we won't quarrel on it. It's a mighty curi-
ous, singular thing. It's one of those things
ye read about in books and don't take any
stock in. But we've got the gold, and I've
got the black and white to prove it, even if
it ain't exactly human."

His voice sank so low, his manner was
so impressive, that despite his known exag-
geration. Bray felt a slight thrill of super-
stition. Meantime Parkhurst wiped his
brow, took a folded slip of paper and a
sprig of laurel from his pocket, and drew a
long breath.

** When I got to the spring this morning,"
he went on in a nervous, tremulous, and
scarcely audible voice, ** I saw this bit o'
paper, folded notewise, lyin' on the ledge
before it. On the top of it was this sprig of
laurel, to catch-the eye. I ain't the man to
pry into other folks' secrets or read what
ain't mine. But on the back o' this note
was written 'To Jack.' It's a common
enough name ; but it's a singular thing, ef
you'll recollect, thar ain't another Jack in
this company, nor on the whole ridge betwixt

230

A JACK AND JILL OF THE SIERRAS,

this and the Summit, except myself. So I
opened it, and this is what it read.'' He
held the paper sideways toward the leaping
light of the still near camp-fire, and read
slowly, with the emphasis of having read it
many times before :

** I want you to believe that /, at least,
respect and honor your honest, manly call-
ing, and when you strike it rich, as you
surely will, I hope you will sometimes think
of Jill."

In the thrill of joy, hope, and fear that
came over Bray he could see that Parkhurst
had not only failed to detect his secret, but
had not even connected the two names with
their obvious suggestion. " But do you know
anybody named Jill ? " he asked breathlessly.

'* It's no name/' said Parkhurst, in a som-
ber voice ; " it's Si-thing.'*

'* A thing," repeated Bray, bewildered.

** Yes, a measure, you know; two fingers
of whisky."

*' Oh, a 'gill,'" said Bray.

"That's what I said, young man," re-
turned Parkhurst gravely.

Bray choked back a hysterical laugh ; spell-
ing was notoriously not one of Parkhurst's
strong points. *' But what's a * gill' got to
do with it ? " he asked quickly.

** It's one of them sphinx things, don't
you see? A sort of riddle or rebus, you
know. You've got to study it out, as them
old chaps did. But I fetched it. What
comes after ' gills,' eh ? "

** Pints, I suppose," said Bray.

'' And after pints ? "

"Quarts."

* * Quartz ; and there you are. So I looked
about me for quartz, and, sure enough,
struck it the first pop."

Bray cast a quick look at Parkhurst's
grave face. The man was evidently im-
pressed and sincere. " Have you told this
to any one ? " he asked quickly.

"No."

" Then d(m% or you'll spoil the charm and
bring us ill-luck. That's the rule, you know.
I really don't know that you ought to have
told me," added the artful Bray, dissembling
his intense joy at this proof of Eugenia's
remembrance.

" But," said Parkhurst blankly, " you see,
old man, you'd just been to the spring, and
I kinder thought "

" Don't think," said Bray promptly, " and
above all don't talk. Not a word to the
boys of this. Stay! Give me the paper
and the sprig. I've got to go to San Fran-
cisco next week, and FU teke care of it

and think it out." He knew that Park-
hurst might be tempted to talk, but with-
out the paper his story would be treated
lightly. Parkhurst handed him the paper,
and the two men returned to the camp-
fire.

That night Bray slept but little. The su-
perstition of the lover is no less keen than
that of the gambler, and Bray, while laugh-
ing at Parkhurst's extravagant fancy, I am
afraid, was equally inclined to believe that
their good fortune came through Eugenia's
influence. At least he should tell her so,
and her precious note became now an invita-
tion, as well as an excuse for seeking her.
The only fear that possessed him was that
she might have expected some acknowledg-
ment of her note before she left that after-
noon. The only thing he could not under-
stand was how she had managed to convey
the note to the spring, for she could not
have taken it herself. But this would doubt-
less be explained by her in San Francisco,
whither he intended to seek her. His affairs,
the purchasing of machinery for their new
claim, would no doubt give him easy access
to her father.

But it was one thing to imagine this while
procuring a new and fashionable outfit in San
Francisco, and quite another to stand before
the "palatial" residence of the Neworths
on Rincon Hill, with the consciousness of no
other introduction than the memory of the
Neworths' discourtesy on the mountain, and
even in his fine feathers Bray hesitated. At
this moment a carriage rolled up to the door,
and Eugenia, an adorable vision of laces and
silks, alighted.

Forgetting everything else he advanced
toward her with outstretched hand. He saw
her start, a faint color come in her face.
He knew he was recognized, but she stiffened
quickly again, the color vanished, her beau-
tiful gray eyes rested coldly on him for a
moment, and then, with the faintest inclina-
tion of her proud head, she swept by him
and entered the house.

But Bray though shocked was not daunted,
and perhaps his own pride was awakened.
He ran to his hotel, summoned a messenger,
enclosed her note in an envelope, and added
these lines :

Dear Miss Nkworth,— I only wanted to thank
joa an hoar ago — as I should liked to have done before
— for the kind note which I enclose, but which yon
have made me feel I have no right to treasure any
longer, and to tell you that your most generous wish
and prophecy have been more than folfiUed.

Yours very gratefuHy,

Edmund Brat. r>

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A JACK AND JILL OF THE SIERRAS.

231

ITHIN
the hour
the mes-
senger
retunied
with the
still
briefer
reply:

Miss Neworth has been fully aware of that pre-
occupation with his good fortune which prevented Mr.
Bray from an earlier acknowledgment of her foolish
note.

Cold as this response was, Bray's heart
leaped. She had lingered on the Summit and
had expected a reply. He seized his hat,
and jumpinjg into the first cab at the hotel
door, drove rapidly back to the house. He
had but one idea — to see her at any cost ;
but one concern — to avoid a meeting with her
father first, or a denial at her very door.

He dismissed the cab at the street corner,
and began to reconnoiter the house. It had
a large garden in the rear, reclaimed from
the adjacent scrub-oak infested sand hill,
and protected by a high wall. If he could
scale that wall, he could command the prem-
ises. It was a bright morning ; she might
be tempted into the garden. A taller scrub
oak grew near the wall. To the mountain-
bred Bray it was an easy matter to swing
himself from it to the wall, and he did. But
his momentum was so great that he touched
the wall only to be obliged to leap down into
the garden to save himself from falling there.
He heard a little cry, felt his feet strike
some tin utensil, and rolled on the ground
beside Eugenia and her overturned watering-
pot.

They both struggled to their feet with an
astonishment that turned to laughter in their
eyes, and the same thought in the minds of
both.

** But we are not on the mountains now,
Mr. Bray," said Eugenia, taking her hand-
kerchief at last from her sobering face and
straightening eyebrows.

** But we are quits," said Bray. " And
you now know my real name. I only came
here to tell you why I could not answer yoar
letter the same day. I never got it—/
mean " — he added hurriedly — ** another man
got it first."

She threw up her head, and her face grew
pale. ** Another man got it," she repeated.
** And you let another man "

'* No, no," interrupted Bray imploringly.
'* You don't understand. One of my part-

ners went to the spring that afternoon and
found it, but he neither knows who sent it
nor for whom it was intended." He hastily
recounted Parkhurst's story, his mysterious
belief and interpretation of the note. The
color came back to her face, and the smile
to her lips and eyes. '* I had gone twice to
the spring after I saw you, but I couldn't
bear its deserted look without you," he added
boldly. Here, seeing her face grow grave
again, he added: '' But how did you get the
letter to the spring, and how did you know
that it was found that morning ? "

It was her turn to look embarrassed and
entreating, but the combination was charm-
ing in her proud face. ** I got a little
school-boy at the Summit," she said, with
girlish hesitation, ** to take the note. He
knew the spring, but he didn't know you.
I told him — it was very foolish, I know — to
wait until you came for water, to be certain
that you got the note, to wait until you came
up, for I thought you might question him or
give him some word." Her face was quite
rosy now. ** But," she added, and her lip
took a divine pout, " he said he waited tvjo
hours ; that you never took the leaM concern
of the letter or him, but went around the
mountain side, peering and picking in every
hole and comer of it, and then he got tired
and ran away. Of course I understand it
now. It wasn't you — but oh, please! I
beg you, Mr. Bray, don't."

Bray released the little hand which he had
impulsively caught, and which had allowed
itself to be detained for a blissful moment.

"And now, don't you think, Mr. Bray,"
she added demurely, " that you had better
let me fill my pail again while you go round
to the front door and call upon me prop-
erly?"

" But your father ? "

" My father, as a
well-known investor,
regrets exceedingly
that he has not made
your acquaintance
more thoroughly in
his late brief inter-

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Google

232

BRYAN,

view. He is, as your foreman knows, ex-
ceedingly interested in the mines on Eureka
ledge. He will be glad if you would call."
She led him to a little door in the wall,
which she unbolted. '* And now, * Jill '
must say good-by to ' Jack,' for she must
make herself ready to receive a Mr. Bray
who is expected."

And when Bray, a moment later, called
at the front door, he was respectfully an-
nounced. He called another day, and many
days after. He came frequently to San
Francisco, and one day did not return to his
old partners. He had entered into a new
partnership with one who, he declared, ** had
made the first strike on Eureka Mountain."

BRYAN.

By William Allen Whttk,

▲athor oi " The Real Ia«ae " and ** The Court of Boyville."

Editor's Note.— In the following article, William Allen White beg^ins in McCujREfs Magazinb a series
of studies of the most conspicnons of onr present-day political figures. The characters to be presented in
this series have been chosen irrespective of the political sympathies of either Mr. White or of the editors of
McClure's, and solely because of the position they occupy in the mind of the public. Mr. Bryan leads the
series because, excepting a few men in official life, he is to-day the most prominent figure in the United
States. The next article will deal with a leading Republican.

As is evident from the present study, Mr. White purposes to give a frank portrait of a man as he sees
him. He ai^ues neither for nor against his views or deeds. He aims solely to show the reader what manner
of man this is that is playing so large a part in our public life. It is the sincere and unreserved expression
of his own impressions, after having stuped the man without bias or preconceit, that makes the value of the
papers.

HE political party is the grand-
son of the clan. From the
clan the party inherits much
bigotry. Therefore, parti-
sans generally put one cloak,
either of odium or sanctity,
on both the principles and the
men who lead in their advo-
cacy. It was ever thus.
Probably a child of Israel
would have laid off his gar-
ments as cheerfully to fight at an aspersion
cast at the probity of Moses as to uphold tt<e
wisdom of the platform which Moses pro-
claimed. So human nature has made it nec-
essary— and perhaps best — that all over this
land two opinions exist about the leader of
the minority party in this government. One
opinion — that held by his partisans — is this,
that William Jennings Bryan has god-like
courage and indomitable energy directed by
divine wisdom; that he is saintly in self-
effacement and heroic in achievement for the
poor and the oppressed. Another opinion —
that held by those who differ with Mr. Bryan
about the coinage of silver— is this, that
he is an arrant demagogue, vacillating by
nature, consciously dishonest, the malicious
soul of error, and the fountainhead of trea-

sonable doctrines which invite anarchy by
the attempt to establish socialism.

Of course both estimates of Mr. Bryan's
character are incorrect — the estimate of his
friends as surely as that of his enemies.
Nature never made a human being entirely
good or entirely bad. Yet, ordinarily, in
presidential years intelligent Americans for-
get that the habitat of heroes and of villains
is in books and plays. Maybe citizens take
this unreasonable view of candidates for
ofl^ce because to the popular mind an elec-
tion is an act in a drama and all the men
and women merely players. So it is easy to
cry with Richard : "Off with his head !
So much for Buckingham; " or off with his
reputation, or off with his peace of mind,
or off with his ambition. We forget that
the hated Buckingham leading the despised
opposition may be, after all, an excellent
g^ritleman, with two legs, real blood danc-
ing through a merry heart, delightfully hu-
man in his preference for wearing his head
ab'^ve his collar-button rather than in the
hp^dsman's basket, eminently sane in his
pride in his good name, pardonable in hiB
desire for peace of mind, and with a con-
science behind his ambition.

Now the object of this sketch is simply

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE.

233

to consider one of the foremost characters
in contemporary history, not as a hero or
as a villain, but as **a prosperous gentle-
man,** without cherubic wings chafed by his
suspenders, and without cloven hoofs under
his respectable shoes. Perhaps the direct
way to this object is to introduce as ' * Exhibit
A " a few lines descriptive of Mr. Bryan as
he appears to the naked eye. *

The first impression one receives of the
man, and the last impression to fade, is that
of youth : not the youth of immaturity ; not
the youth of mad vanity and folly ; but the
youth of the bridegroom coming forth from
his chamber, rejoicing as a strong man ; the
youth of hope, of enthusiasm, of bright eyes
that indicate a good liver and reflect a brave
soul. All the lines of the tall figure that
enclose over 200 pounds of wholesome flesh
and blood are lines of young manhood. The
crescent of his slowly growing vest is the
crescent of a young moon, and although
Bryan's hair is receding from his brow, no
wrinkles mark it, and beneath it is a Wells-
bach smile, clear and steadfast and cheerful
as the sunrise. At home, in his oflSce, or
in the street, that smile is winning. It is its
owner's talisman. But in public life — and
Bryan is more natural there than in private
life (indeed he has little private life) — in
public life that smile is the pyrotechnic ob-
bligato for a saxophone voice. Back of the
broad chin is a strong jaw ; under the jaw
a neck, obstinate as a Turk's, slopes into a
pair of as diplomatic shoulders as ever saved
an Irishman's head from a blackthorn stick.
Bryan's figure is all Irish. His loose hang-
ing arms are Irish. His sturdy well-pegged
legs are Irish. And there's an Irish grand-
sire — who used to smoke a clay pipe prob-
ably— and he likes to come back and rest his
bones, that have been under the ** ould sod "
these hundreds of years, by sitting on the
small of his grandson's back to view the
world from across his grandson's elevated
knees. Doubtless if the scion would take a
little something at such times, the ancestor
would come out of the past and give the
young man a philosophy that would smile
with the world at its weaknesses and short-
comings. But Bryan is a sober and a vir-
tuous man who neither smokes, drinks,
chews, nor swears. So the old one keeps
his place and listens while his offspring sighs
at the misery and wickedness and woe of
this melancholy world.

Clothe a handsome figure in a black tail-
coat, and under the awning of a black slouch
hat put a low-cut vest, with two studs fast-

ened through the front of a white shirt ; tie
a black string- tie, the inevitable neckgear
.of the young lawyer ten years ago, under a
lay-down collar; modify the chill atmosphere
of the bar by the breezy amiability of a St.
Louis shoe-drummer, repressed while he sells
a Methodist deacon a bill of goods, and the
gentle reader may have a fair idea of how
Bryan looks, acts, moves, and has his being,
when he is not before an audience. There
— but that must come later. Of course he
was not modeled as he stands to-day from
red clay. He did not spring full-panoplied
from the helmet of the statue of Chicago
at the Convention of '96. He grew. And
the story of his growth is of passing in-
terest.

This story may be told in " the short and
simple annals" of the comfortably well-to-
do. Bryan was born in 1860, at Salem, Illi-
nois. His father was judge of a district
court for twelve years, until 1872, when he
ran for Congress, and was defeated, although
on a Democratic ticket with a Greenback
endorsement. Bryan's mother was a Jen-
nings, and one of his grandmothers a Lillard,
of Virginia. In Bryan's book, " The First
Battle," his wife has written a short biog-
raphy of her husband. In this she tells of
his boy life ; how he did the chores on his
father's town farm, how he hunted rabbits,
how he ''joined church" and decided, as
many boys do at some stage of their lives, to
become a preacher, and compromised on the
bar ; how he went to school, and how — this
is the first key to his character — ** he de-
veloped an interest in the work of literary
and debating societies." This debating so-
ciety business was the youth's stronghold.
His wife puts it happily thus: ** A prize
always fired William's ambition. During
his first year in the academy (the prepara-
tory department of Illinois College), he de-
claimed Patrick Henry's masterpiece, and
ranked well down the list. Nothing daunted,
the next year found him with the * Palmetto
and the Pine' as his subject. The next
year, p. freshman in college, he tried for a
prize in Latin prose, and won half the sec-
ond prize. Later in the year he declaimed
* Bernardo del Carpio,' and gained second
prize. In his sophomore year he entered
another contest, with an esgay on * Labor.'
This time the first prize rewarded his work.
An oration on * Individual Powers ' gave
him a place in the intercollegiate contest
held at Galesburg, where he ranked second."

Now, if the Republicans fancy that they can
talk Mr. Bryan down, they mav^see their mis-
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234

BRYAN.

take in this record. He is only up to ** The
Palmetto and the Pine" contest this year,
with three more contests yet before him.
After graduation, Bryan went into law, and
glided from law to politics with ** that mild
and healing sympathy" that stole away his
practice e'er he was aware. He moved from
Jacksonville, Illinois, to Lincoln, Nebraska,
and in 1888 he stumped the First Congres-
sional District for J. Sterling Morton. Two
years later he canvassed the district for him-
self, and won. After two terms in Con-
gress, one of which was served on the Ways
and Means Committee, Bryan came home to
find moth and rust corrupting his law books,
80 he closed them and turned to his true
love, '' the people." He ran for the United
States Senate in '94. When he failed of
election, he packed his grip and went forth
preaching the silver gospel. He lectured
for pay when he could get it, for nothing
when he could do no better ; but he never
stopped talking, and he paid his own way.
In the two years preceding '96, Bryan went
into nearly every State in the Mississippi
Valley, and he spoke but one message — the
free and unlimited coinage of silver at 16
to 1. He set more acres of prairie afire for
free silver than any other man. He made
friends everywhere, for he has that grace
of manner and gentleness of personality
that bind friends in sheaves in his path.
He has all the charm and winsomeness
that Dickens gave to Steerforth. Thus it
happened that, when delegates to the Na-
tional Democratic Convention began to rise
in the various States a hundred of them
knew Bryan, and scores of them had writ-
ten.to him urging him to run for the presi-
dential nomination. No man was preeminent
in the silver movement. It was a struggle
for principle among the Western Democrats,
not a clamor for a man. The silver leaders
conspiring to overthrow the federal appoin-
tees' wing of Democracy, were not sure
enough of a victory to give much time to
the distribution of the spoil.

In the Chicago Convention the theorists
prevailed. It was clearly the sense of the
meeting that man is a creature of the State,
rather than that the State is a creation of
man's. It was preeminently an emotional
occasion. The orator who could arouse
some one, challenge some one, defy some
one else, and plead for something — that
orator could best voice the sentiments of
his auditors. That orator was Bryan. He
stepped naturally into supremacy at the
talk-feast, because he had been training for

that famous speech, and for nothing else,
from the hour when he recited ** Patrick
Henry's Address." All the days of his
youth had been spent in practising elocu-
tion ; the days of maturity in debating. Am-
bition had led him through green pastures.
Physical toil had not twisted his youthful
frame ; no complaining at fate had put the
rasp of despair in his musical voice. He
rose in his place in the throng of men who
had fought their way to approximate suc-
cess by hard, disfiguring 4mocks, and he
seemed as one apart from practical life —
one exalted. He could not know it, but this
distinction gave him his courage. No in-
dustrial concern had ever bothered him to
act as its director or as its superintendent,
or as its foreman or as a laborer; no finan-
cial institution had asked him to be its treas-
urer or its promoter or a member of its ad-
visory board. No social experiment had
been put into his hands for development.
His knowledge of the actual strength and
weakness, quirks and foibles of human na-
ture was a blank page. Upon it he might
write a theory of human conduct and argue
therefrom with deep, unsimulated feeling.
No fluttering wings of doubt, that would have
brushed by another man's eyes and made
him stammer and hesitate in his climaxes,
disturbed Bryan. His magnificent earnest-
ness was hypnotic. Because he lost no force
of his eloquence convincing himself, the
weight of all his rhetoric, of his splendid
magnetic presence, of his resonant voice,
fell upon the delegates and filled them with
the frenzy that has made every reckless mob
of history. Bryan's supremacy in the Chi-
cago Convention was as inevitable as Robes-
pierre's in the Assembly. And he did even
more than hypnotize the delegates. Through
the nerves of the telegraph that speech thrilled
a continent, and for a day a nation was in
a state of mental and moral catalepsy.

If the election had been held that July
day, Bryan would have been chosen Presi-
dent. Indeed, all his opponents did in the
three months following his speech was to
arouse the people from their trance. It
took much shaking up to break the spell,
much marching of the patient up and down
the land under torches and to martial music
to revive him and restore him to his natural
faculties It is not fair, therefore, to say
that the man who put the moral and mental
faculties of the nation to sleep is not a
strong man. He may not be particularly
wise, for wisdom and oratorical strength are
not inseparably allied.

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WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE.

235

Bryan is deadly serious. From the caverns
of his inexperience comes no cackle of mirth
at his own presumption, such as invariably
comes to a man of ripe philosophy. Bryan
sees in his creed the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth. With him an
expeditious compromise would be a dishon-
orable surrender. The easy circumstances of
his early life, his present environment in the
primrose path, his felicitous career following
the beckonings of a mastering ambition —
these things conspire to persuade him that
he is a statesman of destiny. Men who fight
their way up from the bottom to the top of
fortune's hill are apt to take personal credit
for their victories and believe little in the
influence of the State. But Bryati's easy rise
has so confused him that it is natural for him
to hold that the State can make or break men.
His career makes it proper that he should
teach that the State by proclamation and en-
actment can coax the coy millennium out of
the roseate dawn and put salt on her tail.
For him to hold another view would argue in
him a vanity that is foreign to him.

In Bryan's home, the living-room is the
library. Around the library walls are pic-
tures of statesmen — Washington, Jefferson,
Jackson, and Lincoln prominently displayed ;
Benton, Webster, Calhoun, and the others,
in steel engravings, tucked away in odd
places. An eagle poised for flight totters
in front of Bryan's chair. Just behind it is
a picture which more than any other tells its
owner's point of view. The picture repre-
sents Henry Clay towering almost ten feet
high in the foreground, badly out of per-
spective, pleading with the lilliputian sena-
tors— all in stocks and tail coats, like Clay,
and all dignified and serious, wrapped in im-.
proving meditation. Of course no human
beings ever disported themselves in such un-
wriiiled pomp. But Bryan doubtless draws
from this picture many of his fine Fourth-
Reader views of the relations of life. The
books in the library also make an excellent
photograph of their owner's mental equip-
ment. Of fiction there is little. ** Caxton
editions " of a number of the classic novelists
are found in sets. Standard histories and
great orations common in schools twenty
years ago fill much space. Lord's ** Beacon
Lights of History," ** lives" of statesmen
old and new, collections of poetical ** gems,"
published by houses that sell through agents,
have shelf room beyond their deserts. On
the side of sociology and economics the
books are of the sort that may be called
propagandist. They were written by par-

tisans of a theory, rather than by well-known
scientists seeking the truth. Most of these
books might have been issued by the ** com-
mittee" or by the ** league" or by the
** association," and with a few exceptions
they bear the same relation to sane research
in the lines they traverse that ** Mother,
Home, and Heaven" and ** The Royal Path
of Life " bear to the work of Matthew Ar-
nold and the inquiries of Huxley, Darwin,
and Spencer. Contemporaneous literature
of the first order — new books and magazines
— and those refinements artistic and literary
which two decades of invention and indus-
trial organization have brought to American
homes, are conspicuously absent from the
Bryan library. ** Trilby " is the latest piece
of fiction there, and excepting a few eco-
nomic tracts, the shelves might have been
filled by a Virginia country judge before the
war. And this is but natural, for Bryan is
distinctly of the old school. His broad,
studded, antebellum shirt-bosom shows this
as clearly as does his child-like faith in the
integrity and omniscience of the people.
With him vox popvli is always vox Dei. And
this, too, in the face of the fact that in
modern politics men who affect solicitude
for the people are called demagogues. The
people — that solidarity of citizens of mutual
interest, common aspirations, and similar cir-
cumstances that once formed the masses of
the early Republic— seem to have resolved
themselves into a number of individuals,- as-
sociated by self-interest in groups, cliques,
coteries, classes, copipanies, corporations,
and municipalities. These units ask of gov-
ernment only an honest policeman and an in-
corruptible umpire to see that the fight is
fair. Therefore a large number of Mr.
Bryan's fellow-citizens — a majority, in fact
— sniffed at his strenuous clamor for ** the
people" four years ago as the recitations
of a demagogue. And like the priest and the
Levite, these fellow-citizens passed by on the
other side.

Now the truth of the matter is that Mr.
Bryan is not a demagogue. He is absolutely
honest, which a demagogue is not. He is
absolutely brave, which a demagogue is not.
He is passionately sincere, which a dema-
gogue is not. When Bryan came to Ne-
braska, a dozen years ago, his town, his
congressional district, and his State were
overwhelmingly Republican. A demagogue
would have joined the majority party. Bryan
took up the cause of tariff reform, and fought
a losing fight. When he became convinced
that free silver was right, he preached it in

236

BRYAN.

his congressional district with his party or-
ganization and the odds of battle against
him. He ran for the United States ^nate
in '94 with his party's State convention en-
dorsement. If he had trimmed a little on
free silver, the Cleveland gold Democrats
might have tamed the scales in his favor.
But he didn't trim; he lost. When Bryan
left the volunteer army of the United States
in '98, his party had been opposing the rati-
fication of the peace treaty with Spain.
Bryan opposed his party, and favored the
ratification of the treaty. A dishonest man
would have gloried in fighting the treaty.
To-day silver sentiment is dying in the West.
Bryan would not lose an electoral vote by
abandoning silver. He would gain thou-
sands of franchises in the East by such a
course. But because he believes that the
free coinage of silver is right, wild horses
cannot drag him from his stand.

Above everything else, Bryan personally
is what may be cajled a clean man. He is
a member of the Presbyterian Church, though
he does not add to his other fault the ** vice
of piety." His home life is that of the
average well-bred American — simple, affec-
tionate, stimulating. He takes his wife into
partnership in all his interests. She is his
only confidant and his final adviser. In the
town of Lincoln, which does not agree with
him politically and will not vote for him,
Bryan bears the reputation of a straightfor-
ward, honorable man, whose word is good,
and whose debts are paid when they fall due.
In the intrigues of local politics Bryan is not
a dominant force. He has never dominated
there. He talked himself into his honors in
local politics, instead of winning them in the
caucus. Most men in Western politics be-
gin at the bottom — run for county attorney,
or the legislature, are graduated into a judi-
cial nomination, and ascend to Congress at
the close of their political lives. Bryan,
having framed his life after the models in
the old school, began at the top.

Bryan shows his greatest personal strength
in the fact that he is to-day, as he has ever
been, utterly without a political machine.
Other men in American politics stand or fall
for reasons outside of their personality.
Mr. David Hill, for instance, is a geographi-
cal location. Mr. McKinley is a kind of
syndicate. Roosevelt stands for an ideal of
civic righteousness. Mr. Croker is an im-
pudent appetite. Quay is a system of wire-
less telegraphy. But Bryan is Bryan, and
Bryan is his prophet. More power for good
or evil rests under Bryan's black slouch hat

than under any other single head-piece in
America. Bryan is machineless, not because
he abhors the machine, but because he ig-
nores it. He would not know what to do
with captains and lieutenants. If his party
should begin to turn from him, Bryan could
not call, ** What ho, warder, let the port-
cullis fall," in a score of States and check .
the stampede. If oratory would not stop
the panic, the multitude would have to leave
him as it came to him. After which he
would go on lecturing till that gave out, and
running for the Senate till that gave out,
and for Congress till that gave out, when he
would return to his law office, and continue
as he was in the beginning, an honest, hard-
working, ordinary country lawyer, with an
extraordinary voice and a forceful, direct,
plausible way of putting short Anglo-Saxon
words that often moves juries, but is not so
thrilling in briefs.

But if, on the other hand, Bryan's presi-
dential ambition should be gratified, the
country would have a startling spectacle.
It would be like that of a Southern gentle-
man in swallow-tails and a choker, but one
generation removed from his periwig, sud-
denly shunted half a century ahead and
jammed into the oak-bottomed chair of a
railroad president. The gentleman of the
old school would try honestly to do his duty.
But he would have such difficult things to
learn, and such an incapacity for learning
them, that he would cut many a fantastic
caper and in the end make a mess of it as
bad as a thorough-going rascal would. Mr.
Bryan, trying to run the presidential office
as Jackson ran it, might make many impor-
tant and expensive personal discoveries. He
might discover that the world has moved
since Jackson's day; that the present phase
of industrial evolution is not a conspiracy
against God and man ; and that an intelligent
conscience is a surer guide than an ear
trained to catch the voice of the people.

The danger of men of Bryan's mold to the
country is not what they hold true, so much
as it is how they hold it ; not so much the
limit of their intelligence as their attitude
toward truth. For Bryan's mental endow-
ment is that of a debater. When he
faces an alleged fact, his habit is not to
search it for truth, but to answer it. He
is not seeking the truth; he has it, and
is seeking to make converts. While his
marvelous mental acuteness as a debater
is a shield that will always ward certain
truths from his heart, yet he has one sim-
ple oratorical trick, and only one : he begs

WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE,

237

the question. For instance, a reporter re-
cently asked Bryan if the practice of elect-
ing senators in Montana by the corrupt use
of money is not deplorable. His reply was:
** Don't you think the spectacle of Senator
Hanna voting to unseat Clark for buying an
election is incongruous ? *' Now the alleged
incongruity of Senator Hanna's position in
the Clark investigation has nothing to do
with the case against the corrupt use of
money in elections. But that answer be-
fore a crowd would turn the debate into an-
other channel. In his Chicago speech Bryan
said : ** If they tell us that the gold standard
is a good thing, we shall point to their
platform and tell them that their platform
pledges the party to get rid of the gold
standard and substitute bi-metallism. If the
gold standard is a good thing, why try to
get rid of it ? " With the crowd that passes
for argument against the gold standard ; but
the fact is, the merits or demerits of the
gold standard are not touched upon at all.
In no place in that speech was there a single
logical argument offered against the gold
standard. Yet the speech was a perfect
piece of rhetoric of its kind, and it convinced
thousands of the iniquity of the gold stan-
dard. Conviction came through bald, un-
supported assertion, repeated a score of
times in different figures of speech and ut-
tered with a manifest sincerity of belief that
was the orator's armament against contra-
diction. This method of political discussion
is not original with Bryan. It is common to
all debaters, to all politicians and to many
statesmen. But they cannot maintain the
unflinching sincerity that Bryan wears, for if
they are men of much intelligence, they see
their own sham, and having seen it, cannot
entirely conceal it. But Bryan, like the
lady in the poem, ** never can know and
never can understand.*'

And yet it is not the kind of argument
Bryan uses which gives him strength, it is
not the principles he advocates that draw
men to him. At the bottom of the magnet-
ism which pulls men toward Bryan is the
growth in the popular mind of a faith in so-
cialism, and a hope to see the State lay hold
of the industrial system and untangle its
many snarls. During this century of me-
chanical progress the economic world has
literally jumped a cog in the process of its
evolution. Alany people believe that society
is not properly adjusted, that the machinery
of industry is not in gear, and too many peo-
ple are being ground by it. There is a wide-
spread belief that repairs are needed, and
because Bryan gets out with hi^ oratorical
hammer and knocks upon the industrial sys-
tem and the existing order, unthinking peo-
ple have hailed him as the master mechanic.
But Bryan is not a builder. Oratory is
rarely constructive. It is an illusion, a
legerdemain, and the world is learning to dis-
associate oratory from statesmanship. There
is really no more reason for electing an orator
to oflSce than for electing a fiddler. Both tal*
ents rouse the emotions. Bryan is a voice.

When the master mechanic shall arrive
and straighten out the kinks in the great
machine of production and distribution, he
may be — probably will be— a prosaic, bald-
headed old man, whose mind has been trained
in the shops, factories, coanting-houses, and
offices of the world. This man will take a
legislative jack-screw, and work an impor-
tant miracle. When he shall have come and
gone — this true master mechanic— men will
smile at the remembrance of the passing day
when an earnest, honest, gallant, loquacious
young man charmed them T^'jth the melody
of his hypnotic voice.

And yet in every cause there must be a
voice crying in the wilderness.

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RAILWAY DEVELOPMENT IN CHINA.

By Wm. Barclay Parsons,

Chief Bngineer of the American-Chiiui Development Company.

READINESS OF THE COUNTRY FOR DEVELOPMENT.— LINES AL-
READY BUILT AND THOSE IN PROSPECT.— RIVALRY OF THE
GREAT POWERS.

HINA is a country that pre-
sents the curious anomaly of
possessing an extensive and
varied commerce, both
foreign and domestic, and
yet being without artificial
means of communication,
even the ordinary highways.
Other nations, such as India
or Japan, when they began
to reorganize in line with
modern conditions, already had wagon-roads,
and needed only to supplement these with
railways as development proceeded. Japan,
although it is only about as large as one of
China's provinces, and although it did not
begin the construction of railways until 1871,
now has a well-built system ramifying all
over the main island, aggregating 3,500
miles in length, and almost exclusively under
the management of native officials. China,
however, has clung tenaciously to the methods
and customs of other years, so that, with an
area for the empire proper equal to half that
of the United Btates, she has to-day only 516
miles of railway all told. Her sea-coast and
her waterways have been her supports. In
both of these particulars nature has been
most liberal with her. Her coast line is as
long as both the Atlantic and Pacific coast
lines of the United States— that is, as long
as the distance from Florida to Maine added
to the distance from Southern California to
Washington. In addition, there are noble
rivers penetrating to the very western con-
fines of the empire.

THE JUNK AND THE COOLIE THE CHIEF
MEANS OP TRANSPORT.

It is extraordinary to what extent the
waterways are employed, in spite of the en-
tire failure to improve their navigation or
remove natural obstacles and impediments.

Along the coast and for short distances up
the chief estuaries, the government has
established lighthouses and located beacons
and buoys; but up the rivers themselves
nothing of the kind has been done. For
coast and sea-going work the Chinaman uses
a junk of large and strong proportions, and
on the rivers one more adapted to the par-
ticular needs. No matter where the trav-
eler goes in the interior, he will find along
the river front of the cities he visits a ver-
itable forest of masts and a solid raft of
hulls. Except for use on the lower reaches
of the Yang-tze, where deeper water permits
some latitude in construction, the up-river
boats are of one general type. The hull
is flat-bottomed and constructed of heavy
planks, with a stout half-round timber at
the deck line, to serve as a guard when the
boats are banging together at landing-places.
The bow and stern are square, and the latter
is curved upward to form a poop. A deck
load can be housed under curved covers
of bamboo matting resting on permanent
frames. Under these covers the crew of
five men or more also find quarters, while
the owner and his family reside in the stern.
There are one or two masts, according to
the size of the boat, standing without stays
and carrying large sails of cotton canvas or
light bamboo mats. Of boats of this de-
scription there are tens of thousands, and
they pass and repass in endless processions.
Usually the boat itself is kept in fair con-
dition, but the same cannot be said of the
sails. A new sail is scarcely ever seen, and
many of them are so dilapidated as to cause
wonder at their being set at all. But a
Chinaman never considers time as of value ;
he feels no incentive to keep his source of
motive power in repair, but goes on using
it as it is until it can be no longer hoisted.
Boats rigged like these, and without keels
and of shallow draft, cannot make headway

RAILWAY DEVELOPMENT IN CHINA.

239

when both wind and current are adverse.
When this occurs or when the wind fails en-
tirely, recourse is had to poling, rowing, or
the more laborious method of ** tracking,"
which consists in dragging the junk by means
of a rope of twisted bamboo fibers attached to
the masthead and to yokes over the shoulders
of the crew ashore.

On reaching points where the shallowness
of the water stops the passage of such junks

to ten cents per diem, the horse cannot com-
pete, especially when he has not, as with us,
the economy of cheaper living, for in China
both men and horses are grain fed. There
are almost no roads. In general, the near-
est approach to a road is a path along which
a coolie can trudge. This he traverses
with his burden suspended in two packages
from the ends of a bamboo stick that rests
over either one or both shoulders. Fre-

RANCPON^

A MAP OF CHINA, SHOWING THE VARIOUS RAILWAY CONCESSIONS.

as draw more than two or three feet, cargoes
are transshipped to smaller boats ; and this
goes on until finally little sanpans (literally,
** three boards"), boats of the flimsiest de-
scription, drawing four inches or less, are
employed to carry goods to the very extreme
of river navigation. And in the latter por-
tion of the voyage the boats have often to
be dragged over shoals and rocks.

Arduous, however, as is the task of trans-
porting goods from, say, Shanghai or Canton
into the interior by means of river naviga-
tion, it is as nothing compared with the labor
required to deliver goods at a destination
removed from the waterway. This is done
almost wholly by coolies traveling on foot.
The horse, except in northern China, is little
used. When men receive as weges but five

quently the paths are located along the ridges
separating the rice-field terraces, in which
case they are increased in length unneces-
sarily from twenty-five to fifty per cent. If
they are subjected to heavy travel, they are
paved, with cobble or with flat stones ; and
if they are in a section of the country where
wheelbarrows are used, they have on hills a
tramway of stone slabs, in which the wheels
cut a deep groove. For convenience of port-
age over divides between navigable water-
courses, where there is concentrated a large
amount of through traffic, there are apt to
be roads much wider and better than these
rude local paths. They are well paved, and
are lined with stores, inns, and road-houses;
and ponies divide with men the wp^k of trans-
portation. Digitized by GOOglC

240

RAILWAY DEVELOPMENT IN CHINA,

Most of the use of the roads is in the trans-
portatioD of freight. The attending diffical-
ties are too great to permit much travel.
The high-class mandarin or rich native goes
about in a sedan chair. The lower-class
man walks, and if his wife attends him, he
transports her on a wheelbarrow. In the
North and in the South there are special
means for passenger travel not to be found
elsewhere. In the North, where horses are
employed, a traveler can hire a two-wheeled,
springless cart, an instrument of torture, but
one necessarily so on account of the rough
roads. In the South, there is found plying
on the waters that intersect the province of
Kwang-tung and its neighbors a form of
large junk, called a Canton River boat, with
a large sail, and in addition a stem-wheel
like a Mississippi River steamboat. It is
worked by a crew of natives ranging from
twelve to thirty-six in number, according to
the size of the craft, and it carries a hun-
dred or more passengers. For more speedy
transit, and contrary to the common belief
that the Chinaman does not appreciate quick-
ness, there is the " slipper " boat, so called
from its resemblance in outline to that useful
article. These little boats are very light in
construction, and are propelled by four oars-
men^ either men or women, of whom three
stand up and push on the oars, while one sits
down and pulls. The passengers lie at full
length in the toe.

THE RAILWAYS ALREADY BUILT IN CHINA.

It is really many years since railways were
first projected for China, for investors rec-
ognized early the value and importance of
the field. But, on account of the strong na-
tional antipathy to change, it was not until
1876 that official consent was obtained for
tlie first line. This was projected to run
nine miles, from Shanghai to Wu-chang, at
the junction of the Wusung and the
Yang-tze rivers, on the former of which
Shanghai is situated. The line was con-
structed with a thirty-inch gauge, and, al-
though it traversed a perfectly flat country,
it was given an absurdly tortuous alignment,
in order to avoid graves, special tracts of
land, houses, and similar obstacles. The
Chinese regarded the construction with ap-
parent indifference. But foreigners, al-
though knowing that in itself the line had
no great importance, nevertheless hailed it
as the opening of the door. Almost imme-
diately after its completion, the Chinese Gov-
ernment bought it, tore up the rails, and

threw the cars and locomotives into the river,
and with them went all hopes that an era of
Chinese development toward occidental civil-
ization had arrived. After this disappoint-
ment railway construction languished, and
China continued to get along, as she had
done for many centuries, and as indeed she
does still, with junks, sanpans, ponies, and
coolies. Some statesmen, by means of me-
morials to the throne, urged upon the im-
perial authorities the advisability of making a
change and adopting a new order of things ;
but the memorials were referred to some
government board, where they were con-
veniently pigeon-holed.

The next actual step forward was in con-
nection with the Kaiping coal mines, eighty-
four miles northeast of Tientsin. This fine
deposit of really excellent bituminous coal
required an outlet to market. In 1881, the
construction of a small tramway was begun
to transport coal a few miles to a small river,
whence it could find its way by junk to tide-
water. This little tram-road, projected by
the Chinese to be operated by horses, is the
real beginning of the Chinese railway sys-
tem. The work was intrusted to an English
engineer, Mr. C. W. Kinder, to whose cour-
age and persistency the present status of
railway development in China is largely due;
and he began, unknown to the Chinese, the
construction of a small locomotive, made up
largely from parts of old machines that he
could obtain on the ground. This engine,
appropriately named the * * Rocket of China, ' '
was actually put in service on this colliery
tram-road during the first year of the road's
operation, and so served to convert it from
itj3 original character into a real steam rail-
road. Then, step by step, mile by mile, the
little railway was extended, first to Tientsin;
then in 1893, ninety miles, to Shan-hSi-kwan,
the point where the Great Wall of China runs
into the sea ; and by 1899 forty miles fur-
ther, to Chung-hou-80, with construction pro-
jected, and at this writing just completed, to
New-Chwang, where connection is to be made
with the Chinese Eastern Railway, the Man-
churian branch of the Russian trans-Siberian
road.

Up to the year 1896, connection between
Tientsin and Peking, eighty miles, was main-
tained either by junks on the Pei-ho or
by ox-carts. In that year, however, the
railway between these two places was be-
gun, and completed in May, 1897. We thus
have a line, owned by the government, and
constructed by it under the direction of
Mr. Kinder and through the instrumentality

RAILWAY DEVELOPMENT IN CHINA,

241

of English banking houses, of 428.6 miles,
running from Peking to its port, Tientsin,
and thence northeasterly to and through the
Great Wall.

In 1896, construction was begun, also un-
der the direction of Mr. Kinder, of the first
link in a line connecting Peking with Han-
kow. This division has a length of eighty
miles, is built as far
as Pao-ting, and was
put into operation in
February, 1899.

In the meantime
the reconstruction of
the destroyed Wu-
chang line was de-
cided upon. The
work was under-
taken by H. E. Sheng
Tajen, the Director-
General of Imperial
Chinese Railways of
the South, and was
completed during
the past year.

We thus have in
China in actual oper-
ation 508.7 miles of
railway in the North,
including the line to
Pao-ting ; and the
8.1 miles of the Wu-
chang line in the
South, or a grand
total of only 516.8
miles for a country
of which the area
is about 1,400,000
square miles, and of
which the population is estimated, on a Chi-
nese basis, at 380,000,000.

FRIENDLIER ATTITUDE OP THE NATIVES —
LINES IN PROSPECT.

That the railway has come to stay in China
there is, of course, no question. The energy
of the government in pushing the construc-
tion of its own system alone proves that the
day of tearing up rails, as was done on the
Wu-chang line, is past. It is, indeed, the
opinion and confident belief of all who have
investigated the subject, that the time is at
hand when the actual system that is to cover
the Empire with its lace-work of steel can, not
only be projected on paper, but be materially
begun in its practical construction. Things,
however, move slowly in China. Although
the Northern railway had proved its commer-

A BOY CARRYING COAL PKOM THE MINES TO A JUNK.

Few mines are kioated directly on the water, and the
coal often has to be transsporttnl by hand hi baeketg^ a
l;ilH)riouB task In which even children are engaged. The
author sow some coal being thus carried twelve miles over
a high ridge. The boy in the picture had a jouniey of
about four milew.

cial desirability and success, it was not until
the war with Japan had shown the helpless-
ness of the country, by reason of the entire
lack of rapid and certain means of communi-
cation, that measures were taken looking to
decisive action. The country was divided into
two sections, called North and South, but
with no exact delimitations; over each of
these there was in-
stalled an official
with* the title of
Director-General of
Railways ; and rail-
ways were talked of
and projected for the
length and breadth
of the land.

There are in China
four centers of dis-
tribution, made so
by geographical con-
siderations, and
therefore with a
supremacy that will
not be overcome.
One is Shanghai, at
the mouth of the
Yang-tze River; it
is sometimes called
the New York of
China. Another is
Hankow, at the
head of large
steamer navigation
on the same river,
700 statute miles
from its mouth, and
at the point of junc-
tion with the river
llan ; it is the great market for the interior,
and is known as the Chicago. In the South
is Canton, at the head of the river of the
same name, a river which is really the estuary
for the West (Si), North (Pei), and Pearl
rivers. Canton was China's first open port,
and it is now the center of the general manu-
facturing industry. Finally, in the North,
there is Tientsin, which, with Peking only
eighty miles distant, is frequently alluded to
as the * * metropolitan district. ' ' In the past,
("hina has been able to carry on her commerce
because these four cities all had water con-
nections. But modern conditions require a
more certain and speedy means of communi-
cation. Especially is this the case at Tien-
tsin, where the port is closed by ice for
nearly one-third of every year. The lines of
primary importance in China's railway sys-
tem will be those connecting these four

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242

RAILWAY DEVELOPMENT IN CHINA.

A RICH WAY PAVED FOR WHEELBARROWS.
CVrtaiii niuch-lravelwi hti^'livvayH, in Hi-ctiorm
where whc't'l barrows &tv iiBttl, have on ai»oenl8 a
central pavement of lon^' wtone (*lahH, in wjiith the
wheels wear a deep furrow. The liijijliwav htiown
in the picture \a mUl to U; over I, (nut yrar?* ol<l.

points. Strangely enough, the four
are about equally distant from
each other, say 700 miles, ex-
cept that Hankow lies midway and
in line between Canton and Tien-
tsin.

For the construction of these and
other lines recourse must be had to
foreign capital, aided by the Chinese
Government. Although the Chinese
Government itself, under English ad-
vice, has been able to construct and
successfully operate 375 miles in and
about the *' metropolitan district/*
the task of constructing and organiz-
ing the trr^^at system that is already
80 imperatively needed ia one from
which any government might well
shrink. On the other hand, while
there is a large amount of private
wealth in China, native capitalists
have not been instructed in the idea
of combining in large joint-stock com-

panies, and therefore the initiative must
devolve on the foreigner.

But as the need of railways grows more
pressing, a more adventurous spirit is forced
upon the Government, and it is now giv-
ing foreigners the right to construct and
operate railways. The concessions clearly
state, however, that the title to the property
thus created remains in the Government (ac-
cording to Chinese theory, the Emperor is the
owner of all things), and that the money re-
quired for construction is to be advanced by
the foreigner as a loan. In order that the
latter may recoup himself for this loan, he
receives bonds guaranteed, both as to prin-
cipal and interest, by the Government, bear-
ing five per cent, interest, payable in the
current gold coin of the foreigner's country.
These bonds are issued at such a reasonable
discount as to pay the expense of making
the issue to the investing public, and in only
such quantities as are necessary to pay the
legitimate cost of construction, so that the
purchasers of the bonds receive a security
based on positive value and without the usual
*' watering." The time of the loan varies

PAST FREIGHT.

In central China the wheelharrow is used largely for transportation
both of paaaengere and freight It has a large wheel, someUmes three
feet In diameter, over which the load is balanced, thoa relieving the
man of math of the weight.

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RAILWAY DEVELOPMENT IN CHINA,

243

with each concession, but is usually between
forty and fifty years. During this time the
control of the property, so far as* financial
matters are concerned, is vested absolutely
in the foreigner's hands, and, so far as local
matters are concerned, in a board in which
the foreign element and influence predomi-
nate. And to pay the foreigner for his labor
he is entitled to receive a certain proportion,
usually twenty per cent., of the net earnings,
if any, after paying operating expenses and
interest. The bonds are redeemable at a
price fixed in the concession, so that, in the
event of the credit of the Chinese (lovern-
ment improving, the first issue may be re-
funded at a lower rate. At the end of the
fixed period the foreigner's interest ceases
entirely, and the Chinese take over the man-
agement. Other provisions require the for-
eigner to maintain a school of instruction ;
to consider ('hinese on an equal footing with
foreigners for appointment; to permit na-
tives to invest in the securities; to transport
government troops and munitions of war at
half rates; and, in the event of war between
China and another power, not to give aid to
the enemy. On the other hand, the full
power of the Government is pledged, in ad-

DBSCENT ON THE SOUTH, OR CHINA SEA, SmE OF CHEUNG PASS.

This pass fa the highway between the Yangtze valley and the China Sea,
over which a vast trade was once transporttKl. In this journey of thirty
miles ponies as well as men are used for carrying goods.

A Hir.HWAY.

The usual highway in China is the top of
one of thu tormces Bopaniting rice fields,
wUlenetl tfi three or four ft-et, and nonietimes
paved. The rice fluids on either nide are
flooile^l. The figures slunvu in the picture
arc BoUlien*, and made part of the author's
bodyguard.

dition to its financial guarantee,
to protect the foreigner in the
full and unrestricted right, ac-
cording to the terms of the con-
cession, to use and enjoy the
fruits of his labors.

IMPORTANT CONCESSIONS AL-
READY GRANTED.

Under such conditions, the
first concession granted and ac-
cepted for a private railway,
except the old Wu-chang line,
which was torn up, was for a
railway from Peking, or rather
from Feng-thai, which is five
miles from Peking on the Tien-
tsin-Peking line, to Hankow.
This was granted to a Belgian

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244

RAILWAY DEVELOPMENT IN CHINA,

A LARGE FREIGHT BOAT ON THE PEI-HO RIVER.

Thefle boats take goods from Canton to 8hao-chan or IxM'hang, there to be reloaded on san-
pani^ and w) carried to the foot of the Ctieling Pass. In the picture, the wind being adverse, the
mast is seen I'olded back, and the crew ore engaged in poling. For convenience in poling each bout
is equipped with a runningboard on either nide. Sometimes, in adverse wimJs, recourse is had to
" tracking,'* when the boat is hauled along by a rope In the hands of the crew on shore.

iuju

A CANTON SUPPER BOAT.

The " slipper " boat— so named from its shape— is propelled by oars plied by four persons,
men or women, three standing and one sitting at the work. It is found in great numbers on
the streams around Canton. And It is the nearest approach to rapid transit that Chinese ingenuity
has produced. The passengers, usually two in number, recline in the bow, or '* toe,'*

syndicate, though
the general belief
in China is that
at that time it
was supported by
Russian influence,
in order to get a
railway into the
heart of the
Yang-tze valley.
The upper portion
of this line waa
constructed by
the Chinese Gov-
ernment itself
under Mr. Kinder,
but was after-
ward turned over
to the Belgian
company, to be
operated as a part
of the line pro-
posed in its con-
cession.

The next con-
cession was for a
continuation of
the Peking-Han-
kow line, extend-
ing it from Han-
kow to Canton,
This was given
to the American
syndicate. The
two lines will be
of about the same
length, 700 miles,
so that together
they will make a
continuous line
of about 1,400
miles. This will
connect North
and South China,
and divide the
country into ap-
proximately two
equal parts, east
and west; and
with the Yang-
tze River, which
crosses the line
near the middle,
and which forms
the great artery
of travel into
western* China
and the interior,
will practically

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RAILWAY DEVELOPMENT IN CHINA,

245

A SMALL FREIGHT BOAT ON THE PEI-HO.

The Chinese boatrowner, grudging outlay and conisidering time as of no value, poetponce the pur-
chase of a new sail until there is absolutely nothing left of the old.

qoarter the em-
pire. Hence
these two con-
cessions (treat-
ing them for
the moment as
one) provide the
great Chinese
trunk line, the
importance of
which to the
future trans-
portation system
of the country
cannot be over-
estimated. As
there is always
at least twelve
feet of water in
the Yang-tze
River between
Hankow and
Shanghai, we
shall have, as
soon as the rail-
way is finished,
good communi-
cation established between Hankow and Can- A fourth concession is to an Anglo-German
ton, Hankow and the ** metropolitan dis- syndicate for a line from Tientsin, through
trict," and Hankow and Shanghai. Shan-tung, along the line of the old Grand

Of other con-
cessions actually
granted, there is
one for a line
from Shanghai,
by way of Su-
chau, to Ching-
kiang, and so on
to Nanking, with
an extension
crossing the
river to Sin-
yang, and with a
branch extend-
ing from Su-
chau, by way of
Heng-chau, to
Ning-po. This
is an English
concession, and
it has a double
value in that it
controls the ap-
proaches to
Shanghai and
forms the first
step in a line
from Shanghai
to Hankow.

CHANG-SHA ON THE SIANG, THE CAPITAL OP HU-NAN.

Here, as in all Chinese cities with a water front, the shore Is lined with rows of junks, all engaged

in traiUc.

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RAILWAY DEVELOPMENT IN CHINA.

Canal to the Yaug-tze River opposite Ching-
kiang, where connection will be made, prob-
ably by ferry, with the English line to Shang-
hai.

We thus have already, either under con-
struction or at least actually conceded, all
of the primary lines except the one between
Canton and Shanghai and the one between
Hankow and
Shanghai; and on
the latter a be-
ginning has been
made, and between
Canton and Shang-
hai there is already
good sea communi-
cation. The only
other concession
as yet actually
made is for a sys-
tem of lines con-
necting the coal-
fields in Shan-si
and Shen-si,
granted to an
Anglo-Italian as-
sociation, usually
spoken of as the
••Peking Syndi-
cate." For all of
the above lines
surveys are in pro-
gress or have actu-
ally been made.

The present situation in China in regard to
railways may, therefore, be summarized as
follows :

Lines Constructed.

ChiQese Imperial Railway 428.7 miles.

Wn-chang Railway 8.1 "

Belgian (^ncession, Feng-thai to Pao-ting... 80.0 **

Total 516.8 miles.

Under Construction.
Belgian Concession (Lu-han Ry.) 600.0 "

Surveyed or Under Survey,
Lines Surveyed :
American Concession (Fueh-han Ry.),

Hankow to Canton and Branches.... 900.0 miles.
English Concession (Nanking, Shang-
hai, Ning-po Concession) 450.0 *'

Under Survey :
English Concession (Nanking, An-
yang) 450.0 "

Tientsin-Ching-kiang Line 700.0 "

Peking Syndicate Lines 500.0 **

Total 3,000.0 miles.

Of contemplated lines that are likely to
take shape in the near future, the most

promising are, first, two English projects —
one for a line from Hongkong, or rather
Kow-loon, to Canton, 120 miles, to connect
there with the American concession; and
one for a branch from Hang-chau westward
into Kiang-si, about 200 miles; and, second,
a Japanese line in the province of Fu-kien,
opposite the Japanese island of Formosa.

In style of con-
struction the Chi-
nese railways are
a compromise be-
tween European
and American
lines. They are
all single-track
lines, except the
division between
Tientsin and Pe-
king, The track is
of the American
type; the locomo-
tives are partly
American and
partly English;
and the cars, both
passenger and
freight, are an
adaptation of both
the American and
English patterns,
made to conform
with local condi-
tions, and to come
in their construction within the facilities
of local shops, for all the rolling stock, ex-
cept engines, is home-made. The gauge
is standard — four feet, eight and one-half
inches; and in this the Chinese lines differ
from those of the North, where the Rus-
sian gauge of five feet is found; and also
from those of the South, where they have
the double Indian system gauges of five feet,
six inches, and one meter. The early pro-
jectors wisely followed Mr. Kinder's advice,
and adopted what is now the all but univer-
sal gauge of the United States, Great Bri-
tain, and Continental Europe except Russia,
and will in the end undoubtedly be adopted
as the gauge of the world. The time will
come, and perhaps at no very distant day,
when it will be possible for a traveler to
start from, say, Paris, traverse North Eu-
rope by way of Berlin and Moscow ; thence
through Siberia ; south through Peking and
China; across India, Persia, and Asia Minor;
by car-ferry over the Bosphorus ; and thence
through Austria and the Tyrol to the place
of starting, without changing cars.

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A MILITARY OPnCER ON A JOURNEY.

The officer ie attended by two private*. This Is the ordinary
method of travel, even on military miseione.

RAILWAY DEVELOPMENT IN CHINA.

POLITICAL ASPECT
OF CHINESE RAIL-
WAY DEVELOP-
MENT.

Some of the rail-
way projects in
China are prompted
much more by poli-
tical than by com-
mercial motives.
As long as other
nations have a
foothold on Chi-
nese territory
under the thin
guise of ** leases,"
and either claim to
have a voice in the
administration of
affairs through
** spheres of influ-
ence** or are pos-
sessed with the
fear that other na-
tions may in some way secure special favors,
the various European powers will endeavor
to put themselves in advantageous positions,
.either to seize territory in the event of a
break-up, or to prevent some rival nation
from doing so. There exists a general be-
lief in China, which repeated authoritative de-
nials seem, curiously enough, to
strengthen, that Russian influence
was behind the Belgian syndicate
in procuring the railroad conces-
sion from Peking to Hankow, Rus-
sia's design being either to form
a through line some day from St.
Petersburg to the Yang-tze River,
or to have something to be offered
in trade for other concessions in
the North of more immediate bene-
fit to herself and of less threatening
aspect to Great Britain. This sup-
posed Russian *'move" was im-
mediately met by the English Cov-
ernment despatching two parties
to China under the charge of army
officers to prospect for a route for
a railway controlling the Yang-tze
valley, usually considered as Great
Britain's " sphere," and connecting
with the Burma system. One of
the lines projected follows up the
Yang-tze from Hankow to Chung-
king, and thence to Burma. The
other runs across the northwest
corner of Hu-nan, and through

THE "ROCKCT op china," THE HRST LOCOMOTIVE BUILT IN CHINA.

The "Rocket" was constructetl ia 1880-81 by C. W. Kinder, Engineer-in-Chie/ of the Im-
perial Ciiinene liailway, out of such material as he could surreptitiously get together, and was
put into successful service on a little tramway running to the Kaiping coal mines ; and this
was the real beginning of the steam railway in China. Mr. Kinder is shown in the picture
standing beside the engine.

Yun-nan, by a more direct route, to the
same objective. They would have a length
of about 1,700 and 1,550 miles respectively.
They could be supported only as a political
necessity, for while a part of each would
traverse a rich, productive, and remunera-
tive territory, neither as a whole would be

SECOND-CLASS ON THE IMPERIAL CHINESE RAILWAY.

Second-class passengers are usually carried in open cars resembling
an American coal car. As a Chinaman dislikes to be separated from his
baggage, he prefers to travel in a vehicle where he can keep his goods
beside him.

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248

RAILWAY DEVELOPMENT IN CHINA.

profitable for many years. The other nations
that have political interests at stake are Ger-
many» who appears to be content to develop
the resources of Shan-tung as a local ven-
ture, and France, who, branching out from
her Anam and the Tongking possessions, is
desirous somehow to reach across the Em-
pire and clasp hands with her Muscovite ally
in the north. No sadder thing could happen,
not only for China, but for the world at large,
than to have some such scheme of interfer-
ence or European division become a reality.

Whatever opposition there has been to rail-
way construction in China has come largely,
I believe, from the official class, who, fear-
ing that the new order of things might re-
duce their prerogatives or powers, have been
apathetic or have worked on the ignorant
superstitions of the people to bring them
into open antagonism. Now, however, they
either recognize the errors of the past or
realize that the time for change has come,
and are not in open opposition. The people
themselves will not obstruct. The employ-
ment of laborers and the distribution of
benefits will immediately dispel, as has been
found in the North, any lingering spirit of
hostility.

Small as the existing system is, it has
demonstrated that the Chinaman is quick
to grasp the benefits of the new mode of

conveyance, and will patronize it liberally
enough to pay interest on an investment
made in gold. The line between Tientsin
and Peking, eighty miles, although only three
years old, has gross earnings of over $5,100
in gold per mile, and is without any special
staple item of traffic such as coal. It car-
ried during the year 1898 over 350,000 pas-
sengers. And while the earnings are good
the charges are moderate. The passenger
rates per mile are, for first-class, one and
one-half cents, and for second-class three-
quarters of a cent; but the accommodations
provided for second-class passengers are
open gondola cars, such as with us are used
to transport coal. The freight rates vary
from one and one-fifth cents to two and one-
quarter cents per ton per mile.

The Chinaman does not travel at present
because the lack of facilities in the interior
prevents him ; but give him the opportunity,
and there is no one will excel him. The re-
ports to the Canton customs show that the
steamers between Hongkong and Canton
carry nearly 1,000,000 passengers annually,
and there is, in addition, a large travel by
junk. The railways of India and Japan
clearly show that the Oriental will patronize
liberally the better mode of conveyance.
What has been shown in these countries will
be shov/n also in China.

LEI-HO RIVER, A TRIBUTARY OP THE SIANG-KIANG.

We liave here a good illuntration of the difflcaltles of river navigation ; the junks in the picture are Mng poled jigainat a rapid
current, and the wrecks in the foreground ehow the existence of danger as well as c

.trr'^^Google

GEORGE MADDEN MARTIN

THE close of the first week of Emmy Lou's
second year at a certain large public
school found her round, chubby self, like a
pink-cheeked period, ending the long line of
intermingled little boys and girls making
what was known, twenty-five years ago, as
the First-Reader class. Emmy Lou had spent
her first year in the Primer class, where the
teacher. Miss Clara by name, had concealed
the kindliest of hearts behind a brusque and
energetic manner, and had possessed, along
with her red hair and a temper tinged with
that color also, a sharp voice that, by its
unexpected snap in attacking some small sin-
ner, had caused Emmy Lou's little heart to
jump many times a day. Here Emmy Lou
had spent the year in strenuously guiding a
squeaking pencil across a protesting slate,
or singing in chorus, as Miss Clara's long
wooden pointer went up and down the rows
of words on the spelling-chart: ** A-t, at;
b-a-t, bat; c-a-t, cat," or ** a-n, an; b-a-n,
ban; c-a-n, can." Emmy Lou herself had
so little idea of what it was all about, that
she was dependent on her neighbor to give
her the key to the proper starting-point
heading the various columns — ** a-t, at," or
**a-n, an," or *'e-t, et," or '' o-n, on";
after that it was easy sailing. But one
awful day, while the class stopped suddenly

at Miss Clara's warning finger as visitors
opened the door, Emmy Lx)u, her eyes
squeezed tight shut, her little body rocking
to and fro to the rhythm, went right on,
'* m-a-n, man," ** p-a-n, pan " — until at the
sound of her own sing-song little voice ris-
ing with appalling fervor upon the silence,
she stopped, to find that the page in the
meantime had been turned, and that the
pointer was directed to a column beginning
"o-y. oy."

Among other things incident to that first
year, too, had been Recess. At that time
everybody was turned out into a brick-paved
yard, the boys on one side of a high fence,
the girls on the other. And here, waiting
without the wooden shed where stood a row
of buckets each holding a shiny tin dipper,
Emmy Lou would stop on the sloppy out-
skirts for the thirst of the larger girls to be
assuaged, that the little girls' opportunity
might come — together with the dregs in the
buckets. And at Recess, too, along with the
danger of being run into by the larger girls
at play and having the breath knocked out
of one's little body, which made it necessary
to seek sequestered corners and peep out
thence, there was The Man to be watched for
and avoided— the low, square, black-browed,
black-bearded Man who brandished a broom^

250

A LITTLE FEMININE CASABIANCA,

at the little girls who dropped their apple-
cores and crusts on the pavements, and who
shook his fist at the jeering little boys who
dared to swarm to the forbidden top and sit
straddling the dividing fence. That Uncle
Michael, the janitor, was getting old and
had rheumatic twinges was ind^ Uncle
Michael's excuse, but Emmy Lou did not
know this, and her fear of Uncle Michael
was great accordingly.

But somehow the Primer year wore away;
and one day, toward its close, in the pres-
ence of Miss Clara, two solemn-looking gen-
tlemen requested certain little boys to cipher
and several little girls to spell, and sent
others to the blacklx)ard or the chart, while
to E!mmy Lou was handed a Primer, open at
Page 17, which she was told to read. Know-
ing Page 17 by heart, and identifying it by
its picture, Emmy Lou arose, and her small
voice droned forth in sing-song fashion :

How old are you, Sue ?
I am as old aa my cat.
And how old is your cat?
My cat is as old as my dog.
And how old is your dog?
My dog is as old as I am.

Having so delivered herself, Emmy Lou
sat down, not at all disconcerted to find that
she had been holding her Primer upside
down.

Following this, Enmiy Lou was told that
she had ''passed''; and seeing from the
jubilance of the other children that it was
a matter to be joyful over, Emmy Lou went
home and told the elders of her family that
she had passed. And these elders, three
aunties and an uncle (an uncle who was
disposed to look at Emmy Lou's chubby self
and her concerns in jocular fashion), laughed ;
and Emmy Lou went on wondering what it
was all about, which never would have been
the case had there been a mother among the
elders, for mothers have a way of under-
standing these things. But to Emmy Lou
** mother " had come to mean but a memory
which faded as it came, a vague conscious-
ness of encircling arms, of a brooding, ten-
der face, of yearning eyes ; and it was only
because they told her that Emmy Lou re-
membered how mother had gone away South,
one winter, to get well. That they after-
ward told her it was Heaven, in no wise con-
fused Emmy Lou, because, for aught she
knew. South and Heaven and much else might
be included in these points of the compass.
Ever since then Emmy Lou had lived with
the three aunties and the uncle; and papa

had been coming a hundred miles once a
month to see her.

When Emmy Lou went back to school for
the second year, she was told that she was
now in the First Reader. If her heart had
jumped at the sharp accents of Miss Gara,
it now grew still within her at the slow, aw-
ful enunciation of the Large Lady in black
bombazine who reigned over the department
of the First Reader, pointing her morals
with a heavy forefinger, before which Emmy
Lou's eyes lowered with every aspect of
conscious guilt. Nor did Emmy Lou dream
that the Large Lady, whose black bombazine
was the visible sign of a loss by death that
had made it necessary for her to enter the
school-room to earn a living, was finding the
duties incident to the First Reader almost
as strange and perplexing as Emmy Lou
herself.

Emmy Lou from the first day found her-
self descending steadily to the foot of the
class ; and there she remained until the aw-
ful day, at the close of the first week, when
the Large Lady, realizing perhaps that she
could no longer ignore such adherence to
that lowly position, made discovery that
while to Emmy Lou **d-o-g" might «peZ/
'' dog " and '* f-r-o-g " might speU *' frog,"
Emmy Lou could not find either on a printed
page, and,f urther, could not tell wherein they
differed when found for her; that, also,
Emmy Lou made her figure 8's by adding
one uncertain little o to the top of another
uncertain little o ; and that while Emmy Lou
might copy, in smeary columns, certain cab-
alistic signs off the blackboard, she could
not point them off in tens, hundreds, thou-
sands, or read their numerical values, to save
her little life. The Large Lady, sorely per-
plexed within herself as to the proper course
to be pursued, in the sight of the fifty-nine
other First-Readers pointed a condemning
forefinger at the miserable little object
standing in front of her platform, and said,
** You will stay after school, Emma Louise,
that I may examine further into your quali-
fications for this grade."

Now Emmy Lou had no idea what it meant
— '* examine further into your qualifications
for this grade." It might be the form of
punishment in vogue for the chastisement
of the members of the First Reader. But
*'stay after school" she did understand,
and her heart sank, and her little breast
heaved.

It was then past the noon recess. In
those days, in this particular city, school
closed at half -past one. At last^e bell ffr
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A LITTLE FEMININE CASABIANCA.

dismissal had rung. The I..arge Lady, arms
folded across her bombazine bosom, had
faced the class, and with awesome solemnity
had already enunciated, "Attention"; and
sixty little people had sat up straight, when

their departing footsteps along the bare cor-
ridors and down the echoing stairway com-
ing back like a knell to her sinking heart.
Then class after class from above marched
past the door and on its clattering way,

GUIDING A BQUEAKING PENOL ACROSS A PROTESTING SLATE.*

the door opened, and a teacher from the
floor above came in.

At her whispered confidence, the Large
Lady left the room hastily, while the strange
teacher, with a hurried '* one— two— three,
march out quietly, children," turned, and
followed her. And Emmy Lou, left sitting
at her desk, saw through gathering tears
the line of First-Readers wind around the
room and file out the door, the sound of

while voices from outside, shrill with the joy
of release, came up through the open win-
dows in talk, in laughter, together with the
patter of feet on the bricks. Then as these
familiar sounds grew fewer, fainter, farther
away, some belated footsteps went echoing
through the building, a door slammed some-
where— then -silence.

Emmy Lou waited. She wondered how
long it would be. There was watennelon at
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252

A LITTLE FEMININE CA8ABIANCA.

home.for dinner ; she had seen it borne in,
a great, striped promise of ripe and juicy
lusciousness, on the marketman's shoulder
before she came to school. And here a tear,
long gathering, splashed down the little pink
cheek.

Still that awesome personage presiding
over the fortunes of the First-Readers failed
to return. Perhaps this was '* the examina-
tion into — into — '' Emmy Lou could not re-
member what— to be left in this big, bare
room with the flies droning and humming in
lazy circles up near the ceiling. The for-
saken desks, with a forgotten book or slate
left here and there upon them, the pegs
around the walls empty of hats and bonnets,
the unoccupied chair upon the platform —
Emmy Lou gazed at these with a sinking
sensation of desolation, while tear followed
tear down her chubby face. And listening
to the flies and the silence, Emmy Lou be-
gan to long for even the Bombazine Pres-
ence, and dropping her quivering counte-
nance upon her arms folded upon the desk,
she sobbed aloud. But the time was long,
and the day was warm, and the sobs grew
slower, and the breath began to come in
long-drawn quivering sighs, and the next
Emmy Lou knew she was sitting upright.

trembling in every limb, and some one com-
ing up the stairs— she could hear the slow,
heavy footfalls, and a moment later she saw
The Man— the Recess Man, the low, black-
bearded, black-browed, scowling Man — with
the broom across his shoulder, reach the
hallway, and make toward the open doorway
of the First-Reader room. Emmy Lou held
her breath, stiffened her little body, and —
waited. But The Man pausing to light his
pipe, Emmy Lou, in the sudden respite thus
afforded, slid in a trembling heap beneath
the desk, and on hands and knees went
crawling across the floor. And as Uncle
Michael came in, a moment after, broom,
pan, and feather-duster in hand, the last
fluttering edge of a little pink dress was dis-
appearing into the depths of the big, empty
coal-box, and its sloping lid was lowering
upon a flaxen head and cowering little figure
crouched within. Uncle Michael having put
the room to rights, sweeping and dusting,
with many a rheumatic groan in accompani-
ment, closed the windows, and going out,
drew the door after him and, as was his
custom, locked it.

Meanwhile, at Emmy Lou's home the eld-
ers wondered. '* You don't know Emmy

SOUNDS GREW FEWER, PAINTER, FARTHER AWAY

A DOOR SLAMMED SOMEWHERE--THEN— SILENCE."

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A LITTLE FEMININE CASABIANCA.

253

*'WHAT YUU WANTER DO/ STATED THE SMALL BOY, ' IS FIND UNCLE MICHAEL; HE KEEPS THE KEYS.'

Lou/' Aunt Cordelia, round, plump, and
cheery, insisted to the lady visitor spend-
ing the day; *' Emmy Lou never loiters."

Aunt Katie, the prettiest auntie, cut off
a thick round of melon as they arose from
the table, and put it in the refrigerator for
Emmy Lou. ** It seems a joke," she re-
marked, ** such a baby as Emmy Lou going
to school, anyhow; but then she has only a
square to go and come."

But Emmy Lou did not come. And by
half-past two Aunt Louise, the youngest
auntie, started out to find her. But as she
stopped on the way at the houses of all the
neighbors to inquire, and ran around the
corner to Cousin Tom Macklin's to see if
Emmy Lou could be there, and then, being

but a few doors off, went on around that cor-
ner to Cousin Amanda's, the school-house,
when she finally reached it, was locked up,
with the blinds down at every front window
as if it had closed its eyes and gone to sleep.
Uncle Michael had a way of cleaning and
locking the front of the building first, and
going in and out at the back doors. But
Aunt Louise did not know this, and, anyhow,
she was sure that she would find Emmy Lou
at home when she got there.

But Emmy Lou was not at home, and it
being now well on in the afternoon. Aunt
Katie and Aunt Louise and the lady visitor
and the cook all started out in search, while
Aunt Cordelia sent the house-boy down-town
for Uncle Charlie. Just as Uncle Charlie

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254

A LITTLE FEMININE CASABIANCA.

arrived — and it was past five o'clock by then
— some of the children of the neighborhood,
having found a small boy living some squares
off who confessed to being in the First
Reader with Emmy Lou, arrived also, with
the small boy in tow.

''She didn't know 'dog' fi^om 'frog'
when she saw 'em," stated the small boy
with the derision of superior ability, **an'
teacher, she told her to stay after school.
She was settin' there in her desk when school
let out, Emmy Lou was."

But a big girl of the neighborhood ob-
jected. " Her teacher went home the min-
ute school was out," she declared. " Isn't
the new lady, Mrs. Samuels, your teacher ? "
this to the small boy. " Well, her daugh-
ter, Hattie, she's in my room, and she was
sick, and her mother came up to our room
and took her home. Our teacher, she went
down and dismissed the First-Readers."

" I don't care if she did," retorted the
small boy. " I reckon I saw Emmy Lou
settin' there when we come away."

Aunt Cordelia, pale and tearful, clutched
Uncle Charlie's arm. "Then she's there.
Brother Charlie, locked up in that dreadful
place— my precious baby "

" Pshaw! " said Uncle Charlie.

But Aunt Cordelia was wringing her hands.
" You don't know Emmy Lou, Charlie. If
she was told to stay, she has stayed. She's
locked up in that dreadful place. What
shall we do, my baby, my precious baby "

Aunt Katie was in tears. Aunt Louise in
tears, the cook in loud lamentation, Aunt
Cordelia fast verging upon hysteria.

The small boy from the First Reader, legs
apart, hands in knickerbocker pockets,
gazed at the crowd of irresolute elders with

scornful wonder. " What you wanter do,"
stated the small boy, " is find Uncle Michael ;
he keeps the keys. He went past my house
a while ago, going home. He lives in Rose
Lane Alley. 'Tain't much outer my way,"
condescendingly; "I'll take you there."
And meekly they followed in his footsteps.

It was dark when a motley throng of un-
cle, aunties, visiting lady, neighbors, and
children went climbing the cavernous, echo-
ing stairway of the dark school building be-
hind the toiling figure of the skeptical Uncle
Michael, lantern in hand.

" Ain't I swept over every inch of this
here school-house myself and carried the
trash outten a dust-pan ? " grumbled Uncle
Michael, with what inference nobody just
then stopped to inquire. Then with the air
of a mistreated, aggrieved person who feels
himself a victim, he paused before a certain
door on the second floor, and fitted a key in
its lock. " Here it is then. No. 9, to sat-
isfy the lady," and he flung open the door.
The light of Uncle Michael's lantern fell full
upon the wide-eyed, terror-smitten person
of Emmy Lou, in her desk, awaiting, her mis-
erable little heart knew not what horror.

" She — she told me to stay," sobbed Emmy
Lou in Aunt Cordelia's arms, " and I stayed ;
and the Man came, and I hid in the coal-
box!"

And Aunt Cordelia, holding her close,
sobbed too, and Aunt Katie cried, and Aunt
Louise and the lady visitor cried, and Uncle
Charlie passed his plump white hand over
his eyes, and said, "Pshaw!" And the
teacher of the First Reader, when she heard
about it next day, cried hardest of them all,
so hard that not even Aunt Cordelia could
cherish a feeling against her.

riNis

>>;jt-

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AN UNWRITTEN CHAPTER IN AMERICAN DIPLOMACY.

By a. Maurice Low,

American Corregpondent of the " London Chronicle.'*

ONTRARYto the general opin-
ion of the people of the United
States, the present Anglo-
American ententewsB not born
in the stress of the Spanish
War. It came into being
three years earlier, in the
travail of the Venezuelan
affair, and was due to a group
of circumstances produced
by political necessity and
death. The chief of these circumstances
were the appointment of Judge Gresham as
Secretary of State and Thomas F. Bayard
as Minister to England, the death of Judge
Gresham, and the appointment of Richard
Olney as Gresham's successor.

When Mr. Cleveland came into office for
the second time, in 1892, Mr. Bayard was
there to be provided for. In the previous
administration he had served as Secretary
of State. The Bayard who was a power in
the Senate, whose name was a tower of
strength with his party, who had been a
foremost candidate for the Democratic nom-
ination for, the Presidency, had, at the re-
quest of Mr. Cleveland, left the Senate to
become the premier of the administration.
Much was expected from him ; his appoint-
ment as Secretary of State inspired great
confidence. His administration as minister
of foreign affairs was a failure. Now for
the second time he was waiting for an oflSce.
He could not be put back into the State
Department; he did not particularly de-
sire it. There was only one post that
his rank, his attainments, and his dignity
would permit him to take— the mission to
the Court of St. James— and he was duly ap-
pointed.

Political exigencies compelled Mr. Cleve-
land to make Judge Gresham his Secretary
of State, than which no more unsuitable ap-
pointment could have been made. A man of
high character, of great ability, of sound
legal attainments, he would have made an
admirable Attorney-General or Secretary of
the Interior ; in fact, he could have filled suc-

cessfully almost any place except that which
political necessities forced the President to
ask him to accept. He was by training and
by temperament unsuited to deal with for-
eign questions or the representatives of for-
eign governments, and he allowed the min-
ister to England to take his own course.
Unfortunately, it was one highly offensive to
the American people. Mr. Bayard in Lon-
don as the ambassador of the United States
to the Court of St. James was living the
life he loved best. He was making speeches,
speeches somewhat pedantic and somewhat
too redundant with classical quotations for
this matter-of-fact age, but effusive in com-
pliments to England and Englishmen, and
eloquent with dreams of the brotherhood of
man and of perpetual concord between the
two great branches of the Anglo-Saxon race.
His popularity was great in l^gland ; but in
the United States ^lere was an outburst of
rage at Mr. Bayarcr s demonstrative friend-
liness, the House of Representatives even
passing a vote in censure of his conduct.

Most dreams are shattered by a shock. So
was Mr. Bayard's. Gresham, Secretary of
State, was dead; Olney, Attorney-General,
became his successor. Olney was the an-
tithesis of Gresham. Gresham, born in the
West, a self-made man who had followed the
plow in his youth, was a typical specimen of
the West, and even in Washington, while
receiving ambassadors in the State Depart-
ment, he suggested the Western judge.
Olney was the type of New England, the
New England to which we owe so much.
The acknowledged leader of the Boston bar,
highly educated, with cultivated tastes,
brusque on the surface, but with a nature
almost womanly in its sympathies; keenly
analytical, superbly courageous, tenacious,
introspective, and somewhat cynical, with
the contempt a great mind has for men of
small minds with small ambitions; by right
of office to be regarded as a political leader,
and yet despising the petty art of petty poli-
ticians—there could be no greater contrast
than that between him and his predecessor.

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THE HON. JOHN HAY, SECRETARY OF STATE.
From a photograph by Mias Francea Benjamin Johnaton.

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AN UNWRITTEN CHAPTER IN AMERICAN DIPLOMACY.

257

Between him and Mr. Bayard, too, there
could be nothing in common.

To Mr. Olney, as Attorney-General, Presi-
dent Cleveland had referred the long-standing
dispute between Venezuela and Great Brit-
ain concerning the boundary. Properly the
work of the State Department, it had been
placed in the hands of the Attorney-General
because of the President's confidence in his
judgment, his legal ability, and his impar-
tiality. Mr. Olney was convinced that Vene-
zuela had, to say the least, *' a case," the
merits of which should be pas$ed upon by a
competent tribunal. The matter was still
before him when he left the Department of
Justice to assume charge of the State De-
partment. At once he took up the subject
vigorously. He was resolved that Great
Britain should submit her pretensions to arbi-
tration and abide by the result.

Of a celebrated despatch written by Mr.
Olney in his capacity as Secretary of State,
and an equally celebrated message sent by
Mr. Cleveland to Congress, little need be
said. England was astounded ; possibly not
more so than America. There was much
excitement in high official circles, many con-
sultations of ministers, much diplomatic cor-
respondence, some talk even of squadrons
being mobilized. But of all the men amazed
and angered there was none to compare with
Mr. Bayard. At first he could hardly be-
lieve his senses : this to be the result of all
his -fine speeches ; this to be the end of his
Anglo-Saxon brotherhood ; and then he saw
it all. There were elections coming on : the
patriotic heart must be fired ; it was a time-
honored expedient to fire the patriotic heart
by making faces at England. Mr. Bayard's
equanimity was restored. He was ambassa-
dor of the United States to Great Britain,
He must officially do the bidding of the State
Department and communicate unwelcome
despatches to the Foreign Office, but unoffi-
cially he could assure his friends that the
Americans were an unruly people and must not
be taken too seriously. The thunder was loud,
it was unpleasant, but it could do no harm.
There was fury in Washington. If ever
man was in deadly earnest it was Richard
Olney. He knew the seriousness of his un-
dertaking before he had embarked upon it,
he had counted its cost, and his efforts were
in danger of being thwarted by the excessive
amiability of Mr. Bayard. Worst of all, he
could do nothing. To recall Mr. Bayard
spelled scandal; more calamitous even, it
would have brought the negotiations to a
pause and involved delay, and that was the

very thing Mr. Olney was anxious to avoid ;
there had already been too much delay, and
time was pressing. Clearly Mr. Bayard must
be rendered harmless without his knowledge.

Enter upon the scene another actor, com-
bining with the savdr-fcire of Bayard the
insistence and determination and the clear,
far-seeing vision of Olney. John Hay, at one
time private secretary to President Lincoln,
soldier, diplomatist, poet, man of letters, and
above all things man of the world, who knows
men, their virtues and their vices, became
an unofficial ambassador of the United States
to the Court of St. James. Never before
in the history of our diplomacy has such an
appointment been made; never before was
a man entrusted with such a delicate task.

To be a successful ambassador — that is,
an accredited ambassador— requires great
tact, great judgment, the iron hand must
always be concealed by the velvet glove,
even speech must be velvet. How much
greater then the obstacles to be overcome
by an ambassador who has no official stand-
ing, who can only hope to achieve results by
persuasion, and argument, and appeal? He
could not stultify his government by casting
odium on Mr. Bayard ; he could not magnify
himself at the expense of Mr. Bayard. All
he could do as a private citizen, an admirer
of England while none the less firmly con-
vinced of the justice of the position taken
by his country, was to impress upon his Eng-
lish friends the foolishness of quarreling
with their cousins across the sea. And be-
cause he was a private citizen he could talk
with men of all parties and all shades of
opinion. He was as acceptable to the great
conservative leaders, like Lord Salisbury and
Arthur Balfour and Mr. Chamberlain, as he
was to influential men one step below, like
Mr. Curzon, then Lord Salisbury's mouth-
piece in the Commons ; or Liberal leaders, like
John Morley or Sir W. Harcourt. Among
the press. Buckle, the editor of the ** Times,"
and Moberly Bell, its manager, representing
the Conservative thought of England, lis-
tened to him as eagerly as did Henry Mas-
singham and Henry Norman, of the ** Chron-
icle, ' ' the exponent of Radicalism. Mr. Hay
urged that better terms could be obtained
from the Cleveland administration than from
that of President McKinley, who he felt sure
was to be elected ; he urged that it would
be wise to settle the dispute before Mr.
McKinley came into office. Mr. Hay im-
pressed upon his friends that, unfortunately,
in this instance, the United States were not
engaged in merely the pleasant little elec-

258

AN UNWRITTEN CHAPTER IN AMERICAN DIPLOMACY.

tion pastime of making faces to terrify Eng-
land. Words meant all that they said. Mr.
Hay had assistance, very able assistance, bat
there are reasons why other names should
not be mentioned. Mr. Bayard was titular
ambassador only. Mr. Olney was informed
as to the real state of public opinion in Eng-
land, not through Mr. Bayard, but through
other channels. The negotiations were re-
moved to Washington, and carried on between
Mr. Olney and the British ambassador, Lord
(then Sir Julian) Pauncefote.

In an extremity Prance supplied us with a
friend, and the name of Lafayette is prop-
erly held in grateful remembrance. When
time has given proper perspective to events,
America will learn how much it owes to Lord
Pauncefote of Preston, how great the value
of his friendship. Loyal to his crown and
government, he was none the less loyal to
America ; in serving England he served the
United States : his strong brain, his sense of
justice, and his love for the country where
he had resided for so many years saved us
from humiliation, possibly worse, in a great
crisis. He will be heard from again before
this chapter is written.

It was no time for compliments and dreams.
Iron was striking against iron. When men
like Hay and Salisbury, Olney and Paunce-
fote come together, out of the metal of in-
tellectuality will be forged the steel of right
and progress. The air was cleared, and it
did not take '* a whiff of grape '* to blow the
haze away. Both sides were the better for
it. In England the man in the street had a
dim idea that the blooming Yankees had
** cheeked " him once more; but in Govern-
ment circles, among the men who rule Eng-
land, there was respect for American cour-
age and diplomacy; there was satisfaction
thiett the two nations could so easily settle
their disputes. On this side it was not with-
out beneficial results. Mr. Olney entered
the State Department not without that pre-
judice against England which exists nowhere
80 strongly as it does in New England. Eng-
land's sense of justice and her anxiety to
advance the cause of civilization left an
impress upon him, and in an address which
he made after he ceased to be Secretary of
State he bore handsome tribute to all that
England has done in proclaiming liberty.

This was the germ of the entente. When
Mr. Olney wrote his memorable despatch —
one of the most important of state papers,
no less remarkable for its lofty tone than its
perfect literary style— little did he dream of
the service England was so soon to render

his country. When Mr. Hay was urging
upon his friends in England the expediency
of ending an annoying incident, he could
have hardly contemplated the next time when
he should again appeal to England's love of
justice. Christian virtues and the Golden
Rule still exist— in Downing Street. Vene-
zuela might have rankled in the breast of a
small man or a nation doubtful of its own
strength. Not so in the case of Lord Salis-
bury voicing England.

Mr. McKinley knew when he was elected
President he could not escape from the
responsibilities of the ** Cuban situation.'*
Anxious for peace, anxious to do anything
that might properly be done to prevent war,
the sum of all equations was Cuba. Once
again John Hay was called in. Mr. McKin-
ley at that time had devoted little thought
to the study of foreign affairs ; his knowl-
edge of European politics was rudimentary.
Mr. Hay, diplomatist by training, familiar
with world politics, saw at once that, if the
United States were to successfully wage war
against Spain, Spain must be isolated. To
prevent a Spanish alliance was the task of
diplomacy. England, mistress of the seas,
could make or mar an alliance. And be-
cause of that, because London was of even
more importance than Washington, Mr. Hay,
instead of entering the State Department
and becoming premier, went to London once
more to make his diplomacy a potent weapon
for his country's good.

Personally welcome in England, the times
were in favor of the success of Mr. Hay's
mission. The British Government as it was
constituted in 1898 (and it is the same
cabinet to-day) was strongly pro- American.
Lord Salisbury, the premier, has a profound
admiration for America. * ' He is, " to quote
a distinguished servant of the crown who
speaks with authority, ** impressed with the
grandeur of America, the remarkable energy
of the Americans, and the great future which
lies open to them." Mr. Arthur Balfour, the
premier's nephew. First Lord of the Treasury
and Government leader in the House, his
uncle's confidant, may find distraction in
politics and writing books on theology, but
if he has a serious passion for anything, it is
golf — and America. Mr. Chamberlain, Sec-
retary of State for Colonial Affairs, has shown
his devotion to America by taking to wife a
daughter of Massachusetts, descended from
one of the oldest Puritan families. Mr. Hay
was assured of a sympathetic reception.

In those anxious days before w^ar was de-
clared, but when it was evident>to all E^-
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259

rope that the sword could no longer remain
sheathed, the fate of the United States hung
for one moment trembling in the balance.
It was proposed by Russia to England that,
in the interest of peace and to avert the war
which could not be averted in any other way,
Spain should be induced to sell or exchange
Cuba, which England would find useful to
round out her West Indian possessions, while
Spain would voluntarily yield her territory
rather than risk its loss by conquest. Any
objection on the part of the United States
that the further acquisition of territory by
Great Britain in the western hemisphere
would be in contravention of the Monroe
Doctrine was to be met by the knowledge
that Russia countenanced the transfer, which
would be the notification to the United States
that if they meant to resist it, Russia as well
as England would have to be reckoned with.
Germany's acquiescence was to be secured;
the passivity of France was pledged by Rus-
sia. This Mephi&tophelian plot failed be-
cause Lord Salisbury would not play the role
of Faust. He feared the gifts which the
Muscovite offered him. Emphatically and
distinctly the English premier caused it to
be known that the Cuban question concerned
the United States and Spain alone; that it
was a matter with which no other nation had
any concern ; that if they fought, England
would preserve strict neutrality, and in pre-
serving this neutrality, the Russian ambassa-
dor was pointedly informed on one occasion,
England should expect all the other nations
to observe the obligations of neutrality. So
the plot failed, and the opportunity to involve
England with the United States was lost.

The attitude of England tilted the scale.
Spain had appealed to Austria, naturally
sympathetic because of family relations, and
Austria had in turn sounded her partners in
the Dreibund — Germany and Italy — only to
find that the German Emperor was too cau-
tious to risk everything on such a desperate
chance ; while Italy, traditionally friendly to
England, would hear none of it. France
was next appealed to. The old noble fami-
lies of France and Spain are closely related ;
the Paris Bourse deals largely in Spanish
securities, and, despite the legend of tradi-
tional friendship, FVance has no real affec-
tion for the American people. France con-
sulted Russia, with the result already known,
and Spain's last hope was gone.

From this time on the action was rapid.
Mr. Hay, so soon as he learned that Spain
was isolated, that in all the world she could
find neither ally nor support, so informed

his government in Washington ; and when his
despatch was received, President McKinley
felt safe in embarking on a policy which
inevitably could have but one conclusion —
Spain must either yield to all of the demands
of the United States or else she must be
prepared to resist at the risk of war.

Poor Spain ! Humiliated, baffled, deserted ;
crushed by her own folly and dishonesty ; still
striving to avert the day of doom ; clinging
as ever to delusions, she still thought she
saw a single chance for salvation. Her min-
ister in Washington, a man with a supple
mind, very adroit, accomplished in all the
arts of diplomacy, understanding thoroughly
the temper of the people among whom he
lived; knowing that the United States did
not want war, but were being actually forced
into it; knowing that their influential men
were trying to avert war, conceived the
brilliant idea that where the chancellors of
Europe had failed their ministers might be
more successful. In Washington there was
a conference of the powers. The ambassa-
dors met at the French embassy to see what
they could do to prevent war. Could they
act as mediators and save the peace of
Europe ? There was talk of a note which
should have all the force and effect of a re-
straining order and make the litigants give
sureties for their good behavior. Here again
the European coalition found an unexpected
obstacle. The British ambassador would not
lend himself to any scheme which would in
any way humiliate or embarrass the United
States. He was in favor of preventing war,
if war could be prevented without injuring
the amour propre of the United States, but
he was sternly set against defeating the ob-
jects which the United States had in view —
the house-cleaning in the West Indies which
had been so long deferred that they had be-
come a stench in the nostrils of all decent
men. The attitude of Sir Julian Pauncefote
caused a halt, and the ambassadors had to
communicate with their governments for
further instructions.

When these pourparlers were initiated, the
British ambassador subordinated himself ; but
as the scheme unfolded itself, and the am-
bassadors saw that Great Britain again held
the key to the position, very properly a
change of venue was taken, and the succeed-
ing conferences were held at the British
embassy. And with the change of scene
the situation clearly developed. Sir Julian
Pauncefote, to whom Lord Salisbury had
given carte blanche in the carrying on of the
negotiations, announced so clearly the posi-

260

AN UNWRITTEN CHAPTER IN AMERICAN DIPLOMACY,

tion of his government that it could not be
mistaken. His government, he said in ef-
fect, would join with the other powers in
representing to the President its desire to
s«e bloodshed averted, but not one step fur-
ther would it go. It was that or nothing.
If the other powers were not satisfied, Great
Britain would immediately withdraw. And
when that had been said and done, Sir Julian
did a thing remarkable in the history of di-
plomacy. Before he would consent to for-
mally join his colleagues inmaking their views
known to the American Government, he in-
formed the President of what had been done
and asked whether it would be embarrassing
to him to receive the harmless representa-
tions of the ambassadors; and when assured
that it would not cause embarrassment, Sir
Julian consented to unite with his colleagues
in the presentation of a collective note.

What followed we all know, because it was
made public at the time ; what Spain thought
of it is known only to a few persons. The
Spanish legation in Washington had watched
every move with absorbing interest, as it
was realized there if nowhere else that the
cards were being dealt on the table face up.
When Spain knew that the last effort had
failed, that Britain had wrecked the con-
cert, a member of the Spanish legation, by
descent an Englishman, although by birth
and training Spanish, threw up his hands and
said: *' We are beaten by England. I used
to be proud of my English descent. From
this time on I repudiate England, I want no
more of her. Curse her."

The thunder of Dewey's guns silenced the
voice of diplomacy ; but although diplomacy
was voiceless, its eyes were keen. In Spain,
at Gibraltar, in London, in Hongkong, wher-
ever, indeed, British diplomatic or military
or naval officers were stationed, the laws of
neutrality were violated a dozen times a day
in the cause of friendship. Little went on
of use to the United States which came to
the foreign or war offices in London but
it was promptly communicated to this gov-
ernment. A separate chapter might be writ-
ten on the diplomatic history of Manila Bay;
of the orders which were sent to Captain
Chichester of H. M. S. "Powerful''; to
Admiral Diederichs, the German flag officer;
of the despatches which passed between Ad-
miral Dewey and the Navy Department ; of
the motives which induced him to cable the
Washington Government to send him forth-
with the "Oregon," for political effect.
Those times are still too recent for the
whole truth to be told.

Diplomacy spoke again when Spain,brought
to her knees, sued for peace, and the United
States sent commissioners to Paris to ar-
range the terms. When the American com-
missioners left Washington, two of them at
least were resolutely determined not to be
involved in the acquisition of the Philippines;
there was one to whom, as he was departing,
a very prominent American statesman said:
** Whatever you do, don't be persuaded into
keeping the Philippines," and the answer of
this commissioner was: '* Whatever I do, I
shall not agree to keep the Philippines. ' ' But
menmustfiSjust themselves to circumstances.
When the commissioners opened their nego-
tiations in Paris they quickly learned that
Spain was once more trying to escape pay-
ing the penalty of her folly, even as before
the war she had rushed heaidlong to her fate.
The situation was critical in the extreme.
Realizing then for the first time that the
Philippines were lost to her, Spain would
willingly have given them to any other power,
England excepted, rather than sell them to
the United States. Again the usual tactics
of Spanish diplomacy were employed. Rus-
sia, France, and (lermany were appealed to,
Spain's theory being that, if one of these
powers took the islands, the United States
would have to look to the new owner for a
settlement and not to her. Of all the powers
to whom the appeal was made Germany was
most inclined to yield to it. The possession
of the Philippines was in line with her new
policy of colonization, and it would have
fitted in amazingly well with her purpose to
obtain a foothold in China. Bismarck is
dead, but his doctrine o{ doutdes still lives.
Germany would willingly have squared France
and her ally Russia to obtain the islands of
the Pacific ; but there was England still' to
be reckoned with, and England appreciated
as keenly as the American commissioners
then did how perilously near they were sail-
ing to the rocks. To have backed out from
the Philippines then, to have surrendered
them because Germany demanded them, to
have been robbed of the fruits of victory as
Japan had been forced to see the prize
snatched from her grasp by a European co-
sdition, would have put the United States in
the category of a second-rate power and de-
stroyed their prestige for the next half cen-
tury. It would have been the admission to
the world that, while the United States were
able to grapple with and destroy a decadent,
enervated nation like Spain, when a nation
of the first magnitude spoke, when Russia
growled, or France snarled, or Germany blus^

AN UNWRITTEN CHAPTER IN AMERICAN DIPLOMACY,

261

tered, the United States quailed and yielded
like China or any other of the little nations.
That would have been humiliation worse than
the defeat of battle.

The machinations of Spain and her quon-
dam allies were rendered powerless by the
firm stand again assumed by England. Eng-
land caused it to be once more known that
the settlement of the Cuban question, like
its beginning, was a purely American ques-
tion, with which no other nation except Spain
had any interest; and that unless the United
States volantarily surrendered their rights to
the Philippines, no other power had the right
of interference. Nations, like individuals, are
not entirely swayed by altruism, and Eng-
land's objects at this time were not without
a shade of selfishness. Had Germany or
France or Russia acquired the Philippines,
the balance of power in the far East would
have been disturbed ; war even might have
been precipitated. England was fighting for
the open door in China. She did not want
a military ally, but she welcomed a commer-
cial ally, one who like herself would stand
for commercial equality and commercial fair-
ness in the Orient. Mr. Hay had devoted
many years of his life to a study of the Chi-
nese question, and had long recognized the
necessity of the United States retaining their
hold on the markets of China. In the set-
tlement of the Spanish War he saw this op-
portunity. He forcibly recommended to the
President that the Philippines be not surren-
dered ; and when the European powers saw
that the United States were in earnest in their
intention to remain an Eastern power, and
when these same European powers calmly
surveyed the field and saw that any attempt
to oust the United States would bring Eng-
land's matchless navy upon their backs, for
the second time in less than a year they left
poor deluded Spain to her fate, and the end
was written in history.

Diplomacy is tergiversation. The peace
of nations sometimes hangs upon a word.
Of the intrigues, the cabals, the schemes
which marked the year 1898, annus miroMlis
in American history, no word has ever been
made public by men whose words have the
weight of authority. History is not written
by the living; it is garnered from the dead
long after their voices have been stilled.
The historian, at the end of the fia^t quarter
of the new century, will probably give to the
world the diplomacy of the. war as revealed
by the offieial documents, the letters and
despatches of the men who made the history
of that year. Then shall we and our chil-

dren know of those things which only now
can be hinted at, but chance sometimes lifts
a corner of the past and throws a light on
the future. In the Senate last January,
when a motion was offered that the Presi-
dent be requested to send to that body the
instructions which he gave to the Peace
Commissioners and the correspondence which
passed between them, the motion was re-
jected because of the statements made by
senators, who spoke with authority, that
the publication of this correspondence might
be embarrassing to other governments ; and
then, to prevent discussion in public, a motion
was made to further consider the matter in
secret session. The proceedings of a secret
session are supposed to be secret ; I say sup-
posed advisedly, because, while no ofiicial re-
port is made, tilieir substance is always known
to the initiated in Washington. On that day,
January 16th last. Senator Davis, chairman
of the committee on foreign relations and
one of the commissioners who negotiated the
treaty of peace with Spain, than whom there
can be no more competent authority, told
the Senate that, had the United States not
taken the Philippines, there was every reason
to believe Germany would have taken such
islands as suited her colonial policy.

This very briefly, very crudely, very frag-
mentarily is a sketch of one phase of our
diplomacy before and after the war with
Spain. It explains in a measure why those
in authority have now, as they have had for
the last two years, a feeling of gratitude to-
ward England ; it explains how, when in our
extremity we needed a friend, the only friend
we found was England, who stood by us loy-
ally, manfully, and courageously, braving the
displeasure of all the world because of the
ties of blood ; it explains why there is to-day
a solidarity of the English-speaking people :
a union stronger, better, more powerful than
any other union the world has before known ;
which does not exist by the favor of treaties
or the grace of rulers, but which has come
into being because it is a union that makes
for the peace, the progress, the civilization
of the world ; which lends encouragement to
the peoples still struggling for liberty and
who know that to the Anglo-Saxon they must
look for their inspiration and their deliver-
ance.

So long: as the Blood endures,

I shall know that your good is mine ; ye shall feel that

my strength is yours :
In the days of Armageddon, at the last great fight of all,
That Our House stand together and the pillars do not

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^W¥\[\F\ fFii ''roc

DOES IT GET WEIGHED?
OR "YET WADE?

UNCERTAINTY OF MANY SCHOOLJ'CHILDREN VPOS THE SUBJECT

Bt Marion Hill.

FEW nights ago, at a home
dinner party, one gentleman
present, having occasion to
quote a few lines of
'* America," bungled amaz-
ingly, as is usual in such at-
tempts, and had finally to
desist through ignorance. Seeking for
help among his fellows, he found that
they, too, knew but little more of the
song than the opening lines. Amidst
the comments aroused by this not un-
precedented incident, the host's ten-
year-old daughter volunteered to help
the big folks out, and did so by cor-
262

rectly reciting all the verses. In response
to flattering questions, she said that she had
been taught the song at school. With par-
donable pride she added, ** I will write it
for you, if you like.''

Of course we liked, and we furnished
her with quieting paper and pencil; and
then straightway began to forget her in our
vigorous volleys of praise anent the whole-
heartedness of public-school education. But
she again brought herself to notice by
shortly presenting us with the following
lines, very prettily written, and, as may be
seen, intelligently titled and put into verse
form:

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268

AMERICA.

My country, tissuf the
Sweet land of libaet tea,

Of thee I sing.
Land where my father died,
Land where the Pilgrims pried,
From ev'ry mountain side,

Let fridmen ring.

My native country the
Land of the noble free.

Thy name I love.
I love thy rots and chills.
Thy woods and temper pills,
My heart with ratcher thrills

Like that above.

Mingled with our amusement was conster-
nation, for this little girl was not only more
than ordinarily intelligent, but was also a re-
markably good speller, and when she wrote
" rots and chills," she most certainly meant
nothing less than the indicated putrefactions
and ague.

In connection with what follows, this point
of spelling is an important one to note. Had
the child been stupid and backward, her ren-
dering of **My country" would have been
no menace to patriotism, for when a little
American bubbles over in hymns to liberty,
and means liberty even while writing '* libaet
tea," the moral exaltation is not impaired
in the least; but this child knew enough
to spell liberty correctly, had she wanted
to use the word. It behooved us, then, to
find out what on earth she did mean ; so
to that end we questioned her, and in giv-
ing her replies, we call attention to their
unfailing intelligence and directness, even
where she was most at fault.

''WhatisMibaettea'?"

"One of our imports, I guess, from
China."

** And what is* tissuf?"

"I don't know."

** What do you think it is?"

*' Maybe it is to fill out the line. Poetry

has something that is called meter ; maybe
* tissuf* makes the right meter."
*' What do you mean by * pried ' ? "
** Why, pry means to come where you
are not asked to come!" This with a
tinge of pity for the ignorance that could
ask such a question.

*' Then the Pilgrims pried into America ? "
** Yes, I think so. Nobody invited them."
''What is 'fridmen'?"
* * I don't know. I have thought that over,
and can't make any sense to it."

" Why do you love * rots and chills ' ? "
"I don't."

'* But you say here that you do,"
" Oh, / don't say it; it's the poetry says
that."

** Well, what does the poetry mean by
it?"

** 1 think it means that we must forgive a
great many unpleasant things about our
country, and say we like them .just out of
politeness."

'' What are * temper pills '? "
** Pills for temper, don't you think ? "
** Did you ever see any such pills ? "
" No. Did you ? But I'd like to have
some."

"Why?"

No answer to this except a half-shy,
half-wicked little smile toward her parents.
•'What is 'ratcher'?"
" I really don't know."
" Haven't you any idea ? "
" Yes, it sounds like a disease."
"How so?"

" It says, ' like that above '—and there
are chills a few lines above; and thrills
are a sort of chills anyhow. I looked it up
in my dictionary."

" This is truly wonderful ! " we gasped ;

and as a reward for the tribute we were

invited to attend her school on the morrow,

because it would be '* patriotic Friday," and

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264

THE STAR-SPANOLED BANNER,

we could hear them ** speak pieces, sing war
songs, salute the flag, and tslk patriotic
things."

Her invitation was too rich in suggestion
to resist entirely, and we did visit a school
on the "patriotic" morrow; but deciding
that our little friend's school had already
spoken for itself, we visited another.

A class of about fifty clean, bright-eyed,
wriggling boys and girls appeared perfectly
charmed at being asked to perform their
patriotic exercises, and executed them with
a vim and thoroughness very creditable to
themselves and to their teacher. They sang
as many as a dozen patriotic songs; they
knew more about Dewey, Sampson, Schley,
and Hobson than those heroes know them-
selves; they recited more historical facts
about George Washington than could be be-
guiled out of an ordinary man at the point
of a pistol (one little girl essayed the life of
Theodore Roosevelt, but being unable to keep
the lightning-rod and electricity and a kite
out of her narrative, sat down bathed in
tears); they gave quotations in prose and
poetiy inculcating love of country ; and, with
especial ardor, they united in a pretty cere-
mony which they called ** S'lutin' the Flag."
The teacher conducted this salute by succes-
sive taps of her hand-bell. Tap one, and a
curly-haired lassie mounted the platform and
unfurled Old Glory ; tap two, and the entire
class sprang to their feet as one child ; tap
three, and every hand made a military salute
to the accompaniment of the rousing words,
*' We give our heads and our hearts to our
country. One country, one language, one
flag! " At the final word every little right
hand was raised, the forefinger pointing
to the Stars and Stripes. This statuesque
pose was sustained until a last tap relaxed
the tense muscles and gave signal for the

little ones to drop back into their seats. It
brought a choke into the throat to see it.

But the demon of investigation was abroad,
and refused to be throttled by sentiment.
^^ Children, this has been very interesting;
so interesting that I want to ask you some
questions about it. For instance, you say
that you give your heads to your country :
now will one of you tell me how you do
that?"

Not immediately. Smiles faded, and a
pall settled over the community. At last,
one grimy paw waved tentatively.

"Well?"

" We could cut our heads off and give
them that way."

The gloom deepened when this answer
turned out to be amiss, and all thought des-
perately. Another paw waved. "What is
your answer, little m8,n ? "

" We must keep our heads inside of a car
window."

This answer seemed so to satisfy the class
that it was cruelty to disabuse them. But
it had to be done. Anotlier period of hor-
rified reflection ensued, out of which ven-
tured two guesses :

" I could give my head to my country by
letting some one put a bullet into it."

" I give my head to my country by put-
ting ray hand to my head in the sMute.''

The rejection of these advances created
such a weakness among the children that
total dissolution was threatened, but a big,
handsome boy in the rear saved the day.
He was a very big boy, the class dunce prob-
ably ; one of those chaps who promote them-
selves in the course of years simply by out-
growing their desks, and who in manhood
make fine strides toward success untram-
meled by learning. This long, lazy youth
(whose extended Umbs were u^oubtedly the

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THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER.

265

factors in the constant anguish of amuse-
ment to be seen on the face of the little boy
in front of him) had been enjoying the ex-
erdses tlius far as matters gotten up for
his sole entertainment ; but now, wishing a
change of topic, he put an end to the pres-
ent foolishness by rising suddenly unbidden
and stating, with smiling decision, '' We
eanH give our heads to our country. We
only say so.''

The children settled back in their seats
with immense breaths of relief, and we felt
that to refuse an explanation so patently in-
controvertible would be to lower our dignity ;
we therefore snccumbed.

The heart being a more mysterious organ
than the head, which is apt to flourish in mem-
ory by being unlawfully tapped by rulers, the
second clause in the ''slute'' was passed
over by the examiner. So, picking out a
tiny damsel, he made on her these easy de-
mands:

** * One country' — what country, little
maid?"

" America, sir."

** Yes, indeed. And of course you know
who discovered America ? "

** Yes, sir. Columbia, sir."

** Well, nearly. Columbus — can you tell
me his first name ? "

'' Yes, sir."

''What is it?"

" Hail."

To offset this slip, the class was instructed
to sing the song in mention, and their per-
formance was beyond cavil, so hearty, so
musical were their fresh young voices, and
so inexhaustible were their memories — verse
after verse rippling spontaneously forth, with
never a book in sight !

** Do you like to sing patriotic songs ? "

" YES, SIR ! " this in a thundering chorus.

" Better than other songs ? "

"YES, SIR!"

"Why?"

The chorus was silenced. After a pause
a bullet-headed, philosophical young Teuton
said, with the slowness characteristic of a
deep thinker, "For pecause dey makes de
piggest noise."

" What do you mean by patriotic, by pa-
triotism ? " was naturally the next question.

" Putting flags on your house when some-
body dies."

" Getting a half holiday and going down
town to holler at the soldiers as they go
by."

" Patriotism's killin' Spaniards."

These definitions were given by boys, to the
disgust of a tiny girl, who jumped up with
an indignant pipe of, " Patriotism is love of
your country."

The teacher, who, as might be expected,
was not thoroughly enjoying herself, beamed
approval at little miss ; but the examiner felt
an unshaken pride in his own sex, for the
reason that the boys' answers published the
fact that with them patriotism was synony-
mous with action.

" What has your country ever done for
you that yon should love it ? " was the next
question.

Oddly enough, this simple query was a
poser. A timid girl remarked that her coun-
try had given her an exquisition — something
evidently very horrible, for she promptly put
her head down upon her desk and howled
with grief, utterly refusing to explain her-
self.

The blank, not to say terrified, faces of

the youngsters forced the teacher from the

subordinate part of listener to controller,

and rising majestically from her

seat, she commanded, " Children,

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266

THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER.

mention five advantages you derive from
being American citizens! "

With immediate cordiality they chanted in
chorus, ** Liberty, protection at home and
abroad, self-government, free schools, and
public libraries!"

We couldn't have touched the right but-
ton. Encouraged at such unanimous knowl-
edge, we probed it a little, and elicited the
facts that liberty meant being out of jail,
that you got protection if you could find a
policeman, and that self-government was
doing as you pleased.

We now asked our victims if they would
write for us a verse or two of their favorite
patriotic song, and they made no objection,
appearing even to like the employment. One
child, announcing that she intended to write
** Andy's quotation," asked that Andy be
allowed to recite it for her as a help to her
memory. Andy, who proved to be the long-
limbed idler, gallantly went to the trouble of
extricating himself from his desk, stepped
into the aisle, and apparently repeated these
words from Drake's Address to the Ameri-
can Flag:

Forever float that standard sheet !

Where breathes the foe but falls before us.
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet.

And Freedom's banner streaming o'er ns ?

Apparently. What he really did say
was made manifest by his written words,
for he, too, chose to write the words for
our inspection. We will reproduce them
later.

Before commentingupon the papers handed
in to us, we wish to present a significant sta-
tistic or two : The average age of this class
was ten years and one month ; in their last
spelling review they had taken a percentage
of eighty-eight ; and they were now allowed
to write the song of their own choosing.
** The Star-Spangled Banner" seemed to be
a general favorite, but certainly not through
the merit of being understood; for, from
the very beginning, where ** dawn's early
light" varied from the harmless shibboleth
of ''don selery eye" to the more sinister
*' dam surly lie," every line was garbled and
twisted into some startling grotesqueness,
the whole ending with the agonized appeal,
*' Oh, say does the star spangled Banner get
weighed ? or the home of the free ? or the
land of the brave?" A simple line in
the second stanza, " blest with victory and
peace," appeared once ** less the fig trees
and peas"; and another time, ** bless with
big trees apiece"; while the stanza con-

cluded by asking politely, ** Does the star
Spangled Banner yet wade ? "

Of course, once in a while a phrase was
rendered correctly, there being bat one song
which claimed the distinction of containing
a line totally uncomprehended by any child
using it. That song was Julia Ward Howe's
•* Battle Hymn of the Republic," the line
being the one which pictures the God of Bat-
tles as ** trampling out the vintage where
the grapes of wrath are stored." Without
exception the word "vintage" was inter-
preted ** village," and the rest of the line
was varied to suit particular needs; one
need expressing itself prosaically thus : ** He
is tramping round the village where the
grapes arrive from shore."

The most damning quality of these extracts
was their painfully exact spelling. They
could mean nothing else than what they said.
In a vilely spelled screed there is always a
chance that it may mean the right thing in
spite of appearances. For instance, one lit-
tle chap handed in a paper with the simple,
brief announcement, ** Gloriglo, halua lua
lura halua lua." It was evident at a glance
that this was the familiar chorus, "Glory,
Glory, hallelujah; " and it was just as good
spelled one way as another. But so much
cannot be said for ** the swine of each pastry
Arctic Ocean," which was one child's con-
ception of the ** shrine of each patriot's de-
votion," and preceded the statement that
Columbia " roared " safe through the storm.
As Columbia had been stigmatized a few lines
above as *'the yam of the ocean," there
must have been quite a mixture of pictures
in that child's mind.

It is a pity that religious discussions are
tabooed in our public schools, otherwise it
might have been profitable to have interro-
gated the pupil who made a coy suggestion
to ** blast the popes that have made and pre-
served us a nation." Her mental concept
may have ** praised the power," but the situ-
ation admits of doubt.

Most of the songs were wonderfully
well written and punctuated, the exceptions
being rare. Following is given one of the
rarest. The lad who wrote was probably
tired.

Dam dam dam the boys are marching cheer np com-
rads they will come and aneath the tamy pag we will
been an aim again in the freedom of onr annie ammie
ome.

The translation we reserve to ourselves;
but of course we cannot prevent the per-
severing few from finally reducinffthe " tamy

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THE FALL OF QUEBEC,

267

pag," " been an airn/' and '' annie ammie
ome " to simpler terms.

Believing that little children are never too
yotmg to be taught to reverence and love
their country and to understand its heart-
songSy and believing also that a Columbia
which is pictured as a cross between a yam
and swine cannot be a very lovely figure in
a little patriot's mind, the compiler of these
notes ventures to suggest that when our lit-
tle tots at school are taught the words of
patriotic songs, plentiful and constantly re-

peated explanation should go hand in hand
with such instruction. Beautiful, indeed, is
it to see a class give signs of thorough drill in
inspiriting exercises of collective patriotism;
but to be ardently effective, the drill should
begin with the individual. Then might Andy
see some beauty in his address to his loved
flag, which at present he is rendering thus :

Forever wave that standing cheat

Where breeze the foe but falls befoms,

With freedoms oil beneath our feet
And freedom's banner screaming oms.

THE FALL OF QUEBEC.

By Cyrus Townsend Beady,

Author of " For Love of Country," »' For the Freedom of the Sea," " The Grip of Honor," etc.

** Comey each death-doing dog who dares ven-
ture his neck,

Comey follow the hero that goes to Quebec ;

Jump aboard cf the transports, and loose
every sail;

Pay your debts at the tavern by giving leg-
bail;

And ye that love fighting shall soon have
enough:

Wo^e commands v^, my boys ; we shall give
them Hot Slti#."— Old Song.

ON the 29th of February, 1712, when Louis
XIV., old, broken, and defeated, was
closing his long reign, a little boy was born
in the south of France. Fifteen years later.

on tlie 2d of January, 1727, another lad saw
the light in the England of George the First.
Born under different governmental systems
and springing from different racial stocks,
standing for different ideas, the lives of these
two children were destined to be strangely
intermingled. They were to be the chief
factors in a great contest in which the stakes
were a future empire the like of which the
world had not seen. They were to play their
great game upon a theater of unparalleled
magnificence and before an audience which
comprised the world. There were circum-
stances of great dramatic interest in the
careers of both, and in the end each laid
down his life in defense of his principles on

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268

THE FALL OF QUEBEC,

the same blood-stained field. The French-
man was the son of a great nobleman ; the
Englishman, a child of the sturdy middle
class. Both were soldiers. There were
brave days for soldiers then, and both of
them saw much hard fighting and arduous
campaigning. Both had risen rapidly, and
both had been chosen for positions of im-
portance which they had neither sought nor
desired, but which both had accepted from
the very highest sense of duty and love of
country.

Montcalm had signally demonstrated his
capacity by inflicting upon the English an
overwhelming defeat in the pine woods of
Ticonderoga, and Wolfe had shown his abil-
ity at the siege of Louisburg. They were
now to be matched in a struggle for a point
more vital than the fortress in the pine-clad
hills or that on the iron-bound coast of Cape
Breton. The rifle shots of the Virginians un-
der George Washington in the forest glades
of Western Pennsylvania, which struck down
young Jumonville, had kindled a conflagra-
tion of war which had swept like a besom of
destruction from the St. Lawrence to the
Ganges, and which had involved every power
in the world in a gigantic struggle — Eng-
land, Prussia, and the American Colonies
contra mundum ! On the icy plains of Rus-
sia, 'neath the shadows cast by the Hima-
layas, and in the forests primeval of the
New World the conflict raged.

On this continent two great ideas had stood
at swords' points with each other from the
landing of the Pilgrims and the voyage of
Car tier. In a thin strip upon the Atlantic
seaboard from the Penobscot to St. Augus-
tine, the beginning of a government *' of the
people, by the people, and for the people,"
had been established; and a nation, frugal
and industrious, hardy and bold, was in the
travail pains of existence. The several Eng-
lish colonies embraced a population of over
a million souls. On the back of the conti-
nent, with one hand on the great river of
the North, the other clutching the great
river of the South, lay the domain of France,
a country still the most powerful in the great
family of nations. A thin chain of military
posts dotted along the two rivers and the
great lakes represented the barrier by which
the advocates of the feudal system— decay-
ing in France, but which it was hoped might
be revived in America — strove to hold back
the inundation of men already beginning to
break upon the mountain chains of what was
then the West. Though the province had
been most assiduously fostered by the crown.

the number of inhabitants in New France did
not exceed, at the very highest estimate,
70,000; but every male in the population
was liable for military service, and the seig-
niors of the villages and rude chateaux and
the officers of the posts were men of high
stamp, bearing some of the noblest names
of France. In war they could bring to their
assistance hordes of ruthless savages, who,
under the teaching of the Jesuits, had added
to their natural vindictiveness and ferocity
the machinery of the warfare of the time.
There were, in addition to the population,
some 5,000 regular soldiers in the country,
battalions of picked men from some of the
finest regiments of the incomparable French
infantry. Therefore, while in numbers the
odds against the French were heavy, their
case was not desperate.

Various disjointed attempts had been made
at diflferent points during the Seven Years'
War, but after the reduction of Louisburg in
1757, Pitt determined to attack New France
at every available point at once, making use
of his great numerical superiority and com-
mand of the sea for that purpose. Amherst
was to move up Lake Cbamplain, Prideaux
and Sir William Johnson were to attack Fort
Niagara, Stanwix was to sweep the posts on
Lake Erie, and Forbes, with Washington, was
to effect the reduction of Fort Duquesne,
The main expedition was directed against
Quebec itself, and comprised twenty-two
ships-of-the-line, with accompanying frig-
ates and transports, under the command of
Vice- Admiral Saunders, convoying 9,000
men under James Wolfe. The genius of Pitt
had led him to select this young man from
hundreds of others, his seniors in rank —
an unprecedented proceeding, by the way
— and he had given him the temporary rank
of major-general for the American cam-
paign. His force, consisting of English and
provincial troops, all regulars, was one of
the best that had ever been assembled under
the British flag. Wolfe's brigadiers, Monck-
ton, Townshend, and Murray, were also young
and capable soldiers. The army was oflBcered
by young men. Pitt's idea was that an army
was to win battles and campaigns, and not to
become a plaything for incompetent officers
who possessed nothing but rank.

On the 21st of June, the expedition anch-
ored off the Isle of Orleans, a few miles be-
low Quebec, in the noble river St. Lawrence.
Leaving the different garrisons along the
frontier to defend themselves as best they
might, Montcalm had concentrated his army
at Quebec. He had under his command a

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force probably of 14,000 men, of which not
more than 4,000 were regulars. Of the bal-
ance, some were Canadian militia, and the
larger number partisans, Indians, and undis-
ciplined peasants. The city he had elected
to defend commanded the St. Lawrence, the
great way of communication through the
country. Its site was one of the most mag-
nificent on the continent, if not in the world.
** Que Bee ! '' had exclaimed the rough sailor
of Dieppe in 1535, when he first caught sight
of the rock of Cape Diamond, towering for
over 300 feet in the air, overlooking the
deep, land-locked basin which made the mag-
nificent harbor. Upon the crest of this tre-
mendous mass of granite which stands almost
perpendicular to the river had been erected
a fortress. Toward the north the rock sloped
gently down, until it was broken by a rugged
plateau half-way to the water's edge, and
upon it stood a walled town containing the
Cathedral, the Laval University, the Ursu-
line Convent, and the Chateau St. Louis, the
residence of the governor. Still farther
down on the strand was the lower town,
bounded on the north by the river St. Charles.
Along the banks of the St. Lawrence for
seven miles to the northward straggled the
villages of Charlesbourg and Beauport. The
St. Charles emptied into the St. Lawrence
through a broad expanse of mud-fiats almost
fmpassable at low tide, and guarded by heavy
fortifications at high water, together with
a barrier and two floating batteries. These
fortifications were continued for seven miles
along the edge of the bluffs of Beauport,
and terminated on the deep gorge of the
rapid and practically unfordable Montmor-
ency River, which, just before it reaches
the St. Lawrence, leaps down the cliffs in a
sheer fall of 250 feet, in a glorious and
beautiful cataract. Beyond the citadel on
the southern side of the city for eight miles
there was a continuation of the plateau.
The table-land terminated on the river coast
in sheer and precipitous rocks overgrown
here and there by stunted patches of trees
and shrubbery. On the south, at Cap Rouge,
it was protected by another gorge and river,
and on the other side by rocky and imprac-
ticable slopes to the valley of the Charles.
One or two places where the cliffs could be
scaled were guarded, though their existence
was unknown to the English.

Montcalm, after properly garrisoning the
town, wisely chose to await attack in the
entrenchments at Beauport. But the situ-
ation on the French side was not pleasant.
The governor of New France, Philippe de

Rigai'd, Marquis de Vaudreuil, a captain in
the French navy, was a jealous incompetent.
No sort of harmony existed between him and
Lieutenant-General Montcalm. The general
administration of affairs was under de Vau-
dreuil, while Montcalm was supreme as to
military matters, with the limitations of
power not well defined between them. To
further complicate matters, finance and trade
were controlled by Frangois Bigot, one of
the most consummate thieves and scoundrels
that ever lived. The administration of in-
ternal affairs was thoroughly corrupt. The
king was robbed on the one hand, the peo-
ple on the other. While the people starved
and the army lived on half rations, Vau-
dreuil and Bigot and their satellites rioted
in luxury on the plunder of their country. ♦

Montcalm, a stern and simple soldier, strug-
gled vainly against this state of affairs, but
he was without power except so far as mili-
tary matters were concerned. Before the
expedition of Wolfe arrived, realizing the im-
portance of the possession of Quebec, he had
sent his lieutenant, Bougainville, afterward
the celebrated circumnavigator, to France to
beg aid. The king, busy with his Pompa-
dour and his Parcaux Cerfs and other similar
matters of state, had sent him a promotion,
a star, some 400 men, and some scanty sup-
plies, with instructions to hold on to the prov-
ince at all hazards! "A little is precious
to those who have nothing," sadly remarked
the Frenchman, when Bougainville exhibited
the results of his labors. He said that he
would save the colony or die in it. The
words meant much from him. The gallant
little marquis was a domestic man, and was
ever sighing for the advent of that day
when he might return to his beloved country-
seat at Candiac, and pass his days in peace in
the society of his wife and children. Bou-
gainville had brought him word of the death
of one of his children, which had been re-
ported just before the ship sailed, and the
poor man never found out which child had
been taken from him until he met her in
heaven. His letters to his wife and mother,
read to-day, after a century and a half of
silence, still touch the heart with their ten-
derness and love.

The problem that met Wolfe was one of
the most gigantic with which the human mind
had ever grappled, and how to compass it he
knew not. As a preliminary to the enter-
prise, however, he captured the Isle of Or-
leans and the heights of Levis, a bold prom-
ontory opposite the city. On the latter,
he erected batteries, which by^ vigproiis

270

THE FALL OF QUEBEC,

bombardments soon reduced the lower town
to ruins, though neither from the batteries
nor the ships was he able to secure sufficient
elevation to throw shells into the town, much
less the citadel. For offensive purposes his
ships were more or less useless, for the wa-
ter was shallow on the Beauport shore and
the batteries were so placed that they could
fire upon the ships with impunity. But the
latter lent mobility to his force, which dou-
bled its effectiveness and signally illustrated
the advantage of sea command in warfare.

Wolfe's first attempt was to land his men
on the north bank of the Montmorency River,
and then try to find some way through the
dense virgin forests to cross the river and
turn Montcalm's left. The condition of the
country made this impossible. There was
but one doubtful ford, which was guarded.
One of Wolfe's advance parties was badly
handled by the French and Indians. The
open season, in the latitude of Quebec, lasts
but a few months, and the whole army, work-
ing during the whole time, could not have
opened a road for the advance. The plan
was necessarily abandoned.

The cliff over which the Montmorency River
rushes to meet the St. Lawrence is several
hundred feet back from the low-water mark,
and when the tide, which ebbs and flows in
the river as in the ocean, was out, it was
possible to ford the smaller stream ; so Wolfe
next decided to make an attack upon some
detached fortifications which apparently con-
stituted the extreme flank of Montcalm's line,
commanded by De Levis. He trusted that,
if he could gain them, he might turn the
flank of the line, make the entrenchments un-
tenable, and force Montcalm to fight. There-
fore, with the cooperation of the navy, which
was always cheerfully given, he determined
upon this desperate plan.

On the morning of July 31st, the line-of-
battle ship ** Centurion," sixty-four, with
two armed transports, moved down opposite
to the destined spot. The transports went
so far in shore that they grounded on the
flats, but all opened a furious bombardment
on the redoubts. When the tide was com-
pletely out, Wolfe, leading in person the
Grenadiers, the Royal Americans, and the
Highlanders, which had been embarked in
boats, made for the land. At the same time
Monckton's brigade started down from the
entrenched camp upon the heights of Mont-
morency to support the attack from the river.
The Royal Americans and the Grenadiers first
reached the shore. Without waiting to be
formed and with no attempt at order, disre-

garding entirely the commands of their offi-
cers and without the support of Monckton's
column, they rushed impetuously pell-mell
toward the redoubts, the French retreating
before them as they came on. Swarming
over the redoubts they attempted to ascend
the hill, which, they discovered too late,
bristled with fortifications commanding every
slope. They were met by a deadly fire, and
in a few moments were driven tumultuously
down the hill, where they took shelter be-
hind the useless redoubts. Over 400 had
been killed and wounded in a few moments.
A violent rainstorm came up, and after it
was over Wolfe, who had kept the High-
landers well in hand, seeing the futility of
further attack, ordered his men to their
boats. Acts of great gallantry were per-
formed by many of the men in bringing in
the wounded, whom the Indians were already
creeping down the hills to scalp. Monck-
ton's brigade did not get in action at all.
Wolfe severely censured the reckless and
disorderly conduct of the Grenadiers and
Americans; but while the censure was de-
served, it is difficult to see how any differ-
ent result could have been expected. The
transports were burned. The French ex-
ulted greatly over the repulse.

About this time the English general, whose
physique was of the frailest, was seized by
a low fever and prostrated by a wasting dis-
ease, and his life was despaired of. To the
great joy of the army, however, he recov-
ered, in part at least, and resumed command.
As the season was drawing on and they had
made no progress, in his desperation he sug-
gested to his brigadiers several plans of at-
tack upon Beauport, Charlesbourg, and the
lower town, which they wisely rejected as
impossible. There remained but one other
thing to be tried. If by any means he could
get a foothold upon the plateau above Que-
bec, he could force Montcalm to come out
in the open and fight, and, in that event, he
had no doubt of the issue. A Scotsman,
Captain Stobo, who had been taken as a hos-
tage from Washington's command at Fort
Necessity and had been detained for many
years at Quebec, had effected his escape that
spring and joined Wolfe's army. He in-
formed the commander that there was one
practicable path up the cliffs, in a little cove
called Anse de Foulon, and he offered to con-
duct a party to that point. It was their last
chance, and Wolfe determined to embrace it.

The army and fleet had not been idle ; at

different intervals during the summer many

ships had succeeded in runningvthe batteries

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of Quebec, and had anchored in the river
above the town. Various expeditions had
been undertaken, some to ravage the coun-
try on every side, and others to menace Cap
Rouge and vicinity, to stop the provisions
from coming down the river from Montreal.
Several attempts to destroy the fleet by
French fire-ships had been thwarted by the
vigilance of the officers and the daring of the
men. Montcalm had detached some 2,000
men under the command of Bougainville,
who was stationed at Cap Rouge. Saunders
had warned Wolfe that whatever he did he
was to do quickly, for the near approach of
the Canadian winter rendered it imperative
for him to take his ships out of the harbor
if they were not to be frozen up until the
next spring. The French had about con-
cluded that all danger for the year had
passed, but Montcalm had not relaxed his
vigilance in the slightest degree. The Cana-
dian peasants, watching the burning of their
farm-houses and the devastation of their
country from the shores of Quebec, were de-
serting in great numbers. Provisions were
short, and supplies were shorter. Still Mont-
calm held on, hoping that the cold weather
would relieve him from the presence of his
persistent enemy; he counted without his
host.

On the 3d of September, the camp at Mont-
morency was abandoned, and troops to the
number of 3,600 were embarked on the
ships of Holmes' squadron above the town.
Wolfe, in a small boat, carefully examined the
shore, and verified the existence of Stobo's
path. By the white tents at the top of the
hill he saw that it was guarded, but he
thought there was a possibility that the
guard might be negligent and that he could
surprise it. On the 4th, he fell desperately
ill again. Only his indomitable energy kept
him alive. He said to the surgeon that he
knew his end was near, but he begged him
to patch him up for a few days to enable
him to complete the undertaking. On the
7 th, he was so far recoveied as to order a
feint at Cap Rouge. The ships ran into the
cove of the river, and smartly engaged the
batteries and Bougainville's troops. The
next two days it rained, to the great dis-
comfort of every one, and for three days
thereafter the ships moved up and down the
river with the tide, making feints at landing
at diflferent points and completely wearing
out the Frenchmen on shore.

On the evening of the 12th, they anchored
off Cap Rouge again. It was the night
selected for the undertaking. Wolfe had

depleted the garrisons at Orleans and Point
Levis to the danger limit, and 1,200 men
marched up the opposite shore, and lay on
their arms until the morning. The total
force of the expedition, therefore, was about
4,800 men. Wolfe had lost over 1,000 in
killed and wounded in the different attacks
and in raids, and there were many sick and
disabled in the hospitals. A fortunate cir-
cumstance prepared the way for the attack.
It had been learned from a deserter that ar-
rangements had been made to float several
boat-loads of provisions from Cap Rouge
down to Quebec under cover of the dark-
ness. The plan was abandoned, but the sen-
tries on the river were not notified of the
change. In the cabin of the '* Sutherland '*
the young commander sat waiting for the
ebb. With him was a young naval officer
named John Jervis, who had been a school-
fellow and boy-friend in England. He lived
to become one of the greatest of English ad-
mirals, and he related afterward that Wolfe,
after charging him with messages to his
mother, took from his neck a miniature of
a beautiful young woman. Miss Lowther, to
whom he was betrothed, and whose picture he
had habitually worn ; and that he gave it to
his friend with instructions as to its dispo-
sition after the action, which he felt assured
he would not survive. I like to dwell upon
him as he sits there, a dying man, in the
flickering lamplight in the rude cabin of the
ship, on the eve of his desperate hazard,
thinking of home and mother and sweetheart
and friends.

About two in the morning, the night being
very dark and rainy, the boats were cast off,
and silently drifted down the river with the
young ebb, the ships following a little later.
In the first boat were Wolfe himself with his
staff. An officer of the Highlanders who
spoke French like a native was stationed
forward. In this boat and the next were
twenty-four men from the light infantry who
had been chosen from numberless volunteers
as a forlorn hope to lead the assault. They
were under the command of Lieutenant-Col-
onel William Howe, who later crossed swords
wifh Washington from Long Island to the
Brandywine. Not a light was shown in any
boat, and in perfect silence they swiftly
floated down the river. The stillness of the
night, the desperate nature of their attack,
the mysterious loneliness of the towering
shores, must have filled their hearts with
awe. In Wolfe's boat, he himself broke the
silence by reciting some of the verses of
Gray's famous ** Elegy.-' Tho^who wejre
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THE FALL OF QUEBEC,

with him loved to recall afterwards that he
said he would rather have written that poem
than capture Quebec ! As the boat passed
one of the jutting curves of the Palisades, a
sharp voice from the shore broke the silence
with the challenge, * * Qui vive ! " " France^ ' '
was the instant reply made by the High-
lander. ' * A qyd regiment ? " " Ite fa Beirve^ ' '
said the officer with great presence of mind,
naming a regiment which was known to be
at Cap Rouge. That was all. The hearts
of the officers and men in the boats must
have stood still. If they were discovered
they were lost; but the sentry, apparently
satisfied, said nothing more, and they drifted
on. They were hailed again, and the same
Highlander answered that they were pro-
vision boats, and that silence must be kept
or they would be betrayed to the English.
The current bore them swiftly around a great
headland and into a little cove to the land-
ing-place ; so swiftly, in fact, that the boats
brought to the shore somewhat below the des-
tined spot. It was after four in the morning
now.

Led by the Scotsman, they soon reached
the foot of the path. On the top of the hill
the lights of the small encampment could be
seen. Montcalm had ordered the place care-
fully guarded. A picket of 100 men was
stationed there under the command of Cap-
tain de Vergor. This captain had been tried
for cowardice and gross neglect of duty, of
both of which he was undoubtedly guilty,
while in command of the fortress of ^ause-
jour. Bigot and de Vaudreuil had, however,
interfered to procure his acquittal. In dis-
obedience of his orders, he had now allowed
the larger portion of his party, who were
Canadian militia, to leave their posts and go
home to harvest their crops. He himself
was fast asleep, and a negligent watch was
kept. A part of the battalion Guyenne,
which had been ordered to camp near the
spot, by some mistake had never left the
Charles River. There were batteries scat-
tered here and there along the shore at
Samos and Sillery. Apparently all were
asleep and unsuspecting.

As the men disembarked, Wolfe and his
officers advanced to the narrow path trail-
ing up the face of the cliff. They found it
had been barricaded. Howe and his men,
however, thought they could get up the side
of the cliff, which is here somewhat less pre-
cipitous and is thickly wooded, by clinging to
the projecting trees. *' You may try it,''
said Wolfe, " though I do not think you will
succeed.'' In silence he and his companions

watched the forlorn hope scale the Palisades,
while boat after boat discharged its load and
went back to the ships for more. There was
a crashing here and there among the trees
and bushes as they disappeared ; then silence.
Presently the eager listeners heard the sound
of a rifle shot, and then more and more, a
perfect fusillade ; then a British cheer ! Con-
cealment was at an end. The men at a nod
from Wolfe sprang at the barricades on the
path and soon tore them to pieces, and then,
in a long, sinuous, red line, they toiled up the
cliff toward the top, Wolfe among the first.
De Vergor, the coward, had attempted to
fly, and had been wounded and captured.
The fall of New France rests absolutely upon
his shoulders. With his picket he could have
kept down Wolfe's whole army. As fast as
the regiments climbed the hill they were de-
ployed. The day was just breaking. Mean-
while, the boats had been sent back for the
party on the other shore, and it was being
rapidly ferried over. The sailors of the
squadron dragged up two small pieces of
artillery. The batteries at Samos and Sil-
lery were attacked at once, and carried by
surprise.

At the other end of the long line, Mont-
calm, supremely confident, was held in his
entrenchments by Admiral Saunders. Boats
filled with sailors and marines moved to and
fro in front of the Beauport shore, and the
ships of the fleet moved down and opened a
furious cannonade upon the line, as if to
cover an attack. Montcalm was up all night,
watchful and ready. He was astonished,
therefore, when a courier galloped breath-
lessly up to him, threw himself from his
horse, and shouted that the English had
established themselves on the Plains of Abra-
ham. " They have got to the weak side of
us at last, and we must crush them with our
numbers," was the reply. There was gal-
loping in hot haste in every direction. With
quick intelligence he realized now that he
had to fight a battle, whether he would or
no, and that the fate of Quebec hung trem-
bling in the balance. He took horse at once,
and after stopping a moment to speak with
Vaudreuil, rode in haste toward the town,
with fixed look, saying nothing.

In the gray of the morning the soldiers of
Beauport and Charlesbourg took up the line
of march, trampling over the bridge, pass-
ing through the streets of the startled town.
Some of the famous battalions of France —
Beam, La Sarre, Guyenne, Languedoc, and
Royal Rousillon — ^were under Montcalm's
command, backed bv larcre nipAers of mi-
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litia, eoureurs de hois in leather hunting-suits,
and painted, plumed Indians. He hoped to
drive Wolfe into the sea. Sending expresses
to Vaudreuil to bring up the militia and de
Ramesay to send him artillery from the bat-
tery of twenty-four field pieces in Quebec,

other was held in reserve, leaving about 3,500
men on the fighting line. The field was an
open one, partly cultivated, with clumps of
trees and thickets on either side. Already
the underbrush was filling with savages and
partisans, and the bullets were beginning to

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*HB [MONTCALM] WOULD HAVE FALLEN, HAD NOT TWO SOLDIERS SUPPORTED HIM ON EITHER SIDE.**

he rode in person to the scene of the con-
flict. About six in the morning, the Eng-
lish, who had breakfasted, were drawn up in
the battle formation of that day in three
ranks. As the line was not long enough to
stretch from one side of the plateau to the
other, the left flank under Townshend was
refused. One regiment had been thrown
backward to hold in check Bougainville. An-

fall in the English line, the men lying down
and skirmishing heavily. The sky was over-
cast, and the rain fell in fitful showers.

Wolfe commanded in person. He walked
up and down exhorting and encouraging his
men while he waited for Montcalm. Not a
heroic-looking man, with his long, pointed
nose, receding forehead and chin, red hair,
with -a head set upon sloping shoulders; a

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THE FALL OF QUEBEC.

slender, emaciated figure over six feet in
height. But there was a flash in his eye and
a look in his bearing which proclaimed a sol-
dier, and all the men of his army loved him.
His illness was gone, and he seemed full of
vigor and energy. As he passed down the
lines they greeted him with cheers.

Presently, over the crest of a little hill
which shut off the view of Quebec, appeared
the white coats of the enemy. Very pretty
they looked against the green grass that
rainy morning. There was much manoeuver-
ing to and fro, readjusting of lines, deploy-
ing of battalions. There were men on horse-
back there, too. The great Frenchman had
his moment of parade. He, too, had ridden
up and down his line, sword in hand, calling
upon the chivalry of France for a last effort
to sweep the hated English into the sea, and
with equal spirit they had responded. The
three field pieces which de Ramesay had
grudgingly sent forward began to play on
the two naval guns of the English. Throw-
ing a mass of militia, Canadian woodsmen,
and Indians on the left flank, to turn it if
possible, and opening a heavy, fire from the
trees and bushes on both sides, at ten o'clock,
the French army, numbering about 4,500,
began to move, with Montcalm leading in
person.

The generalship of Montcalm in making

this attack has beeti questioned. There was
no question as to the necessity of fighting.
His position was untenable, his communica-
tions were broken, his supplies stopped, unless
he could drive the English from the position ;
but the necessity for fighting at that mo-
ment was not apparent. There were at Cap
Rouge 2,000 good troops under Bougainville,
an officer of great merit; back of him, at
Beauport, were perhaps 5,000 more, rather
indifferent, but still counting for something,
if de Vaudreuil could be induced to bring
them up. A delay and a more imperative
order probably would have brought him more
guns than those de Ramesay had sent him.
By waiting he might have strengthened his
army, and with Bougainville's assistance
taken the English between two fires. We
can only suppose that he underrated the
strength of the thin red line across the
greensward, under the great red flag, and
that he imagined from his previous experi-
ences with the English, which had been for-
tunate, that he could easily beat them. He
did not realize that they were led by a hero
of heroes, that they were among the finest
soldiery in the world, that they had their
back against a precipice, and that they must
conquer or be exterminated. So in a fatal
hour he ordered the advance.
The regiments came on in some little con-

'•WIT! \ «:: . i: l:::*: T" ', Dis iiAii '.K n;- \ R\Tr::.:Y o' (*;xn-»n. tie tro-.t r\nk hred a VOLLET . • .

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THE FALL OF QUEBEC.

fasion, but still presented a brave show.
They were pouring their lire into the stolid,
silent English ranks ; the skirmishers had
withdrawn on the main body, the men were
ready. Wolfe had given strict orders that
the fire of his army should be held. The
bullets of the PYench opened gaps here and
there; men fell, and lay groaning, or still,
on the sod. In obedience to his quick or-
ders, the ranks were continually closed, and
the grim front presented itself unbroken.
The leader was everywhere cheering and
animating his veterans. The French were
nearer now, the bullets were coming harder.
They were but sixty yards away — fifty — forty
— twenty— the English soldiers could see the
whites of the eyes of the French. A sharp
word of command rang out, the gun-barrels
came down; with a crash like the discharge
of a battery of cannon, the front rank fired
a volley. A moment after, the second rank
delivered its fire; and as soon as the smoke
cleared away, the third rank poured in a
deadly discharge.

The head of the French army literally had
been blown to pieces. The advance was
halted. The ground was covered with writh-
ing figures, the white coats, blood-stained,
showing plainly upon the green grass. The
line was reeling to and fro like a drunken
man. There were not so many horsemen

now. Montcalm, Senezergues, and the other
officers made frantic efforts to reform the
lines. The French regulars responded gal-
lantly, rallying and returning the fire, but
nothing could stand before the deadly regu-
larity of the English discharges. Volley
after volley rang out over the plain. The
partisans in the bushes still kept up a fire.
Townshend led his men forward and cleared
the left flank, and then turned on the center,
where the French still fought on. Monck-
ton was badly wounded. The battle was not
yet over. ** Forward! Forward!" cried
Wolfe, his soul aflame, and he leaped to the
front of the Louisburg Grenadiers on the
right. With wild cheers the army advanced,
firet on the double-quick and then in a wild
run. Frazier's Highlanders, throwing aside
their muskets and waving their terrible clay-
mores, led them all . Menaced on three sides,
there was fight in the French yet. The shat-
tered battalions met the advance with all the
heroism and gallantry of their noblest tradi-
tions.

A bullet struck Wolfe in the left wrist.
He caught his handkerchief about it, and
pressed on; another hit him in the body,
still he kept his place at the head of the
Grenadiers. Presently a third struck him
in the abdomen, inflicting a dreadful wound.
*• Don't let me fall ! " he cried to those near-

THE ADVANCE WAS HALTED."

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THE FALL OF (JUEBEC.

est him, ** lest 1 discourage the men/' One
or two sprang to his side, caught him in their
arms, and laid him down on the grass. The
Grenadiers, who had seen it all, gritted their
teeth, and pressed on with red revenge in
their hearts. There was a hand-to-hand
ndlee. The French regulars died gallantly,
the Canadian volunteers fled, the Indians had
gone long since ; but nothing could stop the
British bayonet, the Highland steel. The
French broke and ran ; the real fighting had
lasted but a quarter of an hour!

Back on the grass the life-blood of Wolfe
was ebbing away. * * It is all over with me, ' *
he said to one of the bystanders ; and a mo-
ment after, as he heard one of them cry,
** They run ! They run ! " he opened his eyes,
and asked, "Who run?''

" The enemy, sir. They give way every-
where."

** Go, one of you, to Colonel Burton," he
returned, still intent upon his duty in the
very articles of death, with the clear instinct
of a soldier still undimmed; ** tell him to
march Webb's regiment down to Charles
River to cut off their retreat from the
bridge!"

It was his last order. He turned on his
side, exclaiming, ** Now, (Jod be praised, I
will die in peace," and when they looked at
him again, he was dead.

Montcalm, still on horseback, command-
ing, imploring, entreating, was swept back
by the flying crowd toward the town. Just
before he reached the St. Ix)uis gate a bullet
passed through his body. He would have
fallen, had not two soldiers supported him
on either side. Inside the gate the towns-
people were listening with bated breath to
the roar of the battle outside the walls. As
he entered, they saw his white shirt covered
with blood. " Alas, alas, the marquis is
wounded! " cried a woman.

** It is nothing, it is nothing. Have no
anxiety for me, my good friends," he re-
plied.

Those of the army who could do so found
shelter in the city. The greater number
poured down the Cote St. (Jenevieve toward
Charlesbourg bridge to regain their entrench-
ments. A little body of Canadians threw
themselves into a thicket, and opened a hot
fire upon the advancing English to protect
the retreat, and by their courage redeemed
their reputation. They were dislodged by
the Highlanders after a furious fight. The
delay enabled the fugitives to cross the bridge
in safety. In the French camp all was con-
fusion. The English army was recalled from

pursuit, and at once threw up entrenchments.
When Bougainville appeared, it was too late
for his small detachment to do anything.

The casualties on both sides had been
frightful. The English had lost some 700
killed and wounded, including Wolfe killed
and Monckton wounded. The French had
lost upward of 1,500, among them Montcalm
and Senezergues, both mortally wounded.
There was much that the French could have
done ; but the spirit went out of the army
when Montcalm was stricken down, and they
fled precipitately to Cartier, thirty miles
away, abandoning Quebec to its fate.

The great commander was dying within its
walls. When the surgeon told him that his
wound was mortal, '' I am glad of it," he
replied ; and when he was told, in answer to
his question, that he had scarcely twelve
hours to live, he remarked, ** So much the
better; I am happy that I shall not live to
see the surrender of Quebec." He spoke
in complimentary terms of Wolfe and of his
successor, Levis. When de Ramesay, the
commandant of the garrison, came to get
orders from him, he refused to give any, re-
marking, '' I have much business that must
be attended to of greater moment than your
ruined garrison and this wretched country."
A different ending from that of the great
English soldier! Yet he still thought of his
men. One of his last acts was to send the
following note to Townshend, who had suc-
ceeded to the command :

Monsieur, the humanity of the English sets my mind
at peace concerning the fate of the French prisoners
and the Canadians. Feel towards them as they have
caused me to feel. Do not let them perceive that
they have changed masters. Be their protector as I
have been their father.

The Bishop of Quebec, himself in a dying
condition, administered the last sacraments,
and at four o'clock in the morning, on the
14th of September, Montcalm quietly en-
tered into his rest. The wife and the chil-
dren would wait long for him; he would
never return to his beloved Candiac. No
one could be found to make a coflSn, and an
old servant of the Ursuline Convent, procur-
ing a few boards, nailed them together to
form a rough box. In it they laid the body
of the dead captain, and in the evening of
the same day they buried him. There was
no escort, no funeral pageantry ; the oflScers
of the garrison and some of the people,
mostly women and children, joined the silent
procession along the deserted streets. A
shell bursting under the floor of the Ursuline
Convent had made a deep cavity, which had

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THE FALL OF (JUEBEC

277

been dhaped into a rude grave. There they
laid him away, and as the clods fell upon his
coffin, they sounded the death-knell of New
France. On the 18th of the month, de Rame-
say surrendered the town to the English.

A month later a great fleet approached the
chalk cliffs of England. On the quarter-deck
of the line-of-battle ship ** Royal William *'

dier on the great ship, in peace after so
much suffering, so much struggling, so much
heroism, such high endeavor. There was
quiet in one little hamlet, where a bereaved
mother thought that not all the Empire of
the West, which had been won at the point
of his sword, could compensate for the loss
of her son: and in another home another

•a great fleet approached the chalk cliffs of ENGLAND. ON THE QUARTER-DhCK . .
'royal WILUAM' lay a coffin. it CONTAINED ALL THAT WAS LEFT OF WOLFE.'

OP THE

lay a coffin. It contained all that was left
of Wolfe. A few days before the battle on
the Plains of Abraham, Wolfe had sent a
frank and despondent letter to Pitt, in which
he told of his failures and the slender pros-
pect of success. It had been made public,
and the English people were not prepared
for the news of the splendid achievement
which arrived at the same time as the dead
body of the commander. Oh, what a home-
coming was there ! Such manifestations of
joy have not often been seen in England, as
when the story of his great victory, the tale
of his great success, hj5 been spread abroad.
Bonfires blazed on every hill, and the people
fairly went mad with enthusiasm; but no
sound reached the dull ear of the dead sol-

woman bowed her head over a miniature
placed in her hand by a gallant sailor, who
told her the story of that last interview in
the cabin of the ship.

' * 0 Captain ! my Captain ! our fearful trip
is done ;
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize

we sought is won ;
The port is near, the hells I hear, the people

all exulting.
While follow eyes the steady heel, the vessel
grim and daring.

But 0 heart ! heart ! heart !
0 the bleeding drops of red.
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead,^^r>^^Q\r>

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THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

By the Reverend John Watson, D.D.,

Aathor of *' The Mind of the Master/' *' Beeide the Bonnie Brier Bush/' etc.

Illustrated prom paintings and drawings by Corwin Knapp Linson.

PART VIL— JESUS IN HIS RELATIONS WITH CHILDREN AND IN HIS

DEALINGS WITH MEN.

EVER was gracious teaching
commended by a more win-
some life than in the case of
Jesus, and no feature in His
life is more fascinating than
. His love for children. It
may be laid down as a law that every whole-
some and sweet-blooded person will delight
in little children in exact proportion to his
goodness, because they have come so re-
cently from the Father, and show unto us
older folk the innocence and simplicity of
the Eden state. We read in them the first
chapter of our history, before the storm and
stress of life begin, and from middle age we
regard childhood with wistful regret. As
Jesus was the best of us all, He loved chil-
dren most, and the imperative self-denial of
His calling quickened this devotion. Al-
though He loved to describe the marriage pro-
cession and the marriage feast, and fondly
touched on the joy of the bridegroom and
his friends, there could be no marriage joy
for Him, and He must be a childless man.
While every man went unto his own house
— after some gathering of the people — He
went to the hillside and to His Father ; and
while for others there stretched long years
packed full of labor and human fellowship.
He ever anticipated the tragedy of the Cross.
So Jesus, lonely, homeless, doomed, turned
unto the children, in whom His longing for
affection wa^ satisfied, in whose unclouded
faces He forgot for the moment the shadow
of the Cross. The children were the conso-
lation of Jesus, who ever loved Him and gave
Him welcome, who never suspected or turned
against Him. And He was their Protector,
who told His disciples that it were better for
a man to have a millstone fastened to his
neck and be cast into the depths of the sea
than to offend one of the children, and who
declared that for every child there was an

angel, and that the children's angels ever
saw the face of the Father.

Apart from the friendship between the
children and Jesus, the sympathy of the in-
nocent and the good, Jesus saw in His little
companions a likeness of His Kingdom. It
was His happy misfortune to come with an
Evangel, not only so new and so glad, but
also so unworldly and undogmatic that it
could hardly find acceptance with the Church
of His time. As Jesus looked on the Phari-
sees, a solid phalanx of fanatics, wedded to
tradition, swathed in forms, suspicious of
grace, hard of soul. His heart failed ; for if
this were religion, then there were none to
receive His Evangel. He turned from the
Pharisees to the children, and saw what He
desired — the spirit and type of true religion.
Here were an open mind, humility of spirit,
a simple trust, a charming fancy, a spring
of love. To be religious, what is it ? To
believe and live like a Pharisee, answered
the Church. No, said the Master, to be like
a little child; he who hath the child spirit
hath the kingdom of God. It was a shrewd
charge, and meant more than met the eye,
when the Pharisees called Jesus the Friend
of sinners, for it assumed a new idea of God.
It had been as searching to have called Him
the Friend of children, for this reproach
would have implied a new idea of religion.

There are four child scenes in the Gospels,
and the first was in a market-place. After
the business of the day was over and the
traders had departed, the open, silent space
in the heart of some Galilean village passed
into the possession of the children, and in
the cool of the day they held their carnival.
This evening they had fallen out over the
game to be played. One party — having very
likely been defeated in the last — were of-
fended, and sulked. The others, having
gained and being magnanimous^-^ere full of
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280

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

courtesy, and would do anything their play-
mates wished. Would they have a mar-
riage ? A procession is formed, with the
bridegroom leading the bride to her new
home, and the children dance and sing ; but
the sullen group in the comer will not move.
Ah, they are sad ! Then let us have a funeral ;
and now the procession is with slow step and
loud lamentations,
as when the dead
are carried to the
grave. And still
their friends will
not join. The chil-
dren play in utter
self-consciousness,
and give no
thought to the fig-
ure in the shadow,
who has watched
the scene with
kindly,understand-
ing eye, and will
use it with telling
effect as a criti-
cism of the genera-
tion. As the chil-
dren fulfil the
dramatic instinct
which is born in us
all, and play their
game without
guile, without malice, without private ends, in
gaiety of heart, Jesus sees human nature in its
simplicity. They were not perfect; and if they
had been, the children had not been lovable,
for then they had been young Pharisees;
they were real and unaflTected. How good-
natured was the one set ! And if the others
for the moment had lost their temper, we
know how soon a child's mood changes.
Most likely, before the sun went down and
the children left the darkening stage, they
had made up their quarrel, and were once
more in high fellowship. For children bear
no grudge, and carry no account of ill-will
from day to day ; easily cast down and easily
lifted, theirs is unspoiled, natural, uncom-
plicated humanity. Actors they were that
evening, and Jesus was mightily pleased with
their acting, as no doubt, like other great
souls. He was with all the young folk's
games ; but how harmless and pleasant was
the play! By-and-by these children would
grow up and take their places on a larger
stage. Their openness and teachableness,
their gentleness and pliability would depart,
and their fresh young natures would harden
into prejudices, and hatred, and ambition.

CANA.

From a lnMiPc-top to which I had };niued occow, I could «Kt*
tl»e whltf HMid ovtT the hills to Nazareth, and the houses below
me like gre::t nquarc wat«pj»' m'sts bakin*; in the sun.— Artist's

NoTC.

and treachery. Jesus had seen the degen-
eration, and that is why He turned from the
fathers to the childrei;; why He could rest His
mind watching the actors in the market-place
with human delight, but afterward attacked
their elders with scathing invective — '* Woe
unto you. Scribes and Pharisees, actors."
The next incident is an interior, and most
likely took place
in Peter's house at
Capernaum. The
Master had been
making one of His
journeys in Gali-
lee, and that day
had been telling
His disciples of
His death with
such awe and mys-
tery that they
could neither un-
derstand nor ques-
tion Him, but were
struck with fear.
Jesus went on be-
fore, thinking of
His coming agony,
and the Twelve,
having nothing
else to do, took up
a favorite dispute,
who among them
should be chief. What a ghastly irony it was
— these twelve full-grown men, who yesterday
were hauling fishes on the sea of Galilee or
receiving petty taxes, falling out and using
hot words about honors in the kingdom of God,
which were not temporal, but spiritual, and
could only be bought with blood ! Jesus over-
heard the squabble — not the last He would
have to settle — and it served one good pur-
pose, turning His thoughts for the moment
from the Cross ; but He waited His turn, who
knew the right moment as He ever said the
right word. As soon as they had entered
the house — Jesus' home in Capernaum — Jesus
asked His company what had been the cause
of the dispute by the way, and instantly a
shamefaced silence fell on the Twelve. They
had been very keen and eloquent a few min-
utes ago, but now they were embarrassed for
want of words. One looked at the ceiling,
another at the floor, a third was interested
in something happening in the street, a fourth
made as though he would speak but did not,
till it fell to the Master to take speech. With
His quick and gentle humor He saw the op-
portunity for one of those rebukes in parable
of which He was so fond, and which He had

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON.

281

so often to administer to His foolish pupils.
Among the inmates of the house was a boy,
Peter's little lad, we guess, who was one of
the Master's fast friends, and with whom

neck which scandalized Peter, but which the
Master vastly liked — while round them stood
the big, hardy, weather-beaten men, the
boy's father among them. Jesus looked

JESUS AND NICODEMUS.

Even io must the San of man be l{fted up /—John, III. 14. Nicodemus, coming to Interview the marvelooB nc^v " teacher,"
finds Him in His poor little room. They wvX themselves on mats npon the floor, and Jesns nnfolds to Nicodemus his soul,
ending with the searching inquiry, *' Art thon a master of Israel, and knowest not thet« things ?" Then continuinjr, "Verily,
verily, I say anto thee,"— Jesns is about to impart a startling tnith ; and rising, he bursts into the prophecy,- >' Even so must
the Son of man be lifted up ! " Nicodemus does not grasp the full truth ; he may not understand any of it yet But he is
Mtonisbed, rapt, stirred to the core by the earnestness, the mysterious force, the grandeur of the young Prophet's bearing and
words ; and be becomes, from this time, a secret friend.— Artist's Notk.

Jesus had many pleasant passages. He came
to welcome his friend home, and Jesus took
His playmate on His knee— the child had a
way of flinging his arms round the Master's

from the lad to His big children: a word
was enough to expound the picture. How
modest and unassuming, how free from self-
seeking and ambition, is a right-minded child 1

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THE LIFE OF THE MASTEH.

— and Jesus' friend was that. He does not
argue nor set up his opinion; he does not
assert nor aggrandize himself. He goes
where he is told, and takes what is given
him; he is accustomed to serve and fulfil
other people' s wishes. What a kindly, oblig-
ing, obedient little fellow was Peter's boy !
They all knew him well ; for them all he had
done some slight service ; for him they all
had some caress, as the disciples came out
and in at the Master's lodging. After all,
was not this little self-forgetfulness and
sweet humility greater than pride, and honor,
and striving, and high places ? And Jesus
declared that he who had the child's heart
possessed the kingdom of God.

The third incident took place in the open,
when Jesus had set His face to go to Jeru-
salem, and it came on the back of an argu-
ment with His constant enemies, who dogged
His steps in Galilee and followed Him beyond
Jordan. With their characteristic taste, and
their usual desire to ensnare Jesus, they de-
manded His judgment on the Mosaic law of
divorce, which afforded Pharisees material
for much discussion. Jesus discoursing on
divorce or Sabbath-breaking or dinner cere-
monial was very incongruous; for if there
was one subject more alien to the Master's
mind than dogma, it was casuistry. He an*
swered His critics with a tired tone, as one
who did not relish such subjects; and after-
ward He had to explain Himself to His dis-
ciples, who dwelt upon the subject as if the
conditions and circumstances of divorce were
a green pasture for the soul. At this very
moment, by an interposition of Providence,
Jesus was relieved, and was transported from
the region He most disliked — the sins of im-
purity— to that which He loved most— the
fellowship of little children. Who should
break in on Jesus and His disciples but a
Company of women — faithful wives and pure
tiiotners — bringing the children God had
given them through the pure mystery of
marriage, that Hid Son might bless them.
Our worthy and self-lmpoftant disciples were
very indignant that Jesus should be troubled
by mothers and children at all and at such
a time. Who were they to intrude on theo-
logians clearing up a point in casuistry with
their foolishness and prattle 7 The disciples
must guard the Master from this incursion ;
indeed they were often inclined to guard Him
from Himself, who was only too apt to con-
descend to children and suchlike simple folk
when He might have been debating with
Pharisees* Like many wiser men, the dis-
ciples did not grasp the inwardness of a

spiritual sitimtioD, and Jesus turned upon
them in open anger. If there was such a
curse in the world as lust, it must be dealt
with; but who would wish to think of lust
when Love herself was present ? Were not
the two glories of the spiritual life Love and
Holiness ? and the type of the one was a
mother, of the other a young child. The
mothers, who had shrunk back with their
terrified children, came forward again ; the
frown on Jesus' face changes into a smile,
and sunshine lights His eyes. He stretches
out His arms, and children nestle in His
bosom. The Master is content, and the
children are at home with Him, for ''of
such is the Kingdom of Heaven."

The Master met for the last time with His
faithful friends in august circumstances, not
now in a fisherman's house nor in the open
fields, but in th6 Temple of Jerusalem. He
had made His Messianic entry into the cap-
ital in meekness and lowliness, while the
people cried Hosanna till the streets rang.
Then, as He entered the Temple precincts,
and the sound of the men's voices died away
outside, the children within took up the cry,
and for the last time the House of God rang
with the praise of Jesus. They paid the last
public homage Jesus was to receive before
His death, and at the same time they passed
the first public censure on His murderers.
On the one side were the priests and the
Pharisees, now united in hatred against
Jesus, and storming at this Hosanna; and
on the other side the children full of ad-
miration and love for the Master. Who
had spiritual understanding and insight— the
rulers or the children ? It was taken for
granted that day that it was the rulers, and
they demanded that the foolish children's
mouths should be stopped. Every one knows
to-day that the children were wiser than the
ancients, and Jesus declared that God had
opened their mouths. Between them and
their fathers there was this difference, that
they had imagination because their hearts
were still simple, and the old men had lost
theirs because they were proud and worldly.
Children are not the slaves of circumstances ;
they make circumstances serve them. With
a pool of water they have an ocean, with a
scrap of wood a ship, with a handful of peb-
bles a crew, and then come distant voyages
and romantic adventures. They see what
eye hath not seen, they hear what ear hath
not heard. The rulers saw a Galilean car-
penter, poor and unlearned, and they de-
spised Him; their children saw grace and
goodness, and they loved Him. Before the

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THE CHARGE TO THE TWELVE.

A ffi he called unto him the twelve, and began to fend them forth by two ahd ttvo.
and preached that men ihould repent.- Mark, vi. 7. 12.

. . And they went out.
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284

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

fathers had begun to cry *' Crucify Him,
crucify Him," the children had encompassed
Him with Hosannas, and in their judgment
the race unites. For Christianity may be
regarded as a creed, with reasoned dogmas ;
or as worship, with beautiful rites ; or as an
ethic, with elevated principles: it is first of
all and last of all a sublime emotion, and he
understands our faith best, and stands high-
est in our ranks, who has the child-heart.

It is recorded of
Jesus in the fourth Gos-
pel that *'He knew
what was in man,'*
and the Gospels are a
commentary on the un-
erring personal insight
of the Master. He es-
timated each man's
character, He read
each man's thoughts,
He prophesied each
man's action. He did
not over-value effusive
loyalty —putting men
to severe tests who de-
clared that they would
follow Him whitherso-
ever He went. He did
not discourage genuine
humility — bidding
Mary Magdalene go in
peace. If He was be-
trayed, at least He was
not disappointed — He
anticipated the treach-
ery of Judas. If He
seemed to trust too
fondly, in the end He was not disappointed
— St. Peter did bravely before His day was
done. The poor bravado of the social
outcasts did not hide their bitter regret
from Jesus, and the dishonest act of the
Pharisees did not atone for their profound
unreality. When any one's faith was weak,
Jesus fostered it; and if it were strong, He
tried it. No group of Pharisees could mur-
mur together but He knew what they were
saying, and put them to confusion. A few
of His disciples could not discuss the mean-
ing of His words without His marking their
perplexity and giving them light. He made
no mistake in any of His judgments, He had
no failure in any of His dealings. And from
among His many interviews, with as many
types of men, three stand out conspicuous,
convincing, final.

The first was with a critic, who illustrated
that state of mind without prejudice or in-

sincerity, which desires to believe, and onl>
asks for sufiicient evidence. Nathanael lived
on his land at Cana, and gave himself to
thought and study. He stood apart from
the dogmatists of Jerusalem, for to this
man's candid nature the wire-drawn argu-
ments and crass bigotry of the Pharisees
were an offense. He stood apart also from
the movement of the Baptist, for to this
man's refinement the excitement of the mul-
titude was alien. He
was as earnest about
religion as any young
man who hurried up
from Galilee and hung
upon the lips of the
Baptist — ^far more real
than the viper brood
who came out from
Jerusalem and hated
the Prophet. But the
form of a man's reli-
gion depends on the
form into which his
nature has been run,
and the providences
which have shaped his
life ; and each man
must be true to himself
in this matter of reli-
gion, neither imitating
nor judging his neigh-
bor. St. John went to
the Jordan because
there was quiet there ;
and Philip, Nathanael's
friend, went because
there was a multitude.
One was a mystic, another was a man of
affairs ; but Nathanael was a quiet, modest,
diflldent, questioning person, and he stayed
at home.

As the question of the Messiah filled the
air, Nathanael was as busy with the quest
of the day under his fig tree as the eager
crowd which argued round the Baptist; but
he chose to use a critical apparatus to arrive
at the truth. While John Baptist laid the
fear of God upon the people, Nathanael in
his study was gathering what was written
about the Messiah in Holy Scripture, accu-
mulating, comparing, reconciling evidence,
and creating a portrait which would satisfy
his reason and by which he could identify
the Coming One. He is not for an instant
to be confounded with that noisy and irri-
tating class who are proud of their clever-
ness and their scraps of knowledge and their
jingling logic and their f reedopu, f rom all

A FISHERMAN OF GAULEE.
A Btndy from life.

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON

285

convictions. Between a sceptic and a critic
there is this immense difference, that the
former demands evidence which cannot be
given, and the other only waits for trust-
worthy evidence to yield full rejoicing faith.
Nathanael is the representative of a class of
men to be found in all ranks and places,
bnt chiefly among the educated and quiet
folk in their retreats, who have not found
the Christ, but who would give all they pos-
sess to see His face.
They read every book
and weigh every ar-
gument : they say no
word against faith,
and envy every one
who believes ; but
whatever they lose
they are determined
not to lose a good
conscience, and what-
ever they suffer they
will not suffer the
charge of hypocrisy.
Nathanael was so
fortunate as to have
a man of affairs for
his friend, whom
Jesus took possession
of by a word ; and it
is refreshing to read
how Philip bethought
himself at once of the
student busy seeking
the Messiah among
his books ; how he
carried the news of
his own discovery to
Cana with overflow-
ing confidence ; and
how he anticipated the immediate satisfaction
of Nathanael. How pathetic is it also to im-
agine the wistful eagerness of the guileless
spirit to receive the glad news — the perplexity
which clouded Nathanael's face as he heard
of Nazareth, and the sad conclusion that this
new prophet, who had satisfied uncritical
Philip, could not be the Messiah. It was
impossible that He should come from that
disreputable Nazareth and contrary to the
word of prophets. And yet is the question
of Jesus to be settled by ancient books and
theological arguments ? Does it count for
nothing that honest Philip has seen Him and
been taken captive ? Are personal testi-
mony and experience to be ruled out of
court ? There are times when the sword of
common sense cuts the meshes of reasoning,
and it was nothing else than an inspiration

A FISHERMAN OF GALILEE.
A study from life.

when Philip advised his learned, speculative,
conscientious friend to see Jesus for himself.
It may seem as if Nathanael passed over-
swiftly from reasonable doubt to enthusias-
tic faith, but this transition was the great
tribute to Jesus' skill and understanding.
The Master did not invite a discussion on Naz-
areth, nor cite quotations from the prophets.
What good had been gained by an academi-
cal victory over Nathanael ? Jesus went to
the root of religion,
and answered the
deepest demand in
that heart. Can any
one unravel the tan-
gled skein of my
thoughts, and feel
the force of my
temptations, and ful-
fil the best desires of
my soul ? Can he
explain me to my-
self? Then he shall
be my master, and I
shall be his disciple.
This is the position
of the honest soul,
and Jesus answered
Nathanael' s unut-
tered prayer. As
the patriarch Jacob
had wrestled until
daybreak to know
the name of God,
Jesus declares Na-
thanael a better
Jacob— an Israelite
with Jacob's desire
and without Jacob's
guile. And when the
good man acknowledges the Divine power
which had read his heart and life, and ac-
cepts Jesus as the King of Israel, Jesus as-
sures him that this is only the beginning of
revelation and that the same who has ex-
plained Nathanael to himself will reveal God
also to him, and that, like Jacob in his dream,
this guileless soul will yet see the heavens
opened, and the angels ascending and de-
scending on the Son of Man. And that was
how Jesus made a critic into a disciple. He
satisfied him.

The second interview was with sl formalist,
who was the most honest Pharisee Jesus
met, and it took place on the Master's first
visit to Jerusalem. Among the ruling classes
there was at least one man who gave a
friendly hearing to Jesus. He held high
rank in the Council of the nation and had a

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280

THE LIFE OF TUH MASTER,

reputation for theology, and might have been
inaccessible to new ideas. One may be sure
that Nicodemus would miss a certain academic
flavor in Jesus' speech dear unto scholars,
and that his ecclesiastical reverence would
be shocked at Jesus' iconoclasm. Still it
remains that one honest man recognizes
another, and an earnest seeker is ready to
welcome truth. The Master had the note
of sincerity, and Nicodemus was irresistibly
attracted. For years he had been weary
of empty rites, hackneyed phrases, barren
methods; he craved for reality, and Jesus
was real. If there was a secret of truth,
this young provincial had it, and Nicodemus
determined to have an interview with Jesus.

A SCENE IN THE JOPPA OP TO-DAY.
Joppa, now become Jaffa, is a place of about
5,000 iDhaljitniitp, of whom less than 200 are Jews :
the larj^re uiajority are Moi*lcmH.

Had he been a private person — a mere
fisherman of Galilee— he had simply followed
Jesus along the street and gone openly with
Him into His lodgings; the obscure are
always disguised. For Nicodemus to ac-
company Jesus from the Temple might have
created a sensation, which would have been
most hateful to his temperament and would
have led to unprofitable gossip. Besides
his scholarly dislike to vulgar notoriety he
was bound to consider the effect his action
would have on his colleagues, with whom he
was bound to act in concert, and on the
public, who looked to him for guidance. An
irresponsible person might be rash without
danger ; from him Jerusalem had a right to
expect caution and gravity. It may be al-
lowed, as the fourth Evangelist suggests, that
fear had something to do with the expedient
of Nicodemus. Nothing is more common than
the union of physical courage which despises

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON.

287

pains with intellectual cowardice which re-
fuses light; and of physical cowardice which
shrinks from pain with intellectual courage
which is afraid of no truth. Of the latter
type was Nicodemus, the Erasmus of Jesus'
day. His habits made him timid, and he
missed the high place which might have
been his ; but he was honest, and his bra-
very grew with practice, so that in the end
he was one of the faithful few who laid the
Master to rest.

St. John seems to have had a house in the
capital, and there most likely Jesus and
Nicodemus met in the stillness of night, with
no sound to disturb save the spring wind
blowing down the street, with no witness
save John, quiet, watchful, sympathetic,
standing in the shadow of the room. They
present a vivid and suggestive contrast : the
old Rabbi, pallid, thought-worn, weary, the
type of that which has grown old and is ready
to vanish away ; and the young prophet, the
child of the open air, with the light of hope
upon his face, representing that which is to
be. It was the day of transition, and it
could not pass without suffering, for the old
man's heart would almost break before he
closed the door on the venerable
and pious traditions of the past
which had been his faith ; and,
before Jesus had finally opened
the gate of the new, His hands
would be pierced with nails. . So
in this humble place the old and
the new met face to face, and
through the open window entered
the wind of God.

With his first words Nicodemus
reveals his position, and one is
struck by the immense difference
between the old and the new.
Nicodemus acknowledges at once
that Jesus is a Rabbi, and that
He has Divine sanction, which was
very candid and generous, and
thus it is evident that after this
courteous opening he proposed to
discuss the idea of the Kingdom
of God on the lines of Jewish
history. Jesus anticipates this
futility, and interrupts the smooth
flow of the good Rabbi's speech with one of His
most startling sayings : '* Verily, verily, I say
unto you, unless a man be born again he can-
not see the Kingdom of God ." Nicodemus be-

A JEW OP JERUSALEM.

the conventional view of God as a judicial
and national Deity. To the Galilean prophet
religion was an intuition of goodness, a spirit
of sonship, a service of liberty, with God as
the universal Father, spiritual, compassion-
ate, beneficent. Unto Nicodemus religion
was a rule ; to Jesus it was a life, and one
could only shift from the one position to the
other by an inspiration from above. How
often had Nicodemus desired to escape from
his environment, of which he was weary, with
its words, forms, unreality, and find himself
in a new, fresh, real world ! As if an old man,
gray, bloodless, shriveled, should be bom
again, and begin life with the wonder, trust,
and gladness of a little child. This vague
longing Nicodemus had cherished beneath
his formalism, but had put aside as a dream ;
and now Jesus had come to confirm the secret
expectation of his soul. This was how a doc-
trinaire passed into a disciple. Jesus eman-
cipated him.

The third interview was with a sinner,
Zaccheus, a chief publican in Jericho: and
had any one been in the town when Jesus
passed through, he had been apt to suspect
that there were two men called Zaccheus,
with the most remarkable physi-
cal likeness and the most extreme
moral unlikeness. A Pharisee
would give an exceedingly dis-
couraging biography of Zac-
cheus : that he had prosecuted a
disreputable business with brazen
effrontery, and accumulated a
fortune out of the sufferings of
the poor ; that he had been guilty
*of many acts of gross injustice,
and that he associated with the
most abandoned people; that he
never attended the synagogue;
and that, as he, the Pharisee had
reason to believe, he led a wicked
life. And all this the Pharisee
believed, for this was the only
Zaccheus the Pharisee knew.
When Jesus caught the look in the
publican's face, and remembered
what he had heard of him. He saw
another Zaccheus, who had once
cherished the enthusiastic dreams
of youth and had been lowered by circum-
stances into an unfortunate business; who
had allowed himself to do many things
which filled him with disgust, and who winced

gan with one idea of religion, and Jesus with under the ostracism of society; who could
another. To the Jewish scholar religion was not cross the door of the synagogue because
the acceptance of dogma, the observance of he had been excommunicated, and who had
ritual, the performance of good works, with flown in the face of convention^ religion-be-

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288

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER,

cause conventional people had insulted his
wife and children ; who would have given all
he had to win the good opinion of his fellow-
men, and who longed for some one to hold
out a helping hand to him. This was the
Zaccheus Jesus knew.

For years the religious people of Jericho
had been doing all they knew with Zaccheus,
and they had made a poor business of their
efforts at salvauon. They had tried advice,
denunciation, ostracism, excommunication,
in vain : one plan they had not thought of,
and that was believing in Zaccheus. This
was the original idea of Jesus, who did not
preach at Zaccheus, but instead thereof asked
his hospitality. He could have stayed at any
house in Jericho; He went to the house of
a man who had been put in the pillory and
pelted for a generation. When the Master
said, '* Zaccheus, come down, I must abide
at thy house to-day," the publican heard the
Gospel for the first time, and saw the clouds
break above his head. One man trusted him,
and that man Jesus of Nazareth. As Jesus
went along the street with him under the

reproach of the people, as the Master spake
kindly to His host, who had never received a
gracious word in his life from a good man,
as the Friend of women and children gave
gentle, respectful greeting to Zaccheus' fam-
ily, the heart of ZsKScheus melted within him.
Jesus had treated him as if he were the most
honorable, generous, and upright man in
Jericho. This, God knew, he had not been;
but this, with God's help, he was going to
be. *' Lord, the half of my goods I now
give to the poor." Jesus had not asked
him. ** If I have wronged any man, this
day shall I return him fourfold." Jesus had
not suggested such misdeeds. Before the
charity of the Master the chains of avarice,
and dishonesty, and pride, and bitterness
broke, and Zaccheus stood a free man bef<H«
God and his fellow-men. This was God's Zac-
cheus. Who had been right, the Pharisee
or Jesus, in his judgment or his method ?
** Behold him," said Jesus in the triumph
of grace, " he also is a son of Abraham."
And so Jesus saved a sinner by believing in
him.

(Tobf contitiufil.)

A JEW OP JERUSALEM AND HIS DONKEY.

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M9CLUR
MAGAZI

FOR AUGUST

Two

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(Extract from a letter written by a subscriber of
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"I do not think that Pears'
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Drawn by W. R. Lttgh after aketchet by the author,

THE END OP THE BOAT-BATTLE.

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McClure'S Magazine.

Vol. XV.

AUGUST, 1900.

No. 4.

A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

By Lieutenant-Commander James C. Gillmore, ¥. S. N.
With Illustrations by W. R. Leigh, prom Skotchbs and Plans by the Author, and drawn

UNDER his personal SUPERVISION.

Editor's Note. — ^In the following paper, and in another to be published in the September namber of
McClure'S Magazine, Lieutenant Gillmore tells the story of his boat-battle with Filipinos on the east coast
of Luzon, his capture and narrow escape from execution, his extraordinary experiences during eight months of
captivity, his journeys for hundreds of miles through the interior of Luzon, and his rescue by American troops
just after he and his six comrades had been abandoned by their guards in the mountains and when their murder
by the savage tribes seemed imminent.

more than eight
months a little
band of fifty Span-
ish officers and
men had held out
against 500 Fili-
pinos. The Span-
iards were in a
church at Baler,
a straggling town
on the east coast
of Luzon. They
had barricaded
doors and win-
dows, and trans-
formed the sham-
bling old church
into a rude for-
tress, stocked with
provisions and am-
munition. Night and day, by unceasing vig-
ilance they had fought oflf the persistent
besiegers. Admiration for human bravery
is as wide as the world, and stops at no fron-
tiers of race or nation. Admiral Dewey and
General Otis, the American naval and mili-
tary commanders at Manila, though not with-
out troubles of their own, felt deep sympathy
for the handful of Spaniards engaged in that
long, desperate struggle against heavy odds.
At length a rescuing expedition was decided
on, and the ** Yorktown" was assigned to

the difficult task of relieving the besieged
men. I had just arrived in the Philippines,
and right glad was I when ordered aboard
the **Yorktown" as navigating officer.
The adventure was quite to my liking. We
steamed from Manila round the southern
coast of Luzon and arrived at Baler Bay
April 11th.

A wooded shore spread out before us.
We could smell the fragrance of the forest.
At the southern side of the bay was a small
cove, where luxuriant plants and underbrush
ran almost to the water's edge, and the
shadows of the forest fell invitingly upon
sandy beach and rippling shoals. Just north
of this was the mouth of the Baler River,
and along the shore upon the far side we
could see a number of sentry boxes, and
Filipino soldiers running about among them,
apparently in a state of great excitement.
The town of Baler was not to be seen, even
from the masthead of the "Yorktown,"
for it lay two miles up the river, and was
screened by the tropical forest which grew
all round it. Before plans could be laid for
the relief of the garrison it was necessary to
locate the church and the enemy's defenses,
if any existed. Accordingly Ensign Stand-
ley was sent ashore under a flag of truce.
His instructions were to communicate with
the Spaniards, if the insurgents would permit
him to do so, and if he thought it prudent

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292

A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

to make the effort. To his surprise the na-
tive officers promptly agreed to permit him
to visit the church, accompanied by an in-
terpreter and two of his men. There was
something suspicious about the alacrity with
which the natives assented to this proposal.
Filipino treachery was not by any means an
unknown thing among our American troops,
and Ensign Standley decided not to place
himself within the power of the uncertain
foe. He returned to the ship and offered
to lead a scouting
party ashore.

The commanding
officer of the
** Yorktown " at
once sent for me.
He had a little job
for me to do, one
which would proba-
bly keep me away
from the ship for
an hour or two. I
was to take a boat
and crew next
morning, and under
cover of darkness
land Ensign Stand-
ley and Quarter-
master Lysac, who
were tomakearec-
onnoissance. I was
not to go ashore
myself, but having
landed the two men
was to sound at
the river's mouth
and survey the
coast. If necessary
I was to make a
demonstration,
which might serve
to divert attention
from the two
scouts.

THE LANDING.

It was still dark when we left the ship in
the second cutter a little after four o'clock
the morning of the 12th. There were sev-
enteen of us in the boat, all told — Standley
and Lysac, the scouts ; myself and boat crew
composed of Chief Quartermaster Walton,
Sailmaker's Mate Voudoit, Coxwain Ells-
worth, Gunner's Mate Nygard, Seamen Ryn-
ders, Woodbury, Brisolese, and McDonald,
Landsmen Dillon, Morrissey, Edwards, and
Anderson, and Apprentices Venville and Pe-
terson. With muffled oars, and every man

forbidden to speak above a whisper, we pulled
for the cove. In the thickest of the shore-
line shadows we landed the two scouts, who
quickly disappeared in the woods. Not a
sound had we made, and we were flattering
ourselves that the stupid Filipinos had been
completely outwitted; but at the critical
moment, as we were pulling out of the cove,
the day came down upon us. Like a flash
the tropical dawn spread oversea and coast,
first lifting the ** Yorktown " out of dark-
ness, then dissolv-
ing the shadows
round about our
boat, and finally
blotting out the
blackness of the
wooded shore-line,
and streaking and
dotting it with
expanding lights.
The men rowed
silently and swiftly
toward the ship,
while I swept the
shore with my
glass. I saw a pa-
trol pacing to and
fro upon the beach.
He walked sleepily.
His gun was held
at a lazy angle
over his shoulder.
Suddenly he paused.
The buttof his rifle
was plumped down
into the sand. His
right hand came up
to shield his eyes
from the fast-
rising eastern light.
Then he started
running and waving
his arms, and out
over the waters I
could hear the echoes of his shouts of alarm.
Nothing would have been easier for us
than to finish rowing our way back to the
** Yorktown." But the two shipmates hid-
ing over there in the woods were first to be
thought of. Fearing the sentry might sus-
pect we had landed men in the cove, and
wishing to do all 1 could to deceive him and
thus avert pursuit of our scouts, I had the
boat pulled round to the mouth of the river,
as if we had been seeking the river all the
time, but had gone into the cove by mistake.
To promote the deception, I stopped at the
bar to make soundings and to sketch the

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UEUTENANT-COMMANDER J. C. GILLMORE, U. S. N.
Drawn from life, June, 1900, Waahington, D. C.

A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

coast, as ostentatiously as I could, as if that
were the only errand which had called us
forth so early in the morning. Then we
continued up the river for about a thousand
yards, sounding and sketching as we went
along. I knew that we should have to sus-
tain the fire of the enemy as we came out of

emy's country with their guns and their lives
in their hands. Our ruse worked success-
fully so far as the scouts were concerned,
for they got back to the ship that afternoon.
We were not so lucky.

When we had pulled up the river as far
as I thought it prudent to go, we found the

Deawn bt W. R. LnoH Arricit flmrrcHiBi bt rmt Author.

" The naUvet lined uaupina rote oh the eand-bar. .

they teere going to ahoot tur."

the river, but we were not afraid of that. Fi-
lipino marksmanship is never good ; besides,
we had a Colt gun in the bow of our boat, and
most of our crew were armed with Lee rifles,
which they knew how to use, and their am-
munition belts were well filled. To tell the
truth, we were more than willing to have a
little brush with the foe, especially if that
would help to avert suspicion and danger
from brave Standley and Lysac, who had a
few moments before jumped into the en-

right bank high, steep, and thickly wooded.
We had no reason to fear attack from that
quarter, but cautiously kept well over to
the other side of the channel. There the
shore was low and marshy, deep with mud,
covered with high swamp grass ; clearly the
enemy could not get at us from this bank.

THE AMBUSH.

I had just given the order to return, and
the men were in the act of swinging the cut-

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294

A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

ter round, when before our astonished eyes
the low mud shore lifted into a bit of high,
wooded ground. It was not more than fifty
or sixty yards from us. There stood a sen-
try, and he saw us the very moment we saw
him. He fired his rifle as a signal, and dis-
appeared in the woods. Still, we did not
fully realize our danger. We thought we
should be attacked, but we could reply.
If the range was short for the foe, it was
no longer for us. If worst came to worst,
we could pull farther off; and then^there
was the rapid-firing Colt. Trouble was com-
ing—that seemed clear enough— but on the
whole we were rather glad, and we had not
the slightest doubt the other fellows were
going to get at least their fair share of it.

Trouble came more quickly than we had
bargained for. Within a minute after the
disappearance of the sentry a volley burst
out of the thick brush which covered the bit
of high ground. Bullets hissed all round us.
Some of them took effect. Morrissey was
shot through the head and instantly killed.
His brains flew over the boat and the crew.
He fell heavily, like a tree struck by light-
ning, and carried another man down with
him. Dillon was pulling at his oar. A
ball caught him in the eye, and he never
knew what had hit him. He, too, toppled
over and plowed down through the sailors
sitting, oars in hand, upon the thwarts,
knocking one or two of them into the bot-
tom of the boat. Rynders, the starboard
stroke oar, felt something go wrong with
his left hand. A chance shot, running along
the oar and taking advantage of the tense
muscles and taut joints, had cut off all the
fingers as a surgeon's knife might have done
it. The man held the bleeding stumps up
for me to see.

** You are fearfully wounded, Rynders,"
said I ; " you may drop your oars."

** Oh, no, it is not much," he replied; ** I
am used to this sort of thing. I used to be
in the Dutch navy."

That he had once served in the Java fleet
was one of Rynders' little hobbies, and as
he returned to his work I had just time to
think something about the ruling passion.
Then I looked at the other men. They, too,
were calm. They did not speak to one an-
other or cry out. They were trying their
best to obey my order to back oars so as to
work the boat farther out. Some of the
landsmen were firing their Lees. Walton
and Voudoit were in the bow, trying to get
the Colt into action again. They had fired
a few rounds from it, but it had been dis-

abled by the enemy's second volley, the am-
munition box being shattered and the load-
ing tape cut. The two men were cool and
deliberate, but they were not able to repair
the gun. Walton had the visor of his cap
shot away. Voudoit found several holes in
his jacket.

THE BOAT-BATTLE.

More volleys came cracking and hissing at
us from out of the brush. I was standing
in the stem of the boat. By my side were
McDonald and Nygard. They fell, both mor-
tally wounded, adding their bodies to the
heap which was fast accumulating in the
cutter's bottom. At this moment it seemed
to me my boat-crew had almost disappeared.
As a matter of fact, two men were Ijdng in
the bottom of the boat, dead. Two were
mortally wounded — Dillon was just then
dying. Two more were seriously wounded,
and two or three, who had been toppled over
by the fall of their comrades, were strug-
gling out from imder the mass of bleeding
flesh. The wounded were begging us to
shoot them, that they might not fall into the
hands of the savages. Their cries were
heart-rending. There was blood everywhere
— on men, oars, thwarts, guns. Still, those
of us who survived — and who were able to
handle a rifle — managed to return the enemy's
fire. The worst was, we could not see any
one to shoot at. We could not even see the
smoke from the insurgents' rifles, so warily
did they cling to their ambush in the thick
undergrowth. I remember most vividly the
fierce desire I had at that moment to get
back at the foe — to see some of them fall
and bite the dust and writhe in pain as our
men were doing. For a short time the fight-
ing instinct crowded out of my mind pity and
fear.

Having no other weapon than a revolver,
useless at that range, I reached for the rifle
dropped by one of the dead. It had been
hit in the lock, and the clip was jammed in.

Venville, one of our apprentice boys, at-
tempted to fix it. A bullet went through
the flesh of his neck.

''Mr. Gillmore, I'm hit," he said. But
he continued working at the rifle.

A second shot plowed through the boy's
breast and came out in his arm-pit.

** I'm hit again, Mr. Gillmore! "

He was still trying to pull out the jammed
clip when a ball cut a furrow in the left side
of his head.

** Mr. Gillmore, they've hit me again! "^

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A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

295

THE BRAVERY OF A BOY.

He wiped the blood from his brow and
eyes with his coat-sleeve, and then returned
to his task as calmly as if it were only a
mosquito that had stung him. It was not
three minutes till a ball crashed into his
ankle, inflicting a painful hurt. There was
just a slight quiver in the lad's voice as he
looked up to me and said :

** Mr. Gillmore, Tm hit once more. But
I've fixed the gun, sir! **

This beardless boy of seventeen had never
been under fire before.*

I heard bullets singing past me. One
cut the loose folds of my blouse. Others
passed so near to my face that I could feel
little whirrs of air brushing cool against the
skin. Obviously the insurgents were con-
centrating their fire upon me. First Mc-
Donald and Nyberg, and then little Venville,
had stopped the bullets which just missed
the man at whom they were aimed. I fired
at the brush again and again, but it was mad-
dening to hear the incessant whistle of bul-
lets and see one's men dropping round him
and not be able to draw sight upon a single
one of the foe. I had been under fire be-
fore, but never like this. I remember when
I stood upon the deck of the ** St. Paul " as
we attacked the ** Terror" off San Juan.
Heavy shot were fljdng, and there was dan-
ger, but I did not mind it at all. There
every man had as good a chance as every
other man — it was only a few shot against a
big ship. Here I felt that I was the target, the
hunted man, and this made it all the more
bitter to be compelled to endure a galling
fire which could not be effectively returned.
Would the cowards never show themselves ?

Now the boat was drifting with the strong
tide nearer and nearer the enemy. The men
at the oars worked nobly — and it required
nerve to sit there and keep stroke with one's
back turned to a rain of lead — but no head-
way was made. Several of the starboard
oars had been shattered by the heavy .45
Remington balls, and that side of the cutter
was pierced with many bullet-holes. Ells-
worth, the coxswain, who also occupied an
exposed position, flinched not a hair's breadth
under the hot fire, but coolly directed and
encouraged his men. Seeing that it was
useless to struggle further with the oars,
Ellsworth, Woodbury, and Edwards jumped

♦ The fate of the boy Venville ie unknown. Lieutenant
Gillmore has done hie bfet to learn what became of the lad,
and in his inquiry has had the asttietance of Admiral Wateon.
The wounded apprentice waa left at Baler, and no tidings of
hlra have since been received.

overboard on the port side and tried to swim
the boat out. Despite their efforts, we
drifted slowly toward a bank of sand. Soon
we struck. More bullets whistling round
our heads, and still not an enemy to be seen !
Do the wretches never intend to show them-
selves in the open ?

THE CAPTURE.

Here they come, after all— a motley crew,
like savages, half -nude, some in shirts, some
with only trousers, a few with nothing more
than breech-clouts, armed with bolos, spears,
and a rifle here and there, ail mad with joy,
yelling and brandishing their weapons — run-
ning down the spit of sand from the right
bari of the river. They were Tagals, Prin-
cipes, and other tribesmen. By my order
the white flag was hoisted at this moment.
The man who held it aloft received a ball in
the wrist, and the banner came fluttering
down to the bottom of the boat. If the tide
would not let us get away, if the foe would
not permit us to make surrender, there was
one thing we could do with what strength
we had left, and that was to go on fighting.
We resumed our fire.

From the left bank we had heard nothing
up to this time but the crack of unseen
rifles. Now a voice rang out from the
thicket. It announced to us in Spanish that
unless we ceased firing and surrendered we
should all be murdered in our tracks. The
tones were those of an ofiicer— a voice ac-
customed to command — and realizing that
the threat might quickly be made good, I
threw up my arms in token of submission.
There were no more shots.

In an instant the savage band were upon
us. They were wild with excitement. They
jabbered incessantly, and threatened us with
their bolos and spears. But they did us no
harm. One by one, those of us who were
living they took out of the boat. They were
not rough or cruel. They treated the
wounded carefully. More than our lives
they appeared to covet our personal belong-
ings. In a twinkling we were stripped of
our coats, hats, shoes. They rifled our
pockets for money, watches. They even
pulled the rings from our fingers. All this
time my men were calm and silent. They
did not resist.

THE INTERRUPTED CEREMONY.

Then the natives lined us up in a row on
the sand-bar. They tied our hands behind

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296

A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS,

our backs with bamboo thongs. We thought
they were merely making ready to carry us
away as prisoners. But soon we perceived
it was worse than that — they were going to
shoot us. By signs I objected to having my
arms bound. I tried to show that it was my
right as an officer to die with my hands
free. This brought on a difference of opin-
ion, a noisy discussion, among our captors,
who, though soldiers in the Filipino army,
appeared to be without officers and without
discipline. The delay thus secured, short as
it was, served a good purpose. The natives
who carried guns stepped out in front of us.
They lowered their rifles and cocked them.
They were taking aim. I was just thinking :
** Well, it will all be over in a few seconds
— why did I not take out more life insurance
before I left home?" when we heard a
shout from the right bank. We all looked
that way, Tagals and Americans. A native
officer came running toward us along the
sand-spit. He was shouting and brandish-
ing a sword. We did not understand him,
but the Filipinos did. They dropped their
rifles and crowded about us. We were not
to be shot, so it didn't make any difference
about that life insurance, after all.

This Tagal officer sent us aboard our boat
and ordered us to row over to the left bank
of the river. We started to obey, but had
to stop and bale out the cutter and plug
up the bullet holes in its side. When we
reached the opposite bank, an officer and
forty men were drawn up to receive us.
The officer was a Spaniard. We were al-
lowed to take the two mortally wounded
men out of the boat, and make them as com-
fortable as we could in the shade of trees.
All we could do was to place tourniquets on
their wounds and leave water beside them.
The natives would not permit us to bury our
dead comrades, and their bodies were left
lying in the boat. I asked the officer to
have a surgeon sent down to look after the
wounded, but I could never ascertain whether
this was done or not.

Leaving our dead and dying behind and
carrying our wounded with us, we were
marched under guard to the commandante's
office, a mile or so away. We passed within
sight of the church where the Spanish gar-
rison were still besieged. The outer walls
had been battered down, but the natives
were careful not to go within gunshot, and
by this we knew the Spaniards were still on
guard within. Besides, a Spanish ensign
was flying from the top of the fortress, and
I confess it did me good to see it there. On

our way to the commandante's Woodbury
said to me :

** Mr. Gillmore, I think I am wounded."
" Pull up your shirt and let me see."
Sure enough, in the fleshy part of his back
I found a gaping wound. In it was a .45
Remington brass ball from a Filipino rifle,
and this ball was embedded in a brass car-
tridge case torn out of Woodbury's ammuni-
tion belt. The piece of brass was bent
V-shaped in the sailor's body ; it had checked
the force of the bullet and saved his life.
Woodbury said he had received the wound
at the firist volley, before he jumped over-
board and tried to help swim the boat out.

The commandante asked us many ques-
tions. He was particularly eager to learn
what we had been doing in the river. He
evidently suspected we had landed scouts,
but I told him I had been making a survey.
He permitted me to write a letter to the
commander of the '* Yorktown," and he
promised to have it delivered under a flag of
truce. He never did so.

THE GOOD SAMARITAN.

Next we were marched a mile and a half
to a bamboo church in the outskirts of Baler.
We saw the town as we passed — a mere hud-
dle of native huts ; the women and children,
most of them half nude, ran excitedly after
us. On the way our wounded suffered
severely. It was only with great difficulty
some of them could drag themselves along.
Others we had to carry. At the church a
good Samaritan came to their assistance.
He was an old man, poorly attired, but he
had fine eyes and a kindly, almost fatherly,
manner. He ran out into the woods and
hastily gathered some large leaves. From
these he squeezed a white liquid and let it
run in the wounds. For a few moments the
agony was so great the sufferers thought
they could not endure it. They cried out
that they were being burned to death, that
the old man had poisoned them. Perspira-
tion poured from their bodies. The old man
smiled and tenderly stroked the head of the
boy Venville, and muttered in Spanish that
they would all feel better by and by. He
was right. In ten or twelve minutes the
men were free from pain. The inflammation
was gone and their fever had subsided . Ven-
ville's foot, which had been frightfully swol-
len, resumed nearly its natural size. The
succored men seized the old man's hand and
shook it in gratitude. If we had had any-
thing left we should have made him pres-

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A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS,

297

ents. We all felt better for this one touch
of nature there in the jungle. I could never
learn anything more about the old man or
his healing herb, though I made many in-
quiries then and afterward. Some day, per-
haps, the world may get a new balm out of
Luzon.

That day and night we passed in this rude
church, a mere shed of bamboo in the midst
of the forest. The unwounded men and my-
self lay on one side, the wounded on the
other. The guards were kind enough, but
very careful that we should have no oppor-
tunity to escape. All through the night
they kept a bright fire just without the door.
The unwounded men were bound together by
a long rope. For some reason I was not
bound. The Filipinos are great respecters
of military rank, and perhaps my protest
against the bamboo thongs down on the
sand-bar had produced some effect upon
them. So greatly were we fatigued that we
all slept well. Now and then in the night a

wounded man cried out
guard carried him drink.

for water, and a

ON THE MARCH.

Next day a runner brought orders from
Aguinaldo to march us to St. Isidro, the
insurgent capital. In the afternoon eight
of us, all who were able to travel, set out
upon a journey through the interior of the
enemy's country — a journey so long and at
times so hopeless that we often despaired of
ever reaching the end of it. A sorry-look-
ing lot we were. All of us were bareheaded
and barefooted, save thati hadmanaged to se-
cure the return of my coat and shoes, the lat-
ter mere slippers which I had worn from the
ship because it would be easy to kick them
off in case I were forced to take to the
water. Our clothing was so scanty that it
barely^ sufficed to cover our nakedness. For
two days the route led us through tortuous
river-beds. We had to wade the swift

Dhaww by W. R. Leigh ArrER Skktciiks by tiik Atmioii.

" At the church a yood Samaritan came to their ataietance."

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298

A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

streams, in water from our knees to our matters worse, a heavy rain came on, and
necks, twenty, thirty times in a day. Our we were without shelter save that each man
feet were cut by the sharp stones of the was given two big leaves of the bamboo

1>RAWN BY W. R. LKUJII AKTKK HKKTCIIKfl BT TUB AUTHOR.
*AmfrrjMtthtrod€ieHtHthethickunderorfneth. . . . monkeys Jtibbeml angrily andthmvnutii and ttplga at tin a» tre jtatntrd."

path. Our hands and shins were bruised
clambering over great boulders and up and
down steep, stony banks. The heat was op-
pressive, and the fierce rays of the sun blis-
tered our unprotected faces and gave us
frightful pains in the head. Our guard, a
straggling band of semi-savages, canying
bows and arrows and spears and bolos, and
conwnanded by a Tagal corporal, urged us
unceasingly on.

The first night out we were well up in
the mountains. It was cold there. To make

palm. These we arranged over our heads
in the vain hope that they might serve to
keep off some of the rain. A few of the
men managed to sleep a bit, but my eyes did
not close through the whole night. 1 sat
on a boulder in a pool of water till daybreak.
We had but little to eat, though there was
consolation in the fact that our guards had
no more than we. At this camp old man
Voudoit came near dying. He had suffered
a sort of sunstroke while on the march in
the broiling sun.

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A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS,

299

We set out early the next morning with
only a few mouthfuls of rice for breakfast,
and all chilled and soaked to the marrow.
Again the intense heat of the sun. Once
more the rocky river-bed with the great
boulders to clamber over, the banks to crawl
up and down, the waters to wade. At this
time some of the men thought of attempting
an escape, which could mean only a shot in
the back and a quick way out of their
troubles.

Finally we struck a trail through the
primeval forest — a mere path trodden in the
thick undergrowth beneath the branches of
mighty trees. So steep was the way that
our weakened, foot-
sore men made prog-
ress only at the cost
of constant suffering.
There were monkeys
in the trees, and they
jabbered angrily and
threw nuts and twigs
at us as we passed.
They afforded us some
amusement, these
monkeys, and we were
interested in the bril-
liant plumage of the
birds. Under proper
conditions we should
have enjoyed this novel
journey from two to
three thousand feet
up the wild moun-
tain-side. Now it was
like a long nightmare.

and the people, bursting with curiosity, nearly
mobbed us as we passed along the roads.
They were not vindictive or rude, except in
spots ; in fact they were, for the most part,
rather kindly. It was easy to see that curi-
osity was their predominant emotion. They
not only wanted to see us but to touch us, to
see how strong we were, what kind of teeth
we had, if we were built like other men.
We learned that strange tales as to the
physical characteristics of Americans had run
all through these gossiping provinces, and
this was the first opportunity the natives
had had to see for themselves what the won-
derful strangers were like.

THE

WONDERING
TIVES.

NA-

After traveling
forty miles or more
along this winding,
painful path we at last
reached the level
table-land and the
town of Puntabanca.
Here, as everywhere
along our route, the
news that the ** Ame-
ricanos " were coming
had attracted crowds
of natives from all
the surrounding re-
gion. It was like a
circus in the country
districts of America.
We were the show,

MAP OP THE NORTHERN PORTION OP THE ISLAND OP LUZON, SHOWING THE
KOVfE FOLLOWED BY UEUTENANT4X)MMANDER GILLM

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300

A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

We were well received by the comman-
dante of Puntabanca. His name was Maria,
and he had been a captain in the Spanish
army. But he had married Aguinaldo's niece
— a love-match it was, so they told us — and
had then taken an important command in the
Filipino ranks. He made the men as com-
fortable as he could in the convent — at that
time almost every church or convent in Lu-
zon was a jail, a fortress, an arsenal, or a
hospital — and he took me to his own house
and gave me a good dinner. He appeared
rather weary of his native associates, and
glad of the chance to talk once more to a
civilized and traveled man.

This eastern part of Luzon was a rather
poor sort of country. For miles and miles
upon the table-land there was no cultivation.
The hard, beaten road led across a barren
waste baked in the sun of centuries. In
other sections there were bamboo huts scat-
tered about in the woods, surrounded by lit-
tle patches of tilled ground devoted to vege-
tables and tobacco. There were no fences,
no marking of the dividing line between one
plantation and another. Off the main road,
which had been built by the Spanish military
officers, there were only trails through the
brush. These farmers had but few live-
stock; here and there a caraboo
might be seen dragging a great cart
staggering along on its clumsy
wooden wheels, or patiently pulling
a primitive wooden plow through the
black soil. Round every farm-house
swarmed chickens and other
fowl. Rice, vege-
tables, and chick-
ens are almost the
only articles
of food the
natives know.

The people
came out of
the brush and
lined the trail
to see us
pass. They
were docile
enough, almost like children. Nearly all
of them were wretchedly clothed, many
being almost naked. Yet we conld not
fairly call them an uncivilized people — only
their civilization, like that of all peoples under
Spanish rule, was a couple of centuries behind
the times. In every little bamboo hut there
was a book or two. The people spoke to us
in Spanish or Tagal. All were eager to learn
English. One native, wearing not much

more than a breech-clout and a smile of
child-like pride, sang out to me, **' Hello!''
as I passed him, and his comrades looked up
to him with increased respect because of his
mastery of that one English word. Now
and then we came upon a little village — a
few score bamboo huts clustered about a
brick or wooden church with its convent
annex. The priests or friars in charge of
these buildings received us in a kindly way
and gave us food. It was easy to see they
were the civil as well as the spiritual leaders,
the dominating force of their communities.
One good thing they did — they kept school
in every village, and the native children were
compelled to attend.

We were nearly as naked as the poorest
of the natives, though our skin had not been
hardened through generations of exposure
to the rays of the sun, and we were soon
covered with blisters. Worse than all, our
heads and feet were still bare. At Punta-
bangua we were placed in charge of Captain
Fading y Gill, another former Spanish officer
who had cast in his lot with the Filipinos.
This officer, like all the Spaniards we met,
treated us with consideration. He tried to
procure clothing and shoes for us, but the
best he could do in this little mountain ham-
let was to provide us with hats of
native construction, and second-hand
at that— enormous contrivances
which looked like inverted wash-
basins. Wretched as we were, we
laughed at one another and cracked
our jokes as we set out upon our
journey, so grotesque
was our appearance.
The captain, taking
pity upon our bleeding
feet, had procured us
transpor tati on , too .
He meant it as a
kindness, and so we
could not well
complain, but
hard as it was
to go on walk-
i n g with
bruised and blistered bare feet, most of
us preferred it to riding a caraboo. These
native oxen of the Filipinos are not easily
managed . They are guided by a rope through
their nostrils— three jerks for a turn to the
left, one jerk for a turn to the right. Their
sliding, reeling gait is something dreadful
to the man sitting upon their back, and the
saddle was never invented that could save
him from being jolted and pounded into

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A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

301

perpetual misery. If the caraboo is not
watered every other hour he goes ** water-
mad," making the lot of his rider infinitely
worse.

A wonderful journey we had one night in

dense crowd of natives who fought with the
guards for the privilege of getting close
to the '* Americanos." Here the Spanish
priests had told the people we were red In-
dians, who wore feathers in our hair and

Drawn bt W. r Lnou ajter Skktcbks by thk Author.

DINNER TIME IN A FILIPINO HUT.

Theae native huts, built onpiUaabout three feet from theground^have for a floor aimpiy a layer of bamboo ptAea, between tehich the bonea,
rice, and other moraelafrom the family meal are dropped to thepiga and chickena which atearm beneath.

the soft moonlight — over precipitate moun-
tain spurs, down into gloomy, broken canons,
crawling around immense boulders, fording
swift streams, forcing our way through dense
brushwood. So rough was the trail that
even the caraboo could not keep their feet,
and we had many tumbles. The scenery
was most beautiful, and if the caraboo had
been a little surer-footed if they had not
jolted us till we were black and blue all over
our bodies, if the brush had not torn our
scanty clothing and lacerated our poor flesh,
we might have enjoyed the picturesque sur-
roundings. At Bongabong we ran into a

scalped our victims in war. I think the
priests got the notion from some old school-
books and really believed it themselves. One
native woman followed me persistently, and
finally, after much trouble, succeeded in
getting close enough to pinch my arm and
to ask in Spanish what I had done with my
feathers.

This childlike curiosity followed us wher-
ever we went. It really formed one of the
most objectionable features of our captiv-
ity. When we arrived at AguinaMo's cap^
ital, St. Isidro, several thousand people met
us and hooted and jeered and called us all

302

A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

manner of vile names in Tagal and Spanish.
Our sailormen, after the manner of their
kind, hurled back at them as good as they
sent, or perhaps I should say worse. This
was one of the peculiarities of our little
band — they did not appear to be afraid of
anything in the island of Luzon. They
ordered the guards about like servants,
**sassed" the natives all along the road,
blarneyed prison keepers and minor officials,
and laughed in the faces of Filipino bravos
who brandished bolos in their faces and
threatened to disembowel them. I think
this intrepidity of our men earned for us the
respect of our captors. At any rate, we
were treated much better than the Spanish
prisoners who at times formed part of our
caravan. Nor were any of us ever flogged,
as many of the Spanish prisoners were. In
many ways we could see that the Filipinos
had kindlier feelings toward Americans than
for Spaniards, and they may have had a
secret fear, too, that in the end our people
were going to get the upper hand of them,
and punish them for all transgressions of
military law. In the case of the Spaniards
the Tagals were merely paying off old
scores.

At St. Isidro the governor asked me the
same questions which all the petty presi-
dentes had asked in the villages along our
route: ** Where were you captured ? '*
** What were you doing there ? " ** Why
are the Americans, our former friends, now
fighting us ? " This governor was a man of
superior education. He had living with him
as interpreter, David Brown, an English-
Canadian prisoner, and was himself learning
English. After cross-questioning me half
an hour, and giving me a suit of undercloth-
ing, he sent me off to jail, where my men
and many other American prisoners were
confined. It was a crowded, filthy prison —
why is it that Spanish jails the world over
are so vile ? — and I was confined in a room
about fifteen by twenty-six feet along with
a dozen native prisoners. Some of them
were murderers, others thieves; but they
treated me very well, spending most of their
time gambling. The only complaint I had
to make of them was their curiosity, the
national weakness. Though I tried my best
U) secure a little privacy by rigging up a
curtain in my corner of the room, my
fellow-prisoners, male and female, were
always spying upon me, particularly when
I bathed.

This curiosity was not confined te the

prisoners. After bathing a few days in a
trough at the well in the prison court-yard,
used by men and women together, I secured
permission to go once a day to the river.
The hour of our bathing was known to the
townspeople, and it appeared to be quite
an event in their daily lives, for they had a
habit of gathering upon the river bank, men,
women, and children, all smoking cigars,
patiently waiting for a close view of the
half-stripped ** Americanos."

While we were at this jail about fifty Ne-
gritos were brought in from the front. They
were all that remained of a regiment which
had been forced to face our American troops,
though armed only with bows and arrows,
spears and bolos. It was simple murder to
send these unwilling wretches to fight against
modern magazine rifles, and this little band
had refused to remain longer under fire.
Then they were arrested and treated as com-
mon criminals. In prison they were miser-
ably fed, and their captors often forced them
to show their games and war dances for our
amusement. These Negritos were under-
sized, nearly naked, and remarkably ugly.
They had all had their teeth filed down
sharp, like the teeth of a saw. However,
they were good-humored fellows, and we
got along quite well with them. All they
wanted was tobacco and something to gam-
ble with.

Aguinaldo's capital was a well-built town
with regular streets and many brick build-
ings, not unlike a European town of 8,000
or 10,000 population. The house occupied
by the family of the insurgent chief was
pointed out to us, but we did not see him ;
and as we were locked up all the time, of
course we had no opportunity to ascertain
what sort of a government organization he
maintained there. In a few days there were
rumors of a near approach of the American
troops, and great excitement prevailed among
the people. From our prison we could see
them running to and fro. The streets were
filled with caratons, or native carts, laden
with all manner of household effects, and
surrounded by panic-stricken, jabbering
men, women, and children, breaking for the
mountains. Once we thought we could hear
the distant rumble of our artillery, and then
it was our turn to become excited. Per-
haps rescue was at hand.

But no. Orders soon came to march, and
in a few hours we were again on our weary
way over the hills, through the mud, across
the rivers, from jail to jail in Luzon.

{To be conclutfed fteott month.)

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-•C^-.-ii^^^i^V,,

CAVALLERTA RUSTICANA.

A NEBRASKA STOKY.
By George Beardsley.

' W^^ certainly FU dubate with him of
VV course why not, do you seei Why
looky here blank blankit if he wants to du-
bate with me why in blank blank shouldn't I
give him the chance, do you seei "

The speaker was Bobbie Grant, Populist
candidate for the Legislature. He spoke
very fast, in the high-keyed voice common to
a class of rural Nebraskans, without punc-
tuation until the end, where he turned the
interrogation point upside down after his in-
evitable "do you seei"

"That's all right. Bob," said Smith, the

Fusionist county chairman, a little one-eyed
old Mormon, with a quaver in G, and a stout
cane. " I admire your nerve, Bobbie, and all
that ; but Port Kicker's a lawyer, you want
to remember, and a skilled debater ; and, on
top of that, he's unscrupulous, as everybody
knows."

"'Aw, skillt your left eye- winker! And
as for unscroopolous what the diwel has
that got to do with it when I've got the right
on my side, do you see i " — the farmer smote
the air — " and most of the brains and the
substance and the hard work of Nebraska atp

304

CAVALLERIA RUSTIC ANA,

me back, do you see I Never you worry, old
man, I reckon FU have to do more or less of
the give and take kind o' spoutin' up at Lin-
coln when I'm elected, and if s as well if I
get some practice this side the Roobicon,
which is the North Platte, do you see i "

" But you're as good as elected now, Bob-
bie, my man. You've everything to lose and
nothing to gain."

" Well blank blankit I don't stand on that
for a minute, blank blanked if I do. If our
side's right, blank blankit, it'll win, spite o'
dubates, grasshoppers, the diwel and the
long drouth itself, do you see i And whafs
more" — the candidate riveted the watery
glance of the politician with his own honest
eyes — " and whafs more, me friend, Bobbie
the Populist, blank blankit, is not the man
to be af eared to st^ind up for what he repre
sents, do you seei Why of course, yes in-

* And oa for unacntopmloua irhat the diwel hatt tluit got to da with U
got the right on my tide . . ."

deed, I'll meet him, and so help me Bryan 111
not make any mistake, do you se€f ^ "

The emphatic Scotchman's primitive trust
in the strength of his cause had convinced
more pertinacious minds than that of the
county chairman.

"Well, well — as you will, Bobbie," said
that official. "Ifs yourself that's running,
to be sure ; and, if you choose to accept the
challenge, why, I say go in and wipe up the
Platte Valley with him. How's your folks,
now. Bob ?"

The reply came in an altered, lower tone,
with a note of anxiety.

"Only toler'ble, no more'n toler'ble, I
might say, Joe, thank you. As you know,
the woman's ailin' consider'ble this fall —
rheumatiz and such; and here lately it's
'fected her lungs. It was her account, as
you know, I mi^ed the meetin' at the Crick
last week."

" Well, don't worry on that score ; our
fences are all right out that way."

The husband paid no attention to the po-
litical remark.

" She ought to have let up on the work
long 'go," he said, " but my g-goodness, she's
that sot she just couldn't stop workin'. But
good-day to you, Joe. You can arrange the
deetails of that dubate — any way suits me,
only, say, put it the last day 'fore election —
climax, you know ; make it a sort
o' picnic for the folks — they mostly
need it, workin' as they are night
and day with the com and the stock,
do you see i"

The candidate hurried off before
the manager had time to object to
this most dangerous of all dates for
what he considered a dangerous
joint debate. But he reflected
that all his efforts to make the
farmer candidate see the wisdom
of tactical politics had been breath
wasted, and so he went forthwith
and accepted the challenge officially.
You may be sure the challenger
made no objection to the date so in-
nocently suggested by his adversary.
The debate was fixed for the very
last afternoon before the election,
at Platteville, and out of doors if the
weather should permit. Ricker,
the lawyer candidate, hugged him-
self with surprised delight when he
learned that his loaded gauntlet
was taken up so unsuspectingly.
" Why, I'll make such a monkey of
Bob," he chuckled at headquarters^

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CAVALLERIA RUSTIC ANA.

305

n.-M'< *i T'-iit .

•• The lateyer launched into Ma wt campaign tgpeech.**

" there won't be a jack-rabbit in the county ))ut
will be ashamed to vote for him next day."

All the particulars were arranged, and
Platteville and the country round billed ac-
cordingly. Half-sheet posters in gorgeous
red and green types announced :

UNPRECEDENTED POUTICAL FORENSICS!
POPULIST-REPUBLICAN JOINT-DEBATE.

Hon. rOIlTER RICKER

Hon. ROBERT GRANT,

Opposing Canilidatcs for the Legislature,

PLATTEVILLE (COTTONWOOD GROVE),

MONDAY BEFORE ELECTION, 2 p. m.

Special Rates on the U. P.

BRING YOUR DINNERS AND YOUR LADIES,

AND

HEAR BOTH SIDES!

COME ONE! COMK ALL!

Then the campaign waxed warm. Ricker,
the lawyer, spoke twice a day — afternoon
meetings at outlying crossroads (your simon-
pure farmer will not come to an evening
meeting, as every political manager knows)
— evenings in the towns. The prospect of
a tongue-to-tongue set-to with his inexperi-
encedantagonist at the critical moment put
him in fine fettle. He went about with the
air of confidence and good cheer of a man
who expects to win. Sometimes, when his
audience was one-sidedly cordial to his
speech, he would throw out little daring
prognostications of how he would carry the
enemy's works by storm on the next to the
last day. " Come and see the fun ! ^ he
shouted, and t|ie good-natured rustics
grinned and cheered and led him on. If his
spirits were extremely high, perhaps he
would throw reserve to the winds and troll
out jauntily —

Went to the animal fair.
All the Pops were there ;

and he and everybody laughed boisterously
over the conjured scene of Bobbie's rhetori-
cal discomfiting, and the expose of his Ar-
cadian unfitness for the ofiice of legislator
to the mighty interests of Nebraska.

Bobbie, meanwhile, pursued the even tenor
of his own campaign. As the weeks sped
and the days before the *' big dubate,'' as he
called it, became few, and he heard of Rick-
er's boasts, he was not disconcerted. He
was the same emphatic, profane, genial Bob.
** Are you shiverin'. Bob ?" a member of his
audience called up to him once. '' Pshaw !
don't be silly," said Grant ; "why in — " he
checked himself — "why should a fellow
shiver ? There's nought but one side to this
thing, as it happens, and thaf s the side we
happen to stand on, do you see ^ " He had
trained himself to leave off the blankity-
blanks in his public speeches ; but the " do
you seei" if he was momentarily off his
guard, stuck, and, I think, lost him no votes.
He, like Ricker, as epilogue to his speech
these last days and nights, invited his hear-
ers to come to the "big dubate," but he
never permitted himself to be drawn into
any boast that he would have the advantage.
Some one asked from the crowd : " What you
goin' do to him, Bobbie ?" and the hirsute
Bobbie looked bland and replied, "Why,
haven't you heard ? it's a joint dubate—
stand up and knock down arguf3ring, half-
hour rounds, do you seei — come, and bring
the women and the babies ! " And the

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CAVALLERIA RUSTIC ANA.

women agreed that Bobbie Grant did have a
" way with him."

But these final days^ those close to Grant
when the meetings adjourned marked the
disappearance of the confident look, and the
coming in its place of a worried expression
and a glance less stout-hearted. ' How is
the woman to-day, Bob ? ** they would ask
sympathetically, and the big fellow answered
only by a slow, solemn shake of the head.

"First time I ever seen Bob when he
wasn't cock-sure, dead certain, and blankity-
blank blank about a thing, do you seei"
said Somerville, the wag, aside.

The afternoon of Monday, the fifth, the
day before election, was crystalline. The
November sun seeped through the rifts of
the Cottonwood trees, warming the air to a
sparkling tonic, so that it was like a per-
fectly mellowed wine. The farmers and small
merchants and their families assembled in
holiday spirits. Old men were seen arguing
the issue earnestly with their brawny sons ;
wives sought to convince other wives ; sweet-
hearts in self-conscious white shoes bandied
the ball of debate, and opposition babes cooed
and crowed at one another over their mothers'
shoulders

Two o'clock came, and the meeting was
not called lo order. The minutes slipped by,
and the murmur was passed round that one
of the speakers was late. At 2.30 the party
managers and the vice-presidents of the
meeting, the chairman, and one of the candi-
dates climbed the flag-crowned creaking
platform gingerly. Voices everjrwhere de-
manded, " Where is Bobbie Grant ? " Somer-
ville, the wag, cried, " Bobbie's turned up
missin'," and there was a laugh. Populist
faces grew long and those of the opposition
triumphant.

" Backed down !" hazarded a fellow nobody
knew, evidently from the marches. Half-
Rome frowned, the other Half -Rome cheered
at first, and then thought better of it and
smothered the cheer. The chairman of the
meeting used his gavel.

" So far," said he, " Mr. Grant has not put
in an appearance. He is doubtless detained
unavoidably. As for backing down, I think
I may say that no one who has even so much
as a bowing acquaintance with a single hair
of Bobbie Grant's whiskers would dream of
hinting at such a thing."

The entire audience cheered. The chair-
man was the Platteville patriarch, beloved of
all, and was known as a pronounced enemy
of what he called the Don Quixote school of
bewhiskered politics ; so that his defense of

the absent candidate was especially gratify-
ing as a piece of fair play. Ricker, the lawyer,
who sat on the stage complacently twirling
his black mustache, cheered with the loudest
of them. One of his trump cards was the
admission of his opponent's solid human
traits ; he was content to argue that these
alone could not make a statesman. His
friends now called him to his feet. He re-
sponded gracefully, beginning by saying that
he would be the most disappointed man on
the ground " if Bobbie didn't show up." A
voice : " What were you goin' to do to him,
Port?" "Oh, nothing much," came the
ready answer from the speaker. The crowd
applauded, and he added rather importu-
nately :

"In fact, I didn't intend to do a thing to
him."

At this went up a howl of delight, which,
however, was not general. Bobbie's friends
began to drop away from the edges of the
gathering, then rapidly the meeting passed
into the hands of the other side. The lawyer
candidate launched into his set campaign
speech. Smith, the Pusionist county chair-
man, tried to interrupt him to say that a
messenger had been dispatched on horseback
to Mr. Grant's house, but the audience jeered
and yelled, "Sit down. Smith !"

The next thirty minutes were about the
longest one-half of that multitude had ever
waited out. Drifting from the crowd, they
met in knots of eight and ten about the grove
to discuss in low, serious voices the surpris-
ing turn affairs had taken.

" It will kill him at the polls," said many.

" It will," others assented, " unless he ex-
plains mighty handily, mighty soon."

" I bet his woman's worse," guessed one
man.

" I expect ; she's been right poorly here
lately."

Here and there a man speculated that per-
haps, after all, it was best for Bobbie that he
h^d stayed away. " Port's a powerful sharp
'un." But the farmer's backers would heax
no apology for their favorite ; they were as
sure he would have come off with glory if he
had met the appointment as they were that
he was staunch to the last and that his absence
would be well accounted for.

At length the messenger was descried re-
turning down the road full gallop. While
they waited impatiently the countr3mien made
small wagers on the character of Bob's ex-
planation.

" Bet a heifer it's his woman." The odds
were four to one that Bob's " woman " had

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CAVALLERIA RUSTIC AN A.

307

An unoerUiin tOenoe folUnotd the Mnmttional announeement.**

had a " sudden turn." They gathered about
the messenger as he rode up, demanding to
know his news. But this the young man re-
fused to disclose to any but his chief, Chair-
man Smith of i;he Fusion organization. To
that little man on the platform he elbowed
his way with some difficulty, and there was
a whispered report lasting some seconds.
The audience fidgeted and coughed through
the awkward suspense. Ricker had politely
left off speaking when the courier arrived,
and he, too, looked around quizzically to
Smith for the expected explanation. When
the ex-Mormon arose you could have heard
a pin drop. Smith was no hand at public

speaking, and wisely made short shrift of
the intelligence he had to impart.

" The simple fact is, ladies and gentlemen,'*
said he, coming* forward, "Mr. Grant is

staying at home with his wife

No, she is not worse — at least, he doesn't
say she is worse — but she is poorly, very
poorly, as we know, and it turns out that
this is her birthday. Bob says he never
once thought about the day before election
being the fifth of November, or of- course
he would not have agreed to this date for
the debate, much less suggested it himself.
He further says that tonday, with all their
talk and thought in connection with the an-

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H0 forgot aU about th« dOxMte,**

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THIRTY YEARS AGO.

309

niversary, he forgot all about the debate
until the messenger arrived. He says that
he has always m^e it a rule to spend this
anniversary by his wife's side, and could not
think of leaving her now, especially as she
is very sick. I may suggest that it will be
hard for us to blame him when we con-
sider that he probably feels this may be the
last time they will celebrate her birthday
together. Bob sends his apologies for dis-
appointing the audience, his opponent, and
the oflScers of this meeting.'*

An uncertain silence followed the sensa-
tional announcement. The situation was un-
usual,and not what had been expected. When
at length the stillness was broken, it was
broken by none other than Ricker, the Re-
publican candidate, and what he did was to
nod his head in decided approval and set up
a vigorous hand-clapping. The audience
took the cue instantly, and cheer upon cheer
went up for the devoted Bobbie, making an
ovation such as few men are ever honored
with in our matter-of-fact political life. Pop-
ulists forgot they were Populists, and Repub-
licans that they were Republicans ; all joined
together in unfeigned homage to the chivalry
of the absent candidate.

After the demonstration the meeting

quickly dissolved. The people appeared
quite to have transcended political matters.
Neighbors who had begun the afternoon
with band3ing the thread-worn arguments of
the campaign now exchanged kindly greet-
ings in modulated voices. Pairs of sweet-
hearts drove away with subdued glances to
be by themselves. Good wives had tender
words and inquiries for good wives, and the
children nestled sleepily amid the straw
in the wagons. The "big dubate'* was
a thing of the past. The teams rattled
off along the road, separated at the
forks, and scattered homeward over the
prairie.

The following winter, in the halls of legis-
lation at the State Capitol, one of the notable
figures among the new members was a very
tall, broad-shouldered, Scotchy man with at-
tenuated whiskers, who wore a wide black
band around his hat. His fellow members
listened respectfully when he addressed the
House — which, however, was not of ten— and,
when they approached, spoke to him with
awed voices, remembering the story that
had gone the rounds in the lobby and the
committee rooms of the member from Vista's
joint-debate.

TfllRTY YEARS AGO.

By E. S. Martin.

Read at Phillips Academy, Andover, Commencement, June 27, 1900.

We learned some Latin thirty years ago,
Some Greek; some other things — geometry;

Baseball; great store of rules by which to know
When thus was so, and if it was so, why.

And every day due share of pie we ate.

And Sunday under hour-long sermons sate.

And thrived on both ; a sound New England diet.

And orthodox. Let him who will decry it.

We spoke our Latin in the plain old way.

TuUy was Cicero to Uncle Sam,
And Caesar, Caesar. Footballs in our day

Were spheres of rubber still. When Autunm camc^ t

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310 THIRTY YEARS AGO.

We kicked them, chasing after; but the sport
Was a mere pastime, not at all the sort
Of combat, — strenuous, Homeric, fateful, —
Whence heroes now wrest glory by the plateful.

The higher criticism was an infant then.

Curved pitching had not come, nor yellow shoes.
Nor bikes, nor telephones, nor golf, nor men

In knickerbockers. No one thought to use
Electric force to haul folks up a hill.
We walked, or rode on Concord coaches still;
Expansion's quirks stirred then no fiercer tussles
Than such as vexed the growing vogue of bustles.

Girls then, as now, to seminaries went.

But not so much as now to colleges.
The female understanding's scope and bent

Was thought to crave a round of 'ologies
Ijess full than man's. We've learned, it seems, since then
That women need whatever's good for men.
And that, though boys are tough and girls more tender.
Knowledge is power, without regard to gender.

The shade austere of Puritan restraint
Showed sharper outlines, may be, then than now.

But not to hurt. For now the old complaint
Of joys curtailed, gives place to wonder how,

'Twixt stress of sports and pleasant things to do.

And waxing claims of growing knowledge too.

The modem lad gets time to feel the joy

It was, and still must be, to be a boy.

A checkered joy! Progress is man's desire.

And boys progress with swifter strides than men
To greater changes. Little boys aspire

To bigness, and it comes; nor turn again
Regretful eyes toward childhood. To grow strong.
And apt, and swift; to learn; to press along
Up life's first steeps and glory in each rise, —
That's boyhood, as it seems to older eyes.

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THIRTY YEARS AGO. 311

Time dwarfs the bulk of most material things.

The giants of our youth less monstrous seem^
Its wonders shrink when wider knowledge brings

The great world's standards to amend our dream.
But youth itself to backward glances looms
Up bigger than it is. The boy assumes,
To eyes that comprehend, the form and place
That gathering years may summon him to grace.

And what place is it he should strive to gain ?

What ends achieve, to what his powers apply ?
The same old simple precepts still obtain

That served for all men fit to pattern by.
Dear lads, we say, the greatest thing on earth
Is service: that's what justifies our birth.
Life can't be made worth living to a shirk.
You can't have even fun, unless you work.

Go make your bodies strong, your minds alert;

Train both to do for you the most they can.
Life's goal no runner reaches by a spurt;

Doing the daily stint's what makes the man.
And making men is Nature's chief concern;
For right men bring things right, each in its turn.
Strive then to help yourselves, and that much learned.
Help others; nowise else contentment's earned.

Oh, money's good to have, and fame is sweet,

And leisure has its use, and sport its joys.
Go win them, if you may, and speed your feet!

But this regard: that even splendid toys
Are only toys : the important thing's not play.
But work. Who shun the burden of the day
Shall miss as well the strength they gain who bear it;
The fellowship they only feel who share it.

or— ^

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SHE DREW HERSELF INTO A BALL, WITH HER HEAD DOWN . .

UKE NEEDLES ON A PIN-CUSHION/

AND HER QUILI^ STANDING OUT

At the aUghtett pro»prct of being attacked, the porcupine imnndlately turna tail to hit Kould-be amailant, for therein ia Ma
one and only method of defense, one that ia quite effective with moat of his en*miea. Hi a tail, which ia teonderfully quick to atrike
at anything within ita reach, ia hard and henry, and ia well aupplied with qiiilta. Another reawmfor not facing hia enemiea ia
that while a stroke from a atiek on the back will aeldom injure the "fretful porcupine," it reiiuirra hut a alight blow on the head
to either atun or kill him. Thus it ia that inatinet leada even the young animal to protect ita head and let other parta take oare of
(A«m«r/ve«.— Aktist's Noti.

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rOIXTERS FROM A PORCUPINE QUILL.

By William Davenport Hulbert.

With illustrations from photographs of wild porcupines taken expressly for this article by

A. Radclypfe Dugmore.

THE IIISTOIIY OF A MICHIGAN POIICUPIXE.

The elimbing abilityhotrn
by porcupine Heemaentirrlu
foreign to their somewhat
c/ttifury budd. A tree with
faMy rough btirk iaclimbgt
with the grtatent ease and
cOHBiderahlf ttperd. About a
minute in occupied in reach-
ing a height of sixty or eighty
feet.-AaTm*» Horn.

THE original owner of
this quill was born
ia a hollow hemlock log
that lay beside the
Glimmerglass, on a wild
April morning when the
north wind was whip-
ping the lake with snow,
and when the winter
seemed to have come
back for a season. The
Glimmerglass was
neither glimmering nor
glassy that morning,
but he and his mother
were snug and warm
in their wooden nest,
and they cared little
for the storm that was
raging outside.

It has been said that
porcupines lay eggs, the
hard, smooth shells of
which are furnished by
a kind and thoughtful
providence for the pur-
pose of protecting the

mothers from their prickly offspring until the
latter have fairly begun their independent
existence. Other people say that two babies
arrive at once, and that one of them is always
dead before it is bom. But when my Por-
cupine discovered America, he had neither a
shell on his back nor a dead twin brother by
his side. Neither was he prickly. He was
covered all over with soft, furry, dark-brown
hair. If you had searched carefully along
the middle of his back you might possibly have
found the points of the first quills, just peep-
ing through the skin ; but as yet the thick fur
hid them from sight and touch, unless you
knew just where and how to look for them.
He was a very large baby, larger even
than a new-bom bear cub, and he grew
rapidly, as porcupine babies always do.
Long hairs, tipped with yellowish-white, came
out through the dense fur ; and by and by
the quills began to show. His teeth were
lengthening, also, as his mother very well
knew ; and, between the sharp things in his
mouth and those on his back and sides, he
was fast becoming a very formidable nurs-
ling. Before he was two months old she
was forced to wean him, but by that time he

314

POINTERS FROM A PORCUPINE QUILL,

was quite able to travel down to the beach
and feast on the tender lily-pads and arrow-
head leaves that grew in the shallow water,
within easy reach from fallen and half-sub-
merged tree-trunks.

One June day, as he and his mother were
fishing for lily-pads, each of them out on the
end of a big log, a boy came down the steep
bank that rose almost from the water's edge.
He was a strange-looking boy, not the kind
that you would enjoy meeting. His clothes
were dirty and torn, and his face was in
much the same condition. His hat was gone,
and his hair had not seen a comb for weeks.
The mosquitoes and black flies and " no-see-
em's" had bitten him until his skin was
covered with blotches and his eye-lids were
so swollen that he could hardly see. But
worst of all was his look of hunger, of utter
famine and starvation. There was almost
nothing left of him but skin and bones, and
his clothing hung upon him as it would on a
framework of sticks.

His face brightened a very little when he
saw the old she-porcupine, and he picked up
a heavy stick and waded out beside her log.
She clacked her teeth together angrily as he
approached, but he paid no attention. Then
she drew herself into a ball, with her head
down and her nose covered by her fore-paws.
Across her back and down each side was a
belt or girdle of quills, the longest and
heaviest on her whole body, which could be
erected at will ; and now they stood as erect
as young spruce-trees. Their tips were dark
brown, but the rest of their length was
nearly white, and looking at her from behind
she seemed to have a pointed white rufile,
edged with black, tied around her body. But
the boy wasn't thinking about rufles. He
gave her such a thrust with his stick that
she had to grab at the log with both fore-
paws to keep from being shoved into the
water, and he lifted his weapon and brought
it down across her unprotected nose, once,
twice, three times. Then he picked her up
by one foot, very gingerly, and carried her
off ; and that was the last that our Porcu-
pine ever saw of his mother.

Perhaps we had best follow her up and
see what finally became of her. Half a mile
from the scene of the murder the boy came
upon a woman and a little girl. I shaVt try
to describe them, except to say that they
were even worse off than he. Perhaps you
read in the papers, some years ago, about
the woman and the two children who were
lost for several weeks in the woods of
northern Michigan.

" Fve killed a porky," said the boy.

He dropped his burden on the ground, and
they all stood around and looked at it. They
were hungry — oh, so hungry ! — but for some
reason they did not seem very eager to begin.
An old porcupine with her clothes on is not
the most attractive of feasts, and they had
no knife with which to skin the animal, no
salt to season the meat, no fire to cook it,
and no matches with which to start one.
Rubbing two sticks together is a very good
way of making a fire when you are in a book,
but it doesn't work very well in the Great
Tahquamenon Swamp. And yet, somehow
or other — I don't know how, and I don't
want to — they ate that porcupine, and it did
them good. When the searchers found
them, a week or two later, the woman and
boy were dead, but the girl was alive, and
for all I know she is living to this day.

Let us return to the Glimmerglass. The
young Porcupine ought to have mourned
deeply for his mother, but I grieve to say
that he did nothing of the kind. I doubt if
he was even very lonesome. He certainly
managed very well without her, and dis-
pensed with her much more easily than the
woman and the boy and girl could have.
He watched stolidly -while the boy killed her
and carried her off, and a little later he was
eating lily-pads again.

In truth, he had some very good reasons
for being satisfied with his prospects in life.
He knew pretty well how to take care of
himself, for that is a kind of knowledge
which comes early to young porcupines. His
quills would protect him from most of his
enemies, perhaps from all of them. And,
best of alt he need never suffer from a scar-
city of food. Of all the animals in the
woods, the porcupine is probably the safest
from starvation, for he can eat anything,
from the soft green leaves of the water-
plants to the bark and the small twigs of
the tallest hemlock. Summer and winter, his
storehouse is always full. The young lions
may lack, and suffer hunger, and seek their
meat from God ; but the young porky has
only to climb a tree and set his teeth at work.

And, by the way, the Porcupine's front
teeth were a great institution, and were
quite worth talking about. They were long
and yellow and sharp, and there were two in
the upper jaw and two in the lower, with a
wide gap on each side between them and the
molars. Like a beaver's, they were formed
of thin shells of hard enamel in front, backed
up by softer pulp behind ; and of^ course tJie
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softer parts wore away first and left the
enamel projecting in sharp, chisel-like edges
that could gnaw crumbs from a hickory axe-
handle.

The next few months were pleasant ones,
with plenty to eat, and nothing to do but
keep his jaws going. By and by the leaves
began to fall, and whenever the Porky walked
abroad they rustled around him like a silk
skirt going down the aisle of a church. A
little later the beechnuts came down from
the sky, and the Porky feasted on them till
his short legs could hardly hold his fat little
belly off the ground.

Then came the first light snow, and his
feet left tracks which bore a faint resem-
blance to a baby's — that is, if your imagina-
tion was sufficiently vigorous. It grew
deeper and deeper, and after a while he had
to fairly plow his way from the hollow log to
the trees where he took his meals. It was
hard work, for his clumsy legs were not
made for wading, and at every step he had

to lift and drag himself forward, and then
let his body drop while he shifted his feet.
A porcupine's feet will not go of themselves,
as other animals' do. They have to be picked
up one at a time and lifted forward as far
as they can reach — not very far, at the best,
for they are situated at the ends of very
short legs. It almost seems as if he could
run faster if he could drop them off and
leave them behind. But no matter how dif-
ficult the walk might be, there was always a
good square meal at the end of it, and he
pushed valiantly on till he reached his dinner-
table. Sometimes he stayed in the same tree
for several days at a time, quenching his
thirst with snow, and sleeping in a crotch.
He was not by any means the only porcu-
pine in the woods around the Glimmerglass,
although weeks sometimes passed without
his seeing any of his relatives. At other
times there were from one to half a dozen
porkies in the trees close by, and when they
happened to feel like it they would call back

^ V

•the bacon rind

. INTERESTED HIM MOST, ANtt HE CHEWED AND GNAWED AT IT WITH A RELISH

THAT AN EPICURE MIGHT HAVE ENVIED."

The porcupine^ love ofmlt, and in fact of anything that has been uaed fry human beings, leads him, often at cost of his life, to visit
camps, not only those that are deserted, but also those in use. Everything, even old clothes, is eaten with a relish. One animal even went so
far in his fearless explorations as to smell my man^s face cu he lay asleep on the ground. Luckily the feUow realizsd the situation and
refrainetl from striking the " hedgehog '• with his hand.—ARTwr*B NoT& C>

316

POINTERS FROM A PORCUPINE QUILL,

*0N THE TRUNK OF A TREE

HARDLY MORE THAN A FOOT FROM THE WATER.

and forth to each other in queer, harsh, and
often querulous voices.

One afternoon, when he and another por-
cupine were occupying trees next each other,
two land-lookers came along and camped for
the night between them. Earlier in the day
the men had crossed the trail of a pack of
wolves, and they talked of it as they cut
their firewood, and, with all the skill of tho
voyageurs of old, cooked their scanty supper,
and made their bed of balsam boughs. The
half-breed was much afraid that they would
have visitors before morning, but the white
man only laughed at the idea. The meal
was hardly finished when they lay down be-
tween the blankets, the white man to sleep,
and the half-breed to lie awake and listen,
listen, listen, for the coming of the wolves.
Beyond the camp-fire's little circle of ruddy
light the vague shadows were moving mys-
teriously, as if living things were prowling
about among the trees and only waiting for
him to fall asleep. Yet there was no wolf-
howl to be heard, nothing at all to break the
dead silence of the winter night, save per-
haps the causeless dropping of a dead branch,
or the splitting open of a tree-trunk torn
apart by the frost. And by and by, in spite
of himself, the half-breed's eyelids began to
droop.

But somebody else was awake — awake,
and tempted with a great temptation. One
of the porcupines — not ours, but the other
— had caught the fragrance of coffee and
frying bacon. Here were new odors, differ-

ent from anything that had ever before
tickled his nose, strange, but indescribably
delicious. He waited till the land-lookers
were snoring, and then he started down the
tree. Half-way to the ground he encoun-
tered the cloud of smoke that rose from the
camp-fire. Here was another new odor, but
with nothing pleasant about it. It stung
his nostrils and made his eyes smart, and he
scrambled up again as fast as he could go,
his claws and quills rattling on the bark.
The half-breed woke with a start. He had
heard something. He was sure he had ; the
wolves were coming, and he gave the white
man a punch in the ribs.

*' Wake up, wake up, m'shoor !" he whis-
pered excitedly. " The wolves are coming.
I can hear them on the snow."

The white man was up in a twinkling, but
by that time the porcupine had settled him-
self in a crotch out of reach of the smoke,
and the woods were silent again. The two
men listened with all their ears, but there
was not a sound to be heard.

" You must have been dreaming, Louis."

The half-breed insisted that he had really
heard the patter of the wolves* feet on the
snow-crust, but the timber-cruiser laughed
at him and lay down to sleep again. An
hour later the performance was repeated,
and this time the white man was angry.

"Don't you wake me up again, Louis.
You're so rattled you don't Imow what you're
doing."

Louis was silenced, but not coQvinced, and
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"he rapidlt made ms way to the beach."

Only wktn forced to it doea the porcupine take to the voter, and then only with an expreaaion of utter dtagtut. In the above phetO'
ffraph the character I at ic avimming poaition in correctly ahourn. The tail being very heavy, ainka, and cannot ofeourae be aeen in the pio-
ture. The tuft of hair on t^e back and the quillaare elevated Juat aa when the animai feara attack.— A&TlSt'B None.

now he did not let himself go to sleep. The
fire was dying down, and little by little the
smoke-cloud grew thinner and thinner until
it disappeared entirely. Then the half-breed
heard the same sound again, and his wide-
awake ears told him that it came from the
tree overhead, and not from across the snow.
He waited and watched, and presently a
dark brown animal, two or three feet in
length, and about the shape of an egg, came
scrambling cautiously down the trunk. The
visitor reached the ground in safety, and
searched among the tin plates and the knives
and forks until he found a piece of bacon
rind ; but he got just one taste of the tidbit
for which he was giving his life, and then
Louis hit him on the head with a club. Next
morning the land-lookers had porcupine soup
for breakfast, and they -afterward told me
that it was very good indeed.

Our Porky had seen it all. He waited
till the men had tramped away through the
woods, with their packs on their shoulders
and their snow-shoes on their feet, and then
he too came down from his tree on a tour
of investigation. His friend's skin lay on
the snow not very far away, but he paid no
attention to it. The bacon rind was what
interested him most, and he chewed and
gnawed at it with a relish that an epicure
might have envied. It was the first time in
al! his flrluttonous little life that he had ever

tasted salt or the flavor of wood-smoke ; and
neither lily-pads, nor beechnuts, nor berries,
nor anything else in all the woods, could
compare with it. Life was worth living, if
only for this one meal ; and, perhaps — I
don't say positively, but perhaps — he stowed
a dim memory of it away in some dark cor-
ner of his brain, and hoped that fortune
would some day be good to him and send
him another bacon rind.

The long, long winter dragged slowly on-
ward, the snow piled up higher and deeper,
and the cold grew sharper and keener.
Night after night the pitiless stars seemed
sucking every last bit of warmth out of the
old earth, and leaving it cold and dead for-
ever. And famine, too, came stalking
through the woods. The buck and the doe
had to live on hemlock twigs till they grew
thin and poor, and their flesh came to have
the flavor of resin. The partridges, huddled
together to keep warm during some driving
storm, were buried in a drift ; the hard, icy
crust closed over them, and they starved to
death. The l3mxes and the wild cats hunted
and hunted, and hunted, and found no prey ;
and it was well for the bears and the wood-
chucks that they could sleep all winter and
did not need food. Only the Porcupine had
plenty and to spare. Staryation had no
terrors for him.

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• HIGH UP IN THE TOP OP A TALL TREE.

During the month of May {perhajm ai90 at other ttme»), the poreuptnen are heard
at night and during the eariy houra of the momtng oaUing to each other from the trees.
The note i» a verypecultar hanh low tqueak or grunt, and from what I could obeerve
it tued not only aa a eaU to matea but to offapring. One old mother, I noticed, called
repeatedly to her partly grown youngater th€U had climbed into an adjoining tree.—
Aktut'sNotx.

YeC the hunger of another may seem dan-
ger for MB, as the Porcupine discovered. In
ordinary times most of the animals let him
severely alone. They knew better than to
attack such a living pin-cushion as he ; or,
if they did try it, one touch was generally
enough. But when you are ready to perish
with hunger you will take risks which at
other times you would not even think about,
and so it happened that one afternoon a
fierce-looking animal, with dark fur, bushy
tail, and pointed nose, sprang at the Porcu-
pine from behind a tree and tried to catch
him by the throat, where there were no quills;
nothing but soft, warm fur. The Porky
promptly made himself into a prickly ball,
very much as his mother had done seven or
eight months before, his head to the ground
and his fore-paws clasped over his face ; but
the sharp littlB nose dug into the snow and

wriggled its way nearer and
nearer to where the jugular
vein was waiting to be tapped.
The fisher must have under-
stood his business, for he had
chosen the one and only way
by which a porcupine may be
successfully attacked. Another
inch and he would have won
the game, but he was in such
a hurry that he grew careless
and reckless, and did not no-
tice that he had wheeled part
way round, and that his hind
quarters were . alongside the
Porcupine's.

Now, sluggish and slow
though a porcupine may be,
there is one of his members
that is as quick as a steel trap,
and that is his tail. Something
hit the fisher a whack on his
flank, and he gave a cry of pain
and fury, and jumped back with
half a dozen spears sticking in
his flesh. He must have been
so badly rattled that he did not
know what he was doing, for
before he knew it his face also
had come within range of that
terrible tail and its quick,
vicious jerks. That ended the
battle, and he fled away across
the snow, almost mad with the
agony in his nose, his eyes, his
forehead, and his left flank.

The bay lynx fared still
worse, for he did not know the
very first thing about the
proper way to hunt porcupines. He ought
not to have tried it at all, but he was liter-
ally starving, and the temptation was too
much for him. Here was something alive,
something that had warm red blood in its veins
and a good thick layer of flesh over its bones,
and that was too slow to get away from him;
and so he sailed right in, tooth and claw, re-
gardless of the consequences. The next
second he had forgot all about the Porcu-
pine, his own hunger, and everthing else but
the terrible pain in his face and his f orepaws.
He made the woods fairly ring with his
howls, and he jumped up and down on the
snow-crust, rubbing his head with his paws,
and driving the little barbed spears deeper
and deeper into the flesh. And then, all of
a sudden, he ceased his leaping and bounding
and howling, and dropped on the snow in a
limp, lifeless heap, dead as last summer's

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lily-pads. One of the quills had
driven straight through his left
eye and into his brain. Was it
any wonder if the Porcupine
came to think himself invulner-
able ?

Even a northern Michigan
winter has its ending, and at
last there came an evening
when all the porcupines in the
woods around the Glimmerglass
were calling to each other, from
one tree to another. They
couldn't help it. There was
something in the air that stirred
even their sluggish blood to a
vague restlessness and uneasi-
ness, and our own particular
Porky sat up in the top of a
tall hemlock and sang. Not
like Jenny Lind, nor yet like a
thrush or a bluebird; but his
harsh voice went squealing up
and down the scale in a way
that was all his own, without
time or rhythm or melody, in
the wildest, strangest music
that ever woke the silent
woods. I don't believe that he
himself quite knew what he
meant or why he did it. Cer-
tainly no one else could have
told, unless it was some wander-
ing Indian or trapper who may
have heard the queer voices
and prophesied that a thaw
was coming.

The thaw arrived next day,
and it proved to be the begin-
ning of spring. The summer followed as fast
as it could, and again the lily-pads were green
and succulent in the shallow water along the
edge of the Glimmerglass, and again the
Porcupine wandered down to the beach to
feed upon them,' discarding for a time his
winter diet of bark and twigs. Why should
one live on rye bread when one can have
cake and ice-cream ?

And there among the bulrushes, one bright
June morning, he had a fight with one of his
own kind. Just as he was approaching his
favorite log, two other porcupines appeared,
coming from different directions, one a male
and the other a female. They all scrambled
out upon the log, one after another, but it
soon became evident that three was a crowd.
Our Porky and the other bachelor could not
agree at all. They both wanted the same
place and the same lily-pads, and in a little

ASLEEP.

All the porcupine* otnterved during my trip in the woqda slept thus on the
branch of a tree, u^th their weight resting ou the hind feet, urhile the fore fe^ clasped
a higher part of the brancJi. One I noticed sat on a frrancA u?hile his fore feet held on
to a branch of an adjoining tree. The animal remained in this position during the
entire morning, sti^tching and contracting as the two trees swayed back and forth in
the tr/nd.— Artist's Nots.

while they were pushing and shoving and
growling and snarling with all their might;
each doing his best to drive the other off
the log and into the water. They did not
bite — perhaps they had agreed that teeth
like theirs were too cruel to be used in civ-
ilized warfare — but they struggled and chat-
tered and swore at each other, and made all
sorts of queer noises while they fought their
funny little battle. It did not last long.
Our Porky was the stronger, and his rival
was driven backward little by little till he
lost his hold completely and slipped into the
lake. He came to the surface at once, and
quickly swam to the shore, where he chat-
tered angrily for a few minutes, and then,
like the sensible bachelor that he was, wan-
dered off up the beach in search of other
worlds more easily conquered. There was
peace on our Pork/s log, and the lily-pads

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POINTERS FROM A PORCUPINE QUILL.

PORKY

DETERMINED TO GO APT AND GET ACQUAINTED.

Any one wKo has tried to handle porcupine* has noticed their remarkable tenacity ofpurpnme. It nerm* almont Impoasible to change
their eourwe. If thwarted, they will lower their head and push on ttlindly. The more you obetruct their passage the more determined are
they on it.-Ainm'» Kotk.

that grew beside it had never been as fresh
and juicy as they were that morning.

Two months later, on a hot August after-
noon, I was paddling along the edge of the
Glimmerglass in company with a friend of
mine, each of us in a small dug-out canoe,
when we found the Porky asleep in the
sunshine. He was lying on the nearly hor-
izontal trunk of a tree whose roots had
been undermined by the waves till it leaned
far out over the lake, hardly more than a foot
from the water.

My friend, by the way, is the foreman of
a lumber camp. He has served in the Brit-
ish army, has hunted whales off the coast of
Greenland, married a wife in Grand Rapids,
and run a street-car in Chicago ; and now
he is snaking logs out of the Michigan
woods. He is quite a chunk of a man, tall
and decidedly well set up, and it would take
a pretty good prize-fighter to whip him ;
but one must remember that a porcupine at
close quarters is worse than a trained pugil-
ist.

" Look at that Porky," he called to me.
"Fm going to run my canoe against the
tree and knock him off into the water. Just
you watch and you'll see some fun."

I was somewhat uncertain whether the
joke would ultimately be on the Porcupine
or the man, but it was pretty sure to be a
joke worth seeing, one way or the other,
so I laid my paddle down and awaited devel-
opments. Bang ! went the nose of the
dug-out against the tree, and the Porcupine

dropped, but not into the water. He landed
in the bow of the canoe, and the horrified
look on my friend's face was a delight to
see. The Porky was wide awake by this
time, for I could hear his teeth clacking
as he advanced to the attack.

'* Great Scott ! He's coming straight at
me!"

The Porcupine was certainly game. I
saw the paddle rise in the air and come down
with a tremendous whack, but it seemed to
have little effect. The animal's coat of
quills and bristles and fur was so thick that
a blow on the back did not trouble him much.
If my friend could have struck him across
the nose it would have ended the matter
then and there, but the canoe was too nar-
row and its sides too high for a crosswise
stroke. He tried thrusting, but that was
no better. When a good-sized porcupine
has really made up his mind to go some-
where, it takes more than a punch with the
end of a stick to stop him ; and this porky
had fully determined to go aft and get ac-
quainted with the foreman. My friend
couldn't even kick, for he was kneeling on
the bottom of the dug-out, and his feet were
behind him. If he tried to stand up he
would probably capsize.

"Say, Hulbert, what am I going to do ?"

I didn't give him any advice, for my sym-
pathies were largely with the Porcupine.
Besides, I hadn't any advice t6 give, and I
am not sure that I could have spoken if I
had tried. Just then the canoe driftecj

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around so that I could look into it ; and I
beheld the Porcupine bearing down on my
helpless friend like Bimam Wood on its way
to Dunsinane, his ruf9e of quills erect, fire
in his little black eyes, and a thirst for ven-
geance in his whole aspect. My friend made
one or two final and ineffectual jabs at him,
and then gave up.

" Its no use," he called, " TU have to tip
over" ; and the next second the canoe was
upside down and both belligerents were in
the water. The Porcupine floated high — I
suppose his hollow quills helped to keep him
up — and he proved a much better swimmer
than I had expected, for he quickly made his
way to the beach and disappeared in the
woods, still chattering disrespectfully. My
friend waded ashore, righted his canoe, and
we resumed our journey. I don't think TU
tell you what he said. He got over it after
a while, and in the end he probably enjoyed
his joke more than if it had turned out as
he had intended.

The summer followed the winter into the
past, and the Moon of Falling Leaves came
round again. The Porcupine was not alone.
Another Porky was with him, and the two
seemed very good friends. In fact, his
companion was the same lady porcupine who
had stood by while he fought the battle of
the log and the lily-pads, though I do not
suppose that they had been keeping company
all those months, and I am by no means
certain that they remembered that eventful
morning. Let us hope that they did, for the
sake of the story. Who knows how much
or how little of love was stirring the slow
currents of their sluggish natures — of the
love that keeps the buck beside the doe in
the hour of danger, and that binds the dove
or the eagle to his mate ? Not much, per-
haps ; yet they climbed the same tree, ate
from the same branch, and drank at the
same spring ; and the next April there was
another arrival in the old hollow log —
twins, this time, and both of them alive.

But the Porcupine never saw his children,
for a wandering fit seized him, and he left
the Glimmerglass before they were bom.
Two or three miles away was a little clear-
ing where a mossback lived ; and one night,
as that mossback lay half asleep, he heard
something that said ^^ ehew^hew^^hew-^hew-
chevhchm-<hew^^ about as fast as a locomo-
tive that has its train fairly moving and is
just beginning to get up speed. Suddenly the
sound stopped short, and after a pause of a
few seconds it began again at exactly the

same speed, stopped again, and began a third
time. And so it kept on, chewing and paus-
ing, chewing and pausing, with always just
so many dhews to the second, and just so
many seconds to each rest. The mossback
was wide awake now, and he muttered some-
thing about " another of those pesky porcu-
pines." He had killed the last one that had
come around the house, and had wanted his
wife to cook it for dinner and see how it
tasted, but she wouldn't. She said that the
very sight of it was enough for her, and more
than enough ; and that it was all she could do
to eat pork and potatoes after looking at it.

He turned over and tried to go to sleep
again, but without success. That steady
** chevHiheW'Chew^' was enough to keep a
woodchuck awake, and at last he got up
and went to the door. The moonlight on
the snow was almost as bright as day, and
there was the Porcupine, leaning against the
side of the bam and busily rasping the wood
from around the head of a rusty nail. The
mossback threw a stick of stove-wood at
him, and he lumbered clumsily away across
the snow. Twenty minutes later he was
back again, and this time he marched
straight into the open shed at the back of
the house and began operations on a wash-
tub, whose mingl^ flavor of soap and hu-
manity was quite irresistible. Again the
mossback appeared in the doorway, shiver-
ing a little in his night-shirt.

The Porcupine was at the foot of the
steps. He had stopped chewing when the
door opened, and now he lifted his forepaws
and sat half-erect^ his yellow teeth showing
between his parted lips, and his little eyes
staring at the lamp which the mossback car-
ried. The quills slanted backward from all
around his diminutive face, and even from
between his eyes — short at first, but grow-
ing longer toward his shoulders and back.
Long whitish bristles mingled with them,
and he made the mossback think of a little
old, old man, with hair that was grizzly
gray, and a face that wore a look half stupid
and half sad and wistful. He was not yet
two years of age, but I believe a porcupine
is bom old. Some of the Indians say that
he is ashamed of his homeliness, and that
that is the reason why, by day, he walks so
slowly, with hanging head and downcast
eyes; but at night, they say, when the
friendW darkness hides his ugliness, he lifts
his head and runs like a dog.

In spite of the hour and the cheering in-
fluence of the washtub, our Porky seemed
even more low-spirited than usual. Perhape

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POINTERS FROM A PORCUPINE QUILL,

the lamp-light had suddenly reminded him
of his personal appearance. At any rate,
he looked so lonesome and forlorn that the
mossback felt a little thrill of pity for him,
and decided not to kill him, after all, but to
drive him away again. He started down the
steps with his lamp in one hand and a stick
of wood in the other, and then — he never
knew quite how it happened — but in some
way or other he stumbled and fell. Never
in all his life, not even when his wildest
nightmare came and sat upon him in the
wee small hours, had he ever come quite as
near screaming out in his terror as he did at
that moment. He thought he was going to
sit down on the Porcupine. Fortunately for
both of them, and especially for the man,
he missed him by barely half an inch, and
the Porky scuttled away as fast as his legs
could carry him, thoroughly frightened for
once.

Yet in spite of his scare he hung around
the edges of the clearing for several months,
and enjoyed many a meal such as seldom
falls to the lot of the average porky. Once
he found a bacon rind among some scraps
that the mossback's wife had thrown away.
Later on he invaded the sugar-bush by night,
gnawing deep notches in the edges of the
sap-buckets and barrels, and helping himself
to the syrup in the big boiling-pan. Life
was not all feasting, however. There was
a dog who attacked him two or three times,
but who finally learned to keep away and
mind his own business. Once, when he had
ventured a little too close to the house, and
was making an unusual racket with his teeth,
the mossback came to the door and fired a
shot-gun at him, cutting off several of his
quills. And still another night, late in the
spring, when he was prowling around the
bam, a bull calf came and smelled him. Next
morning the mossback and his boys threw
that calf down on the ground and tied his
feet to a stump, and then three of them sat
on him while the fourth pulled the quills
from his nose with a pair of pincers. You
should have heard him grunt.

Then came the greatest adventure of all.
A railway crossed one edge of the clearing,
and beside it was a small platform on which
supplies for the lumbermen were sometimes
unloaded from the trains. Brine and mo-
lasses and various other delectable things
had leaked out upon the platform from bar-
rels and kegs and boxes, and the Porcupine
discovered that its planks were very nicely
seasoned and flavored. He visited it once

too often, for one summer evening, as be
was gnawing away at the site of an ancient
puddle of molasses, the accommodation train
rolled in and came to a halt. He tried to
hide behind a stump, but the trainmen caught
sight of him, and before he knew it they had
shoved him into an empty box and hoisted
him into the baggage-car. They turned
him loose among the passengers on the sta-
tion platform at Sault Ste. Marie, and his
arrival created a sensation.

When the first excitement had subsided,
all the ghrls in the crowd declared that they
wanted porcupine quills for souvenirs, and
all the young men set to work to procure
them, hoping to distinguish themselves by
proving their superiority in strength and
courage over this poor, little, twenty-pound
beast just out of the woods. Most of them
succeeded in getting some quills, and also
in acquiring some painful experience, espe-
cially the one who attempted to lift the Por-
cupine by the tail, and who learned that that
interesting member is the very hottest and
liveliest portion of the animal's anatomy.
They finally discovered that the proper way
to get quills from a live porcupine is to hit
him with a piece of board. The sharp points
penetrate the wood and stick there, the
other ends come loose from his skin, and
there you have them. The Porky lost most
of his armor that day, and it was a good
thing for him that departed quills, like
clipped hair, will renew themselves in the
course of time.

One of the brakemen carried him home,
and he spent the next few months in the
enjoyment of city life. Whether he found
much pleasure in it is perhaps a question,
but I am rather inclined to think that he
did. He had plenty to eat, and he learned
that apples are very good indeed, and that
the best way to partake of them is to sit up
on your haunches and hold them between
your forepaws. He also learned that men
are not always to be regarded as enemies,
for his owner and his owner's children were
good to him and soon won his confidence.
But, after all, the city was not home, and
the woods were, and so he employed some
of his spare time in gnawing a hole through
the wall in a dark corner of the shed where
he was confined, and one night he scrambled
out and hid himself in an empty barn. A
day or two later he was in the forest again.

The remaining years of his life were spent
on the bank of St. Mary's River, and for the
most part they were years of quietness and
contentment. He was far from his early

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323

home ; but the bark of a birch or a maple or
a hemlock is much the same on St. Mary's
as by the Glimmerglass. He grew bigger
and fatter as time went on, and some weeks
before he died he must have weighed thirty
or forty pounds.

Once in a while there was a little dash of
excitement to keep life from becoming too
monotonous— if too much monotony is possi-
ble in a porcupine's existence. One night
he scrambled up the steps of a little sum-
mer cottage close to the edge of the river;
and, finding the door unlatched, he pushed
it open and walked in. A girl in the next
room heard him tramping around, and she
got up and struck a light. It so happened
tiiat the Porcupine himself was the only gen-
tleman in the house, and his reception was
a remarkable one, to say the least, for his
hostesses stood around on chairs and the
tops of washstands, and bombarded him with
curling-irons, poked feebly with bed-slats,
and shrieked with laughter till the farmers
over on the Canadian shore turned in their
beds and wondered what could be happen-
ing on Uncle Sam's side of the river. The
worst of it was that in his travels around the
room he had come up behind the door and
pushed it shut ; and it was some time before
even the red-haired girl could muster up
sufficient courage to come down from her
perch and open it again.

At another time an Indian robbed him of
the longest and best of his quills — nearly
five inches in length, some of them — and
carried them off to be used in making orna-
ments for birch-bark baskets. And on still
another occasion he narrowly escaped death
at the hands of an irate canoeman, in the
side of whose Rob Roy he had gnawed a
great hole.

The end came at last, and it was the sad-
dest, hardest, strangest fate that can ever
come to a wild creature of the woods. He
— ^who had never known hunger in all his
life, who was almost the only animal in the
forest who had never looked famine in the
eye, whose table was spread with good things
from January to December, and whose store-
house was full from Lake Huron to the Pic-
tured Rocks — he, of all others, was con-
demned to die of starvation in the midst of
plenty. The Ancient Mariner, with water
all around and not a drop to drink, was no
worse off than our Porcupine; and the
Mariner finally escaped, but the Porky
didn't.

One of the summer tourists who wandered

up into the north woods that year had car-
ried with him a little rifle, more of a toy
than a weapon, a thing that a sportsman
would hardly have condescended to laugh at.
And one afternoon, by ill luck, he caught
sight of the Porcupine high up in the top of
a tall tree. It was his first chance at a gen-
uine wild beast, and he fired away all his
cartridges as fast as he could load them into
his gun. He thought that every shot missed,
and he was much ashamed of his marksman-
ship, but — he was mistaken. The very last
bullet broke one of the Porcupine's lower
front teeth, and oh, how it hurt! It jarred
him to the very end of his tail, his head felt
as if it was being smashed to bits, and for
a minute or two the strength all went out
of him, and if he had not been lying in a
safe, comfortable crotch he would have
fallen to the ground.

The pain and the shock passed away &.f ter
a while, but when supper-time came — and
it was almost always supper-time with the
Porcupine — his left lower incisor was miss-
ing. The right one was uninjured, however,
and for a little while he got on very well,
merely having to spend a little more time
than usual over his meals. But that was
only the beginning of trouble. The stump
of the broken tooth was still there and still
growing, and it was soon as long as ever,
but in the meantime its fellow in the upper
jaw had grown beyond its normal length,
and the two did not meet properly. Instead
of growing together edge to edge, as they
should have done, each wearing the other
down and keeping its growth in check, each
one now pushed the other aside, and still
they kept on growing, growing, growing.
Worst of all, in a short time they had begun
to crowd his jaws apart so that he could
hardly use his right-hand teeth, and they,
too, were soon out of shape. The evil days
had come, and the sound of the grinding
was low. Little by little his mouth was
forced open wider and wider, and the food
that passed his lips grew less and less. His
teeth, that had all his life been his best
tools and most faithful servants, had turned
against him in his old age, and were killing
him by inches. Let us not linger over those
days.

He was spared the very last and worst
pangs ; for that, at least, we may be thank-
ful. On the last day of his life he sat under
a beech-tree, weak and weary and faint.
He could not remember when he had eaten.
His coat of hair and quills was as thick and
bushy as ever, and outwardly he had hardly

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GRIT OF WOMEN.

changed at all, but under his skin there was
little left but bones. And as he sat there
and wished that he was dead — if such a wish
can ever come to a wild animal — the Angel
of Mercy came by in the shape of a man
with a revolver in his pistol-pocket. And
the man liked to kill things.

" A porky ! " he said. " Guess Til shoot
him, just for fun."

The Porcupine saw him coming, and knew
the danger; and for a moment the old love
of life came back as strong as ever, and he

gathered his feeble strength for one last
effort, and started up the tree. He was
perhaps six feet from the ground when the
first report came.

** Bang! bang! bang! bang!'* four shots,
as fast as a self-cocking revolver could pour
the lead into his body. The Porky stopped
climbing. For an instant he hung motion-
less on the side of the tree, and then his
forepaws let go and he swayed backward
and fell to the ground. And that was the
end of the Porcupine.

GRIT OF WOMEN.

By Jack London.

A WOLFISH head, wistful-eyed and frost-
rimed, thrust aside the tent-flaps.

"Hi! Chook! Si wash! Chook, you limb
of Satan ! " chorused the protesting inmates.

Bettles rapped the dog sharply with a tin
plate, and it withdrew hastily. Louis Savoy
ref astened the flaps, kicked a frying-pan over
against the bottom, and warmed his hands.
It was very cold without. Forty-eight hours
gone, the spirit thermometer had burst at
sixty-eight below, and since that time it had
grown steadily and bitterly colder. There
was no telling when the snap would end.
And it is poor policy, unless the gods will it,
to venture far from a stove at such times,
or to increase the quantity of cold atmos-
phere one must breathe. Men sometimes
do it, and sometimes they chill their lungs.
This leads up to a dry, hacking cough, no-
ticeably irritable when bacon is being fried.
After that, somewhere along in the spring
or summer, a hole is burned in the frozen
muck. Into this a man's carcass is dumped,
covered over with moss, and left with the
assurance that it will rise on the crack of
Doom, wholly and frigidly intact. For those
of little faith, skeptical of material integra-
tion on that fateful day, no fitter country
than the Klondike can be recommended to
die in. But it is not to be inferred from
this that it is a fit country for living pur-
poses.

It was very cold without, but it was not
over-warm within. The only article which
might be designated furniture was the stove,
and for this the men were frank in display-
ing their preference. Upon half of the floor
pine boughs had been cast; above this were
spread the sleeping-furs, beneath lay the

winter's snowfall. The remainder of the
floor was moccasin-packed snow, littered
with pots and pans and the general impedi-
menta of an Arctic camp. The stove was
red and roaring hot, but only a bare three
feet away lay a block of ice, as sharp-edged
and dry as when first quarried from the creek
bottom. The pressure of the outside cold
forced the inner heat upward. Just above
the stove, where the pipe penetrated the
roof, was a tiny circle of dry canvas ; next,
with the pipe always as center, a circle of
steaming canvas ; next a damp and moisture-
exuding ring; and finally, the rest of the
tent, sidewalls and top, coated with a half-
inch of dry, white, crystal-encrusted frost.

''Oh! Oh ! OH ! " A young fellow,
lying asleep in the furs, bearded and wan
and weary, raised a moan of pain, and with-
out waking, increased the pitch and inten-
sity of his anguish. His body Jialf-lifted
from the blankets, and quivered and shrank
spasmodically, as though drawing awaf from
a bed of nettles.

* • Roirm over ! ' ' ordered Bettles. ' ' He's
crampin'."

And thereat, with pitiless altruism, he
was pitched upon and rolled and thumped
and pounded by half a dozen willing com-
rades.

** D— n the trail," he muttered softly, as
he threw off the robes and sat up. "I've
run across country, played quarter three
seasons hand-running, and hardened myself
in all manner of ways; and then I pilgrim it
into this God-forsaken land and find myself
an effeminate Athenian without the simplest
rudiments of manhood!" He hunched up
to the fire and rolled a cigarette. " Oh,

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GRIT OF WOMEN.

325

Vm not whining. I can take my medicine
all right, all right; but I'm just decently
ashamed of myself, that's all. Here I am,
on top of a dirty thirty miles, as knocked up
and stiff and sore as a pink-tea degenerate
after a five-mile walk on a country turnpike.
Bah ! It makes me sick ! Got a match ? ' '

'* Don't git the tantrums, youngster."
Bettles passed over the required fire-stick
and waxed patriarchal. '* Ye've gotter 'low
some for the breakin'-in. Sufferin' cracky!
don't I recollect the first time I hit the trail !
Stiff ? I've seen the time it'd take me ten
minutes to git my mouth from the water-
hole an' come to my feet — every jint crackin'
an' kickin' fit to kill. Cramp ? In sech
knots it'd take the camp half a day to un-
tangle me. You're all right, for a cub, an'
ye've the true sperrit. Come this day year,
you'll walk all us old bucks into the ground
any time. An' best in your favor, you hain't
got that streak of fat in your make-up which
has sent many a husky man to the bosom of
Abraham afore his right and proper time."

"Streak of fat?"

** Yep. Comes along of bulk. 'Tain't
the big men as is the best when it comes to
the trail."

** Never heard of it."

'* Never heered of it, eh ? Well, it's a
dead straight, open-an'-shut fact, an' no
gittin' round. Bulk's all well enough for a
mighty big effort, but 'thout stayin' powers
it ain't worth a continental whoop ; an' stayin'
powers an' bulk ain't runnin' mates. Takes
the small, wiry fellows when it comes to git-
tin' right down an' hangin' on like a lean-
jowled dog to a bone. Why, hell's fire, the
big men they ain't in it! "

** By gar ! " broke in Louis Savoy, ** dat
is no, vot you call, josh ! I know one mans,
so vaire beeg like ze buffalo, but no fat 'tall.
Wit him, on ze Sulphur Creek stampede, go
one small mans, Lon McFane. You know
dat Lon McFane, dat leetle Irisher wit ze
red hair and ze grin. An' dey walk an' walk
an' walk, all ze day long an' ze night long.
And beeg mans, him become vaire tired, an'
lay down mooch in ze snow. And leetle
mans keek beeg mans, an' him cry like, vot
you call — ah! vot you call ze kid. And
leetle mans keek an' keek an' keek, an'
bime by, long time, long way, keek beeg
mans into my cabin. Tree days 'fore him
crawl out my blankets. Nevaire I see beeg
squaw like him. No nevaire. Him haf
vot you call ze streak of fat. You bet."

'* But there was Axel Gunderson," Prince
spoke up. The great Scandinavian, with the

tragic events which shadowed his passing,
had made a deep mark on the mining engi-
neer. ** He lies up there, somewhere."
He swept his hand in the vague direction of
the mysterious east.

" Biggest man that ever turned his heels
to Salt Water or run a moose down with
sheer grit," supplemented Bettles; ''but
he's the prove-the-rule exception. Look at
his woman, Unga — tip the scales at a hun-
dred an' ten, clean meat an' nary ounce to
spare. She'd bank grit 'gainst his for all
there was in him, an' see him, an' go him
better if it was possible. Nothing over the
earth, or in it, or under it, she wouldn't 'a'
done."

** But she loved him," objected the engi-
neer.

'"Tain't that. It "

" Look you, brothers," broke in Sitka
Charley from his seat on the grub-box.
" Ye have spoken of the streak of fat that
runs in big men's muscles, of the grit of
women and the love, and ye have spoken
fair; but I have in mind things which hap-
pened when the land was young and the fires
of men apart as the stars. It was then I
had concern with a big man, and a streak of
fat, and a woman. And the woman was
small ; but her heart was greater than the
beef-heart of the man, and she had grit.
And we traveled a weary trail, even to the
Salt Water, and the cold was bitter, the
snow deep, the hunger great. And the
woman's love was a mighty love — no more
can man say than this."

He paused, and with the hatchet broke
pieces of ice from the the large chunk be-
side him. These he threw into the gold pan
on the stove, where the drinking-water
thawed. The men drew up closer, and he
of the cramps sought greater comfort vainly
for his stiffened body.

** Brothers, my blood is red with Siwash,
but my heart is white. To the faults of my
fathers I owe the one, to the virtues of my
friends the other. A great truth came to
me when I was yet a boy. I learned that
to your kind and you was given the earth ;
that the Siwash could not withstand you,
and like the caribou and the bear, must per-
ish in the cold. So I came into the warm
and sat among you, by your fires, and be-
hold, I became one of you. I have seen
much in my time. I have known strange
things, and bucked big, on big trails, with
men of many breeds. And because of these
things, I measure deeds after your manner,
and judge men, and think thoughts. Where-

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OBIT OF WOMENi

fore, when I speak harshly of one of your own
kind, I know you will not take it amiss; and
when I speak high of one of my father's
people, yon will not take it upon you to say,
* Sitka Charley is Siwash, and there is a
crooked light in his eyes and small honor to
his tongue.' Is it not so ? "

Deep down in throat, the circle vouchsafed
its assent.

'' The woman was Passuk. I got her in
fair trade from her people, who were of the
Coast and whose Chilcat totem stood at the
head of a salt arm of the sea. My heart
did not go out to the woman, nor did I take
stock of her looks. For she scarce took
her eyes from the ground, and she was timid
and afraid, as girls will be when cast into
a stranger's arms whom they have never
seen before. As I say, there was no place
in my heart for her to creep, for I had a
great journey in mind, and stood in need of
one to feed my dogs and to lift a paddle
with me through the long river days. One
blanket would cover the twain ; so I chose
Passuk.

'' Have I not said I was a servant to the
Government ? If not, it is well that ye
know. So I was taken on a warship, sleds
and dogs and evaporated foods, and with me
came Passuk. And we went north, to the
winter ice-rim of Bering Sea, where we were
landed — myself, and Passuk, and the dogs.
I was also given moneys of the Government,
for I was its servant, and charts of lands
which the eyes of man had never dwelt upon,
and messages. These messages were sealed,
and protected shrewdly from the weather,
and I was to deliver them to the whale-ships
of the Arctic, ice-bound by the great Mac-
kenzie. Never was there so great a river,
forgetting only our own Yukon, the Mother
of all Rivers.

" All of which is neither here nor there,
for my story deals not with the whale-ships,
nor the berg-bound winter I spent by the
Mackenzie. Afterward, in the spring, when
the days lengthened and there was a crust
to the snow, we came south, Passuk and I,
to the Country of the Yukon. A weary
journey, but the sun pointed out the way of
our feet. It was a naked land, then, as I
have said, and we worked up the current,
with pole and paddle, till we came to Forty
Mile. Good it was to see white faces once
again, so we put into the bank. And that
winter was a hard winter. The darkness
and the cold drew down upon us, and with
them the famine. To each man the agent
of the Company gave forty pounds of flour

and twenty of bacon. There were no beaim.
And the dogs howled always, and there were
flat bellies and deep-lined faces, and strong:
men became weak, and weak men died. There
was also much scurvy.

'' Then came we together in the store
one night, and the empty shelves made us
feel our own emptiness the more. We talked
low, by the light of the fire, for the candles
had been set aside for those who might yet
gasp in the spring. Discussion was held,
and it was said that a man must go forth to
the Salt Water and tell to the world oar
misery. At this all eyes turned to me, for
it was understood that I was a great trav-
eler. ' It is 700 miles,' said I, ' to Haines
Mission by the sea, and every inch of it
snowshoe work. Give me the pick of your
dogs and the best of your grub, and I will
go. And with me shall go Passuk.'

** To this they were agreed. But there
arose one, Long Jeff, a Yankee-man, big-
boned and big-muscled. Also his talk was
big. He, too, was a mighty traveler, he
said, bom to the snowshoe and bred up on
buffalo milk. He would go with me, in case
I fell by the trail, that he might carry the
word on to the Mission. I was young, and
I knew not Yankee-men. How was I to
know that big talk betokened the streak
of fat, or that Yankee-men who did great
things kept their teeth together ? So we
took the pick of the dogs and the best of
the grub, and struck the trail, we three —
Passuk, Long Jeff, and I.

** Well, ye have broken virgin snow, la-
bored at the gee-pole, and are not unused to
the packed river-jams ; so I will talk little
of the toil, save that on some days we made
ten miles, and on others thirty, but more
often ten. And the best of the grub was
not good, while we went on stint from the
start. Likewise the pick of the dogs was
poor, and we were hard put to keep them on
their legs. At the White River our three
sleds became two sleds, and we had only
come 200 miles. But we lost nothing; the
dogs that left the traces went into the bel-
lies of those that remained.

** Not a greeting, not a curl of smoke,
till we made Pelly. Here I had counted on
grub; and here I had counted on leaving
Long Jeff, who was whining and trail-sore.
But uhe factor's lungs were wheezing, his
eyes briglit, his cache nigh empty ; and he
showed us the empty cache of the mission^
ary, also his grave with the rocks piled high
to keep off the dogs. There was a bunch of
Indians there, but babies and old men there

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327

were none, and it was clear that few would
Bee the spring.

"So we palled on, light-stomached and
heavy-hearted, with half a thousand miles
of snow and silence between us and Haines
Mission by the sea. The darkness was at
its worst, and at mid-day the sun could not
clear the sky-line to the south. But the ice-
jams were smaller, the going better; so I
pushed the dogs hard and traveled late and
early. As I said at Forty Mile, every inch
of it was snowshoe work. And the shoes
made great sores on our feet, which cracked
and scabbed but would not heal. And every
day these sores grew more grievous, till in
the morning, when we girded on the shoes.
Long Jeff cried like a child. I put him at
the fore of the light sled to break trail, but
he slipped off the shoes for comfort. Be-
cause of this the trail was not packed, his
moccasins made great holes, and into these
holes the dogs wallowed. The bones of the
dogs were ready to break through their
hides, and this was not good for them. So
I spoke hard words to the man, and he prom-
ised, and broke his word. Then I beat him
with the dog-whip, and after that the dogs
wallowed no more. He was a child, what
of the pain and the streak of fat.

** But Passuk. While the man lay by the
fire and wept, she cooked, and in the morn-
ing helped lash the sleds, and in the evening
to unlash them. And she saved the dogs.
Ever was she to the fore, lifting the webl^d
shoes and making the way easy. Passuk —
how shall I say ? — I took it for granted that
she should do these things, and thought no
more about it. For my mind was busy with
other matters, and besides, I was young in
years and knew little of woman. It was
only on looking back that I came to under-
stand.

" And the man became worthless. The
dogs had little strength in them, but he
stole rides on the sled when he lagged be-
hind. Passuk said she would take the one
sled, so the man had nothing to do. In the
morning I gave him his fair share of grub
and started him on the trail alone. Then
the woman and I broke camp, packed the
sleds, and harnessed the dogs. By mid-day,
when the sun mocked us, we would overtake
the man, with the tears frozen on his cheeks,
and pass him. In the night we made camp,
set aside his fair share of grub, and spread
his furs. Also we made a big fire, that he
might see. And hours afterward he would
come limping in, and eat his grub with
moans and groans, and sleep. He was not

sick, this man. He was only traiI*sore and
tired, and weak with hunger. But Passuk
and I were trail-sore and tired, and weak
with hunger ; and we did all the work and
he did none. But he had the streak of fat
of which our brother Bottles has spoken.
Further, we gave the man always his fair
share of grub.

'* Then one day we met two ghosts jour-
neying through the Silence. They were a
man and a boy, and they were white. The
ice had opened on Lake Le Barge, and
through it had gone their main outfit. One
blanket each carried about his shoulders.
At night they built a fire and crouched over
it till morning. They had a little flour.
This they stirped in warm water and drank.
The man showed me eight cups of flour — all
they had, and Pelly, stricken with famine,
200 miles away. They said, also, that there
was an Indian behind ; that they had whacked
fair, but that he could not keep up. I did
not believe they had whacked fair, else would
the Indian have kept up. But I could give
them no grub. They strove to steal a dog
— the fattest, which was very thin— but I
shoved my pistol in their faces and told them
begone. And they went away, like drunken
men, through the Silence toward Pelly.

" I had three dogs now, and one sled, and
the dogs were only bones and hair. When
there is little wood, the fire bums low and
the cabin grows cold. So with us. With
little grub the frost bites sharp, and our
faces were black and frozen till our own
mothers would not have known us. And
our jfeet were very sore. In the morning,
when I hit the trail, I sweated to keep down
the cry when the pain of the snowshoes smote
me. Passuk never opened her lips, but
stepped to the fore to break the way. The
man howled.

" The Thirty Mile was swift, and the cur-
rent ate away the ice from beneath, and
there were many air-holes and cracks, and
much open water. One day we came upon
the man, resting, for he had gone ahead, as
was his wont, in the morning. But between
us was open water. This he had passed
around by taking to the rim-ice where it
was too narrow for a sled. So we found an
ice-bridge. Passuk weighed little, and went
first, with a long pole crosswise in her hands
in chance she broke through. But she was
light, and her shoes large, and she passed
over. Then she called the dogs. But they
had neither poles nor shoes, and they broke
through and were swept under by the water.
I held tight to the sled from behind, till the

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QRIT OF WOMEN.

traces broke and the dogs went on down
under the ice. There was little meat to
them, but I had comited on them for a
week's grub, and they were gone.

'* The next morning I divided all the grub,
which was little, into three portions. And
I told Long Jeff that he could keep up with
us, or not, as he saw fit ; for we were going
to travel light and fast. But he rais^ his
voice and cried over his sore feet and his
troubles, and said harsh things against com-
radeship. Passuk's feet were sore, and my
feet were sore — ay, sorer than his, for we
had worked with the dogs ; also, we looked
to see. Long Jeff swore he would die be-
fore he hit the trail again; so Passuk took
a fur robe, and I a cooking pot and an axe,
and we made ready to go. But she looked
on the man's portion, and said, ' It is wrong
to waste good food on a baby. He is better
dead.' I shook my head and said no— that a
comrade once was a comrade always. Then
she spoke of the men of Forty Mile; that
they were many men and good; and that
they looked to me for grub in the spring.
But when I still said no, she snatched the
pistol from my belt, quick, and as our brother
Bottles has spoken, Long Jeff went to the
bosom of Abraham before his time. I chided
Passuk for this; but she showed no sorrow,
nor was she sorrowful. And in my heart
I knew she was right."

Sitka Charley paused and threw pieces of
ice into the gold pan on the stove. The
men were silent, and their backs chilled to
the sobbing cries of the dogs as they gave
tongue to their misery in the outer cold.

** And day by day we passed in the snow
the sleeping places of the two ghosts — Pas-
suk and I — and we knew we would be glad
for such ere we made Salt Water. Then we
came to the Indian, like another ghost, with
his face set toward Pelly. They had not
whacked up fair, the man and the boy, he
said, and he had had no flour for three days.
Each night he boiled pieces of his moccasins
in a cup, and ate them. He did not have
much moccasins left. And he was a Coast
Indian, and told us these things through
Passuk, who talked his tongue. He was a
stranger in the Yukon, and he knew not the
way, but his face was set to Pelly. How
far was it ? Two sleeps ? ten ? a hundred ?
— he did not know, but he was going to
Pelly. It was too far to turn Iwwsk; he
could only keep on.

" He did not ask for grub, for he could
see we, too, were hard put. Passuk looked
at the man, and at me« as though she were

of two minds, like a mother partridge whose
young are in trouble. So I turned to her
and said, ' This man has been dealt unfair.
Shall I give him of our grub a portion ? ' I
saw her eyes light, as with quick pleasure ;
but she looked long at the man and at me,
and her mouth drew close and hard, and she
said, ' No. The Salt Water is afar off, and
Death lies in wait. Better it is that he take
this stranger man and let my man Charley
pass.' So the man went away in the Silence
toward Pelly. That night she wept. Never
had I seen her weep before. Nor was it the
smoke of the fire, for the wood was dry
wood. So I marveled at her sorrow, and
thought her woman's heart had grown soft at
the £urkness of the trail and the pain. It
was not till afterward that I came to under-
stand.

" Life is a strange thing. Much have I
thought on it, and pondered long, yet daily
the strangeness of it grows not less, but
more. Why this longing for Life ? It is
a game which no man wins. To live is to
toil hard, and to suffer sore, till Old Age
creeps heavily upon us and we throw down
our hands on the cold ashes of dead fires.
It is hard to live. In pain the babe sucks
his first breath, in pain the old man gasps
his last, and all his days are full of trouble
and sorrow ; yet he goes down to the open
arms of Death, stumbling, falling, with head
turned backward, fighting to the last. And
Death is kind. It is only Life, and the
things of Life that hurt. Yet we love Life,
and we hate Death. It is very strange.

'' We spoke little, Passuk and I, in the
days which came. In the night we lay in
the snow like dead people, and in the morn-
ing we went on our way, walking like dead
people. And all things were dcuEid. There
were no ptarmigan, no squirrels, no snow-
shoe rabbits — nothing. The river made no
sound beneath its white robes. The sap was
frozen in the forest. And it became cold,
as now; and in the night the stars drew
near and large, and leaped and danced ; and
in the day the sun dogs mocked us till we
saw many suns, and all the air flashed and
sparkled, and the snow was diamond dust.
And there was no heat, no sound, only the
bitter cold and the Silence. As I say, we
walked like dead people, as in a dream, and
we kept no count of time. Only our faces
were set to Salt Water, our sods strained
for Salt Water, and our feet carried us to-
ward Salt Water. We camped by the Tah-
keena, and knew it not. Our eyes looked
upon the White Horse, but we saw it not.

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ORIT OF WOMEN.

329

Our feet trod the portage of the Canyon,
but they felt it not. We felt nothing. And
we fell often by the way, but we fell, al-
ways, with our faces toward Salt Water.

'' Our last grub went, and we had shared
fair, Passuk and I, but she fell more often,
and at Caribou Crossing her strength left
her. And in the morning we lay beneath
the one robe and did not ^e the trail. It
was in my mind to stay there and meet Death
hand-in-hand with Passuk; for I had grown
old, and had learned the love of woman.
Also, it was eighty miles to Haines Mission,
and the great Chilcoot, far above the tim-
ber-line, reared his storm-swept head be-
tween. But Passuk spoke to me, low, with
my ear against her lips that I might hear.
And now, because she need not fear my an-
ger, she spoke her hearfc, and told me of her
love, and of many things which I did not
understand.

** And she said : * You are my man, Charley,
and I have been a good woman to you. And
in all the days I have made your fire, and
cooked your food, and fed your dogs, and
lifted paddle or broken trail, I have not
complained. Nor did 1 say that there was
more warmth in the lodge of my father, or
that there was more grub on the Chilcat.
When you have spoken, I have listened.
When you have ordered, I have obeyed. Is
it not so, Charley ? '

** And I said: * Ay, it is so.'

** And she said: * When first you came to
\the Chilcat, nor looked upon me, but bought
!ne as a man buys a dog, and took me away,
my heart was hard against you and filled
with bitterness and fear. But that was long
ago. For you were kind to me, Charley, as
a good man is kind to his dog. Your heart
was cold, and there was no room for me;
yet you dealt me fair and your ways were
just. And I was with you when you did
bold deeds and led great ventures, and I
measured you against the men of other
breeds, and I saw you stood among them
full of honor, and your word was wise, your
tongue true. And I grew proud of you, till
it came that you filled all my heart, and all
my thought was of you. You were as the
midsummer sun, when its golden trail runs
in a circle and never leaves the sky. And
whatever way I cast my eyes I beheld the
sun. But your heart was ever cold, Charley,
and there was no room.'

" And I said: ' It is so. It was cold, and
there was no room. But that is past. Now
my heart is like the snowfall in the spring,
when the sun has come back. There is a

great thaw and a bending, a sound of run-
ning waters, and a budding and sprouting of
green things. And there is drumming of
partridges, and songs of robins, and great
music, for the winter is broken, Passuk, and
I have learned the love of woman.'

" She smiled and moved for me to draw
her closer. And she said: ^I am glad.'
After that she lay quiet for a long time,
breathing softly, her head upon my breast.
Then she whispered : ' The trail ends here,
and I am tired. But first I would speak of
other things. In the long ago, when I was
a girl on the Chilcat, I play^ alone among
the skin bales of my father's lodge; for the
men were away on the hunt, and the women
and boys were dragging in the meat. It
was in the spring, and I was alone. A great
brown bear, just awake from his winter's
sleep, hungry, his fur hanging to the bones
in flaps of leanness, shoved his head within
the lodge and said, "Oof!" My brother
came running back with the first sled of
meat. And he fought the bear with burn-
ing sticks from the fire, and the dogs in
their harnesses, with the sled behind them,
fell upon the bear. There was a great bat-
tle and much noise. They rolled in the fire,
the skin bales were scattered, the lodge
overthrown. But in the end the bear lay
dead, with the fingers of my brother in his
mouth and the marks of his claw&upon my
brother's face. Did you mark the Indian
by the Pelly trail, his mitten which had no
thumb, his hand which he warmed by our
fire ? He was my brother. And I said he
should have no grub. And he went away in
the Silence without grub.'

'* This, my brothers, was the love of Pas-
suk, who died in the snow, by the Caribou
Crossing. It was a mighty love, for she
denied her brother for the man who led her
away on weary trails to a bitter end. And,
further, such was this woman's love, she
denied herself. Ere her eyes closed for the
last time she took my hand and slipped it
under her squirrel-skin parka to her waist.
I felt there a well-filled pouch, and learned
the secret of her lost strength. Day by day
we had shared fair, to the last least bit; and
day by day but half her share had she eaten.
The other half had gone into the well-filled
pouch.

" And she said: ' This is the end of the
trail for Passuk; but your trail, Charley,
leads on and on, over the great Chilcoot,
down to Haines Mission and the sea. And
it leads on and on, by the light of many
suns, over unknown lands and strange wa-

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330

CONDUCTOR PAT FRANCIS,

terSy and it is full of years and honors and
great glories. It leads you to the lodges of
many women, and good women, but it will
never lead you to a greater love than the
love of Passuk.'

" And I knew the woman spoke true.
But a madness came upon me, and I threw
the well-filled pouch from me, and swore
that my trail had reached an end, till her
tired eyes grew soft with tears, and she
said : ' Among men has Sitka Charley walked
in honor, and ever has his word been true.
Does he forget that honor now, and talk
vain words by the Caribou Crossing ? Does
he remember no more the men of Forty Mile,
who gave him of their grub the best, of their
dogs the pick ? Ever has Passuk been proud
of her man. Let him lift himself up, gird
on his snowshoes, and begone, that she may
still keep her pride.'

** And when she grew cold in my arms I
arose, and sought out the well-filled pouch,
and girt on my snowshoes, and staggered
along the trail ; for there was a weakness in

my knees, and my head was dizzy, and in my
ears there was a roaring, and a flashing of
fire upon my eyes. The forgotten trails of
boyhood came back to me. I sat by the full
pots of the po^ZocA feast, and raised my voice
in song, and danced to the chanting of the
men and maidens and the booming of the
walrus drums. And Passuk held my hand
and walked by my side. When I laid down
to sleep, she waked me. When I stumbled
and fell, she raised me. When I wandered
in the deep snow, she led me back to the
trail. And in this wise, like a man bereft
of reason, who sees strange visions and whose
thoughts are light with wine, I came to
Haines Mission by the sea.''

Sitka Charley threw back the tent-flaps.
It was mid-day. To the south, just clearing
the bleak Henderson Divide, poised the cold-
disked sun. On either hand the sun-dogs
blazed. The air was a gossamer of glitter-
ing frost. In the foreground, beside the
trail, a wolf-dog, bristling with frost, thrust
a long snout heavenward and mourned.

CONDUCTOR PAT FRANCIS.

By Frank H. Spearman,

Aathor of " The Nerve of Foley/' " The Million-Dollar Freight TraiD," and Other Stories.

HOW THE YELLOWSTONE EXCURSION ESCAPED ITS PURSUER.

HERE had been some talk at
headquarters about our con-
ductors. It was intimated,
and freely, from the audit-
ing department that the men
of the punch were not divid-
ing fairly with the company.
To this effect the general manager wrote
Bucks, superintendent of the mountain

division. Bucks filed the letter away in the
stove. Another communication fared no
better. But there were some new people at
headquarters ; they had a record to make,
and they proposed to write part of it on our
backs. Bucks got another letter ; he threw
it in the stove.

Pat Barlie often and often said he recom-
mended no man to drink whisky ; he only

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CONDUCTOR PAT FRANCIS.

331

recommended the whisky. I recommend no
rising railroad man to bum the third letter
on the same subject from his general manager;
I merely reconmiend Bucks. He was at that
time running the West End. They had tried
running the West End without Bucks a
while ; then they had tried again running it
with him. In both instances it was different.

But the next time the general manager was
out in his "'special/' he spoke to Bucks on
the subject as if the mention were a virgin
touch. Bucks muttered something about
' the general character of the trainmen and
the decent lives and habits of the passenger
conductors, and finished with an incidental
expression of confidence in the men ; that
was about all.

But the headquarters people, who were
largely Boston, had ways and means all their
own ; and failing to interest Bucks in their
hobby, they took a tack like this.

To begin with, the night was bad. A holy
fright, Pat Francis called it, and Pat had seen
most of the bad nights in the mountains for
twenty-two years steady. It was snowing
and raining and sleeting that night, all at
once ; and blowing — it blew the oil out of the
guide-cups. From the platform of the
Wickiup — nobody in the gorge would call it
a depot — from the Wickiup platform at
Medicine Bend, Number One seemed to roll
into division that night one reeking sheet of
alkali ice— soda and frost solid from lamp to
lamp.

She was late, too, with a pair of the best
engines that ever climbed a mountain head-
ing her. She had lost time every mile of
the way from the plains, and she was ordered
west with another double-head and a pusher
all the way over the Horseback. It was be-
cause there was a Yellowstone excursion
aboard. The Columbian Pacific connection
was on that account especially desired ; and
that night at twelve o'clock, mountain time,
with Number One especially late into the
Bend, and the track especially bad, and the
pull especially heavy, it looked — that Colum-
bian Pacific connection — especially doubtful,
except over in the despatchers' ofBces, where
they were being pounded to make it by the
excursion bureau.

Bucks was down that night. There were
many bad nights in the mountains, but Bucks
never missed any of them by going to bed.
On bad nights, Bucks, like a switchman's pipe,
was alwa3rs out. He — Bucks — personally ap-
peared at the Wickiup to see that things
went. The men liked him because he was

always ready to do anything he asked them
to do. There was an esprit, a nunrcde—
whatever you call it — and a loyalty to
Bucks personally, which made our men
take the chances that pay checks don't
cover.

So, although the Columbian Pacific con-
nection looked especially doubtful that night,
nevertheless there was Bucks, under a
slouching Stetson and an Irish frieze that
caught all the water coming its way, stand-
ing at the drivers of the head engine, while
Jack Moore, in leather from heel to jaw,
went into the slush under her to touch up
an eccentric with a reputation for cussed-
ness in a pinch. And a minute later Bucks
was walking back to figure with the out con-
ductor, Pat Francis, how to make schedule
across to Wild Hat ; though, as they talked,
each man knew the other was not tUnldng
at all of how to make schedule, but thinking —
though never a word out loud of it, and
hell to face all the way up the gorge on top
of it — of how with flesh and blood and steel-
to beat schedule that night and land the
uncertain connection, in spite of wind and
weather and the bureau's fears and the de-
spatchers' growls.

And all this for what ? To dump a
hundred or two Brooklyn people into the
Yellowstone twenty-four hours earlier than
they otherwise would have been dumped,
though without doubt they would have been
just that much belter off loafing twenty-four
hours longer away from theur newspapers
and ferries and street cars. Pat Francis
listened grimly. A short, stocky fellow,
Pat Francis. Not fat, but firm as a Bes-
semer bar, and with considerably quicker
play in his joints. He listened grimly, for
he thought he could domino every play Bucks
could make when it came to tricks for saving
time on the Wild Hat run. Yet it heartened
even Pat Francis, uncompromising and grim,
to have his superintendent there in the storm
helping cx^t out the work for such a particu-
larly beastly pull.

As Bucks broke away and started for the
door of the Wickiup, Morris Barker — the con-
ductor who had just brought the train in —
saluted, walking out. With his coat buttoned
snug, in the comfortable insolence of a man
going home, Morris stepped to the edge of
the platform to exchange confidences with
Pat Francis.

" Pat, there's a half-fare back in the Port-
land sleeper. I heard Mclntyre say at Mc-
Cloud that some of Alfabet Smith's men are
working up here. Anyway there's a cattle-

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CONDUCTOR PAT FRANCIS.

man in a canvas coat in the chair car, smooth
face, red tie, to look out for. He got on
at Harding and tried a short fare on me. I
sized him up for a. spotter."

" Why didn't you chuck him off? " growled
Pat Francis.

" He put up after a while — and you bet
that fare goes in with an embroidered report.
Well, good luck. Patsy."

Pat Francis raised his lamp through the
fog and rain at the engineers. Jack Moore
coughed, suddenly and twice, with his hollow
whistle. The hind engine saluted hoarsely ;
from the rear the pusher piped shrill, and
Bucks in the doorway watched the pant-
ing train pull taut up the Bend into the
swirling snow. And he knew as he watched
that nothing worth considering would get
away from Pat Francis — not a scheme nor
a cut-off nor a minute nor a re-vamped coupon
ticket. Pat before quitting at Benton, Pat
up the gorge and over the Horseback, was
pretty sure to catch everything inside the
vestibules.

He swung up on the platform of the bag-
gage-car as the train moved out, and shook
the snow off his cap as he opened the door.
He set his lamp on an up-ended trunk, took
off his overcoat and hung it up. In the front
end of the car a pack of hunting dogs yelped
a dismal chorus. Old John Parker, the bag-
gageman, was checking up a pile of trunks
that rose tier on tier to the roof of the car.
John Parker wore a pair of disreputable iron
spectacles. His hair, scant where it wasn't
extinct, tumbled about his head loose at both
ends. His gray beard was a good bit
stronger in the fly than in the hoist, and it
blew in the wind thin as a coach whip ; but
old John had behind his dirty spectacles a
pair of eyes just as fine as steel. Francis
opened his train box and asked the baggage-
man why he didn't kill those dogs, and getting
no answer — for John Parker was checking
hard and stopped only to shift his whiskers
off the clip — the conductor got out his blue
pencil and his black pencil and filed them
away, took up his punch and his trip checks
and put them in their proper pockets, shifted
his time-table from the box to still another
pocket, and picked up his lantern. The head-
end brakemas coming in just then with a
sash puller, Francis asked him to clean up
the globe.

IK^ile the brakeman fished for a piece of
waste, the conductor moved his wet overcoat
a peg nearer the stove and spread it out bet-
ter, and listened to a wild rumor old John
Parker had picked up about Number One's

being turned into a strictly ' limited " and
carrying a "diner" west of Bear Dance. With-
out wasting any comment, Pat looked at his
watch and listened to the click of the truck
over the fish-plates under foot, and to the
angry tremulous roar of the three furnaces
melting coal to push Number One up against
the wind, that curled like a corkscrew down
the long, narrow gorge. Then he took the
lantern from his menial, and strode quickly
through the vestibule into the dirty light and
foul air of the smoker.

"Tickets!"

No " please," that night, just "Tickets !"
short and snappy as a bear trap. He could
talk very differently at home to the babies —
but there was no suggestion of kootsying in
the tone that called for transportation in
the smoker. He passed down the aisle,
pulling, hauling, shaking the snoring brutes,
noting, punching, checking under the rays
of his lamp, until the last man was passed
and he walked into the chair car. There
was only one " go-back," a sleepy Italian who
couldn't — even after he had been jerked out
of his seat and turned upside down and inside
out, and shaken and cursed — still he couldn't
find his ticket. So Pat Francis passed him
with the shocking intimation which amounted
to an assurance, that if he didn't find it by
the time he got back he would throw him
off.

The transportation on Number One was
mostly through tickets and required only or-
dinary care as to the date limits ; not much
scalpers' stuff turned up on the west-bound.
Pat called again as he closed the door of the
chair car behind him a shade less harshly
for tickets, because one naturally respects
more people who ride in the chair car ; and
then there are women. One speaks more
civilly to women passengers, but scans their
transportation more carefully. However,
he wasn't thinking of women's wiles as he
quietly roused the sleepers and asked for
their credentials. They were worn, tired-
looking women ; haggjuxi, a good many of
them, from cat naps snatched in the specially
devised discomfort chairs, while their more
fortunate sisters slept peacefully back in the
hair-mattressed Pullman berths. He was
thinking solely as he mechanically went
through the checking operations, of a cattle-
man in a canvas coat, smooth face, and red
tie, who should by rights be now halfway
down the car, just ahead of him. But
conductor Francis didn't look. His eyes
never rose beyond the passenger under his
nose, for in front of a companj[^detective

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CONDUCTOR PAT FBANCIS.

333

the hate and the cnriosity are all concealed ;
the conductor is strictly on dress parade
with a sting in his right arm that he would
like to land directly under the spotter's ear.

A shabby traveling man — a cigar man —
handed up a local ticket. It was for Ante-
lope Gap. Pat Francis looked at it for a
minute before he punched it and stuck it in
his pocket.

" We don't stop at Antelope Gap to-night,"
said he shortly.

" Don't stop ? " echoed the cigar man, wide
awake in a fraction of a seconcL " Vy, since
ven ? Dey toU me you dit," he cried in the
most injured tone on the train.

"Can't help it."

'^Bnivy-ef*

"Fmlate."

"Bud y* god-do!" cried the cigar man,
raising a note of absolute terror, as Pat
Francis passed calmly on without attempting
to controvert the confidence of the drununer.

"Ain't you god-do?^ appealed the latter,
weakening a bit as he realized he was against
a quiet man and hard.

Not on local transportation. Ticket ! "
he continued to the next

But the cigar man happily came of a race
that does not uncomplainingly submit, and
he kicked vociferously, as Pat Francis ex-
pected he would. By the time the excited
salesman had woke everybody up in his end
of the car and worked himself into a lather,
Pat came at him with a proposition.

" Where you going from Antelope ? "

" VM Hat."

" What's the matter with going up to Wild
Hat to-night, and I'll give you a train check
back to Antelope on Two to-morrow ; then
you can get back on Seventy-One to the
Bend?"

The injured man considered quickly, ac-
cepted speedily. Two hundred miles for
nothing. " My frient ! Haff a cigar, aber
don for-ged my dransbordation back, viU
you ? " The conductor nodded as he took
the cigar stoically and moved on. It was
one stop saved, and the Antelope stop was a
terror any time with a big train like Num-
ber One.

Francis had reached the rear of the chair
car, when he had an impression he had for-
gotten something. He stopped to think.
The cattleman ! Turning, he looked back
sharply over the passengers. He even walked
slowly back through the car looking for the
fellow. There was no cattleman in sight,
and walking back, Francis dismissed him
with the conclusion that he must have gotten

off at the Bend ; and at once the air in the
chair car smelt fresher and cleaner. Into
the sleepers then — that was easy. Only to
take the batch of envelopes from each porter
or conductor, and tear off the coupons, and
in the Portland sleeper a half-fare which
meant only a little row with the tactless
man who had gone into a bitter discussion
with a conductor the day before away back
at the Missouri River, as to whether his boy
should pay fare. Instead of gracefully pay-
ing when called on, he had abused the con-
ductor, who, maybe because there was a
"spotter" sitting by, had felt compelled for
self-protection to collect the half rate. But
in retaliation for the abuse the conductor
had reported to the next conductor a half-
fare in the Portland sleeper, and thus started
an endless chain of annoyance that would
haunt the traveler all the way to the coast
But sometime travelers will study tact, and
forswear abuse and its penalties.

Conductor Francis, finishing the string of
loaded Pullmans, sat down in the smoking
room of the last car with the hind end brake-
man to straighten out his collections. Thd
headlight of the pusher threw in a yellow
dazzle of light on them, and the continuous
cut of its fo^e boomed from the stack. Pat
Francis, setting down his lamp, began to
sniff.

"Smell anything?" he asked presently of
his companion.

" No," answered the brakeman, drawing
his head from the curtain hood under which
he had been looking out into the storm.

" Something here don't smell right," said
Francis shortly, sorting his tickets. " Where
are we ? "

"Getting out of the gorge."

Francis looked at his watch. "Is Jack
holding his own ?" ventured the brakeman.

"Just about."

" Stop at Antelope to-night ? "

"Not on your life."

"Red Cloud?"

"Not to-night."

" How about the pusher ? "

"All the way over the Horseback to-
night."

"That's the stuff."

"That's Bucks. Bucks is the stuff," said
Pat Francis, arbitrarily picking up his lamp
to go forward. Two minutes later, he was in
the smoker, bending over the Italian and
shaking him.

" Got your ticket, Tony ?"

"No gotta ticket"

"Money?"

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CONDUCTOR PAT FRANCIS.

"No gotta d'mtm."

"Come on, then ! " Francis gripped him by
the collar.

"Whatado?"

"Throw you off."

The Italian drew back to resist. They
parleyed a moment longer, only because
Francis was bluffing. If he had meant to
stop the train at any point he would have
said nothing — simply dragged the fellow out
by the hair.

At last the Italian produced three dollars
and a half. It was only enough to check
him to Red Cloud. He wanted to go through,
and the fare was eleven dollars and twenty
cents.

The silent conductor stuck the money in
his pocket, and drew his cash-fare sUps.
Just then the pusher whistled a stop signal.
Francis started, suddenly furious at the
sound. Shoving the slips into his pocket, he
hurried to the vestibule and put his head
angrily out. Ahead he saw only old John
Parker's lamp and streamers. John had slid
his door before Francis could open the vesti-
bule. That was why the conductor loved
him, because nobody, not even he himself,
ever got ahead of John. When Francis poked
his head out to look for trouble, John Parker's
head was already in the wind inspecting the
trouble, which came this time from the hind
end. Looking back, Francis saw a blaze
leaping from a journal box.

" Just as I expected," he muttered, with a
freezing word. ' That hind-end man couldn't
smell a tar bucket if you stuck his head into
it. Get your grease, John," he shouted at
the old baggageman, " and a pair of brasses.
Hustle!"

There was hardly time for the crew to slip
into their overcoats, when Moore made a
sullen stop. But old John Parker was ready,
and waiting ahead of the stop with a can of
grease, bemuse John didn't have any over-
coat. He hustled bad nights without an
overcoat ; for his two girls were at boarding
school back in Illinois. John picked up
enough every month carrying dogs to buy an
overcoat, but the dog money went largely
for music and French, which were extras in
Illinois ; so the girls parkz-vou8*d, and John
piled out without any overcoat.

Pat Francis stormed worse than the moun-
tains as he followed him. All the scheming
to save a single stop was blazing away in the
hot box. Moore, on the head engine, was too
angry to leave his cab. It was just a bit too
exasperating. The pusher crew stood by,
and the second engineer helped just a little.

But it was Pat Francis and John, with the
safeties screaming bedlam in their ears, with
the sleet creeping confidingly down their
backs, and with the water soaking unawares
up their legs — it was Pat and John, silent
and stubborn, who dug bitterly at the sizzling
box, flung out the blazing waste, set the
screw, twisted it, hooked out the smoking
brasses, shoved in the new ones, dumped the
grease, stuffed the waste, and raised their
lamps for Moore before the last of the bad
words had blown out of the head cab and
down the canon. With a squeaking and
groaning and jerking, with a vicious break-
away and an anxious interval whenever a
pair of drivers let go, Moore got his enor-
mous load rolling up the grade again, and
kept her rolling hour after hour along curve
and tangent to the Horseback, and across.

At the crest day broke, and the long, heavy
train, far above the night and the storm,
screamed for the summit yard, slowed up,
halted, and every man jack of the train crew
and engine crews jumped off to shake hands
with himself on the plucky run — in spite of
it all, schedule and a hair better.

" How'd you ever do it. Jack ? " asked
Pat Francis at the head engine, as Moore
crawled out of her undersides.

" How late are we ? " returned the engin-
eer, stowing his can and calling for a wrench.

" Three hours."

" Beat the time a little, didn't we?" laughed
Moore, with a face like a lobster. " QnUdn't
done it, Pat, if you'd stopped me any-
where. I wouldn't done it — not for any-
body. Burdick is knocked clean out, too.
Are you all ready back there ? " The pusher,
disconnected, galloped, by with a jubilant
kick for the round-house ; and the double-
header, watered and coaled afresh, started
with Number One down the mountain
side.

A different start that — a running past the
wind instead of into it ; a sluing that
brought excursionists up in a tumble as the
sleepers swung lariat-like around the canon
comers. It was only a case of hanging on
after that, hanging on all the way to Wild
Hat ; and then, just as the Columbian Pacific
train passengers left their breakfasts at
Benton, Number One, gray and grimy, rolled
into the junction thirty-five minutes late —
and the agony was over. The connection
was safe, but nobody noticed who made it.
Everybody was too much occupied with the
sunshine and the scenery to observe a pair
of disreputable, haggard, streaked, hollow-
eyed tramps who made their way modestly

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CONDUCTOR PAT FRANCIS..

33SI

along the edge of the crowd that thronged
the platform. It was only Francis and Moore,
conductor and engineer of Number One.

The agony was over for everybody but
Pat Francis. Ten days later, Bucks, super-
intendent of the mountain division, sat in
his den at the Wickiup, reading a letter from
the general manager.

Sir : On Thursday, June 28th, Conductor P. Francis,
leaving M. B. on Number One, collected a cash fare of
three dollars and fifty cents from one of our special
service men. He failed to issue a cash-fare slip for
this as required ; furthermore, he carried this passenger
all the way to Benton. Kindly effect his discharge.
Let it be distinctly understood that all delinquencies of
this nature wiU be summarily dealt with.

A. W. Bannerman,

General Manager,

It wasn't a letter to go to the stove — ^not
that kind of a letter ; but Bucks fingered it
much as Pat Francis ought to have fingered
the clever detective who turned from the
chair car to the '' smoker" on him and from
a cattleman to a " dago."

Bucks called the trainmaster. Francis
was west, due to leave Benton that afternoon
on Two, and, as luck would have it, to bring
back theBrooklyn party from the Yellowstone.
And the passenger department in Chicago
was again heating the wires with injunctions
to taJ^e care of them, and good care of them,
because the excursion business on a new line
is not only profitable, but it is hard to work
up, and trouble with an excursion in the
beginning means a hoodoo for months, and
maybe for years to come.

Bucks felt especially gratified to know
that Pat Francis had the precious load, but
what s^out the cash fare from Medicine
Bend to Red Cloud ? Bucks knew these
things couldn't be trifled with — ^not on his
line — and he faced the pleasant prospect
of next morning greeting his right bower
in the passenger service with an accusation
of theft and a summary discharge. If he
had only asked me for three dollars and a
half, thought Bucks sorely. He would rather
have given his own pay check than to have
had Pat Francis hold up one dollar.

And Pat Francis, taciturn, sphinx-like, was
punching transportation at that particular
moment on Number Two on the run east from
Benton. Checking passengers, keeping one
eye on the ventilators and the other on the
date limits, working both pencils, both hands,
both ears, both ends of the punch, and both
sides of the car at the same time.

There wasn't a cinder to break the even

enjoyment of the run up to the clouds.
Everybody was going home, and going home
happy. From Sie Pullmans — it was warm
and sunny in the mountains — came nothing
but rag time and Brooklyn yells. To de-
scribe our scenery might be invidious, but the
grade where Number Two was then climbing
would alone make the fortune of an ordinary
eastern scenic line.

The Overland Freight, Number Sixty-six,
east-bound with a long train of tea, was
pulling out of Toltec station as Number Two
stuck its head into the foot of the Noose.

At Toltec, on the day run, we take a man's
breath and give him large value for his
money in a bit of the prettiest engineering
anjTwhere on earth.

Toltec lies in the Powder Range, near the
foot of a great curve called the Noose, be-
cause every time an engineer slips the head
of his train into it he is glad to hold his
breath till he gets it out.

The Toltec Noose is engineering magnifi-
cent ; but it is raihroading without woiSs —
unless one counts the wicked words. Eagle
Pass station, the head of the Noose, looks
across an unspeakable gulf directly down
into Toltec, 500 feet below, and barely a
mile away. But by the rail we count seven .
miles around that curve, and without any
land-grant perquisites, either.

Every train that runs the Noose is double-
headed both ways, and now — this was before
— they add, to keep trainmen off the relief
scrap, a pusher.

That day there was no pusher behind the
Overland Freight, and Number Two's crew, .
as they pulled out of Toltec to climb the
loop, could plainly see, above and across, the
storming, struggling, choking engines of
the tea train as they neared with t£eir load
tiie summit of Eagle Pass.

The wind bore down to them in breakings
waves the sucking, roaring cut of the quiver-
ing furnaces. Pat Francis stood in the
open door of the baggage-car, old John
Parker and the head brakeman beside him,
looking together at the freight with the
absorbed air of men at the bottom of a well
who watch the loaded bucket near the top.

Through the thin, clear mountain air they
could almost read the numbers on the engine
tenders. They could see the freight con-
ductor start over his train for the head-end,
and as they looked they saw his train break
in two behind him and the rear end, parting
like a snake's tail, slough off, lose headway,
and roll back down the hilL The hind-end
brakeman, darting from the caboose, ran up

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336

CONDUCTOR PAT FRANCIS.

the ladder like a cat, and began setting
brakes. The passenger crew saw the brake-
shoes clutch in a flame at the slipping trucks,
but the drawbars couldn't stand it. From
one of the big tea cars a drawhead parted
like a tooth. The tea train again broke in
two, tUs time behind the rear brakeman,
and the caboose with five 60,000-pound cars
shot down the grade ; and Number Two was
now climbing above Toltec.

A volley of danger signals curled white
from the freight engine across the gulf. Pat
Francis sprang for the bell cord, but it was
needless ; his engineers at the very mo-
ment threw double chambers of air on the
wheels.

It caught cards off the whist tables, and
swept baked potatoes into the bosoms of
astonished diners, it spoiled the point of
pretty jokes and broke the tedium of stupid
stories, it upset roysterers and staggered
sober men, it basted the cooks with gravy
and the waiters with fruit, it sent the blood
to the hearts and a chill to the brains, it
was an emergency stop and a severe one —
Number Two was against it. Before the
frightened portera could open the vestibules
the passenger engines were working in the
back motion, and Number Two was scuttling
down the Noose to get away from impending
disaster. The trainmen huddled again in the
baggage-car door, with their eyes glued on
the runaways; the Noose is so perfect a
curve that every foot of their flight could be
seen. It was a race backwards to save the
passenger train ; but for every mile they
could crowd into its wheels the runaways
were making two. Pat Francis saw it first
— saw it before they had covered half the
distance back to Toltec. They could never
make the hill west of the Noose; it wasn't in
steam to beat gravity; moreover, if they
crowded Number Two too hard she might fly
an elevation, and go into the gulf. It is one
thing to run down hill, and another thing to
fall down hill. The tea train was faUing
down hill.

Francis turned to bareheaded John Parker,
and handed him his watch and his money.

"What do you mean?" John Parker
choked the words out, because he knew what
he meant.

"Turn this stuff in to Bucks, John, if I
don't make it. If s all company money."

The brakeman, greenish and dazed, steadied
himself with a hand on the jamb ; the bag-
gageman stared wild-eyed through his rusty
lenses. " Pat," he faltered, " what do you
mean?"

" I'll drop off at the Toltec switch and may-
be I can open it to catch that string— we^
never make it this way, John, in Gknl's
world."

" You might a'most as well jump out into
the canon ; you'll never live to use a switch
key, Pat — we're crowding a mile a min-
ute—"

Francis looked at him steadily as he pulled
his ring and took a switch key off the bunch.

" They're crowding Two, John."

The car slued under them. John Parker
tore off his spectacles.

" Pat, I'm a lighter man than you — give me
the switch key!" he cried, gripping the con-
ductor's shoulder as he followed him out the
door to the platform.

"No."

"Your children are younger than mine,
Pat. Give me the key."

"This is my train, John. Ask Bucks to
look after my insurance."

With these words, Francis tore the old man's
hand roughly away. When a minute is a
mile, action is quick. Sixty, seventy seconds
more meant the Toltec switch, and the con-
ductor ahready hung from the bottom step of
the baggage-car.

Pat ^ancis was built like a gorilla. He
swung with his long arms in and out from
the reeling train into a rhythm, one foot
dangling in the suck of dust and cinders, the
other bracing lightly against the step tread.
Then, with the switch key in his mouth ; with
Parker's thin hair streaming over him, and a
whirlwind sucking to the wheels under him ;
with Number Two's drivers racing above him
and a hundred passengers staring below him,
Pat Francis let go.

Men in the sleepers, only half understand-
ing, saw as he disappeared a burst of alkali
along the track. Only old John Parker's
gray eye could see that his conductor, though
losing his feet, had rolled clear of the trucks
and drivers, and was tumbling in the storm
center like a porcupine. Above him the tea
cars were lurching down the grade. Old
John, straining, saw Francis stagger to his
feet and double back like a jack-knife on the
ballast. A lump jumped into the baggage-
man's throat, but Francis' head rose again
out of the dust ; he raised again on his hands,
and dragging after him one leg like a dead
thing, crawled heavily towards the switch.
He reached the stand and caught at it. He
pulled himself up on one leg, and fumbled an
instant at the lock, then he jerked the target
As it fell, clutched in both his hands, the
caboose of the tea train leaped on the tongue

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CONDUCTOR PAT FRANCIS.

337

rail. The fore truck shot into the switch.
The heels, caught for a hundredth of a second
in the slue, flew out, and like the head of a
foaming cur the caboose doubled frantically
on its tailers. The tea cars tripped, jumped
the main rail like cannon balls, one, two,
three, four, five — out and into the open gulf.

The crash rolled up the gorge and down.
It drove eagles from their nests and wolves
from their hollows. Startled birds wheeling
above the headlong cars shrieked a chorus ;
a cloud like smoke followed the wreck down
the mountain side. And the good people on
Number Two, the pleasure seekers that Pat
Francis was taking care of — for $125 a
month— saw it all and tried to keep cool and
think.

He lay prostrate across the road, a bruised
and lirty and bloody thing. John Parker,
stumbling on rickety knees, reached him first,
and turned him over. John first spoke to him,

but he spoke again and again before the blood-
shot eyes reluctantly opened. And then Pat
Francis, choking, spitting, gasping, clutching
at John Parker's bony arm, raised his head.
It fell back into the cinders. But he doggedly
raised it again — and shook the broken teeth
from between his lips — and lived. His face
was like a section of beefsteak, and the iron
leg that struck the ballast last had snapped
twice under him. A few minutes afterward
he lay in the stateroom of the forward
sleeper, and tried with his burning, swollen
tongue to talk to Brooklyn men who feelingly
stared at him, and to Brooklyn women who
prettily cried at him, and to old John Parker
who unsteadily swore at him as he fanned
his own whiskers and Pat Francis' head
with the baggage clip.

When Number Two rolled into Medicine
Bend next morning, Bucks climbed aboard,
and without ceremony elbowed his way

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338

CONDUCTOR PAT FRANCIS.

through the excursionists dressing in the
aisles to the injured conductor's stateroom.
He was in there a good bit. When he came
out, the chief priests of Brooklyn crowded
round to say fast things to the superintend-
eiTi cfcliuufr liio conductor and their conductor.
As they talked, Bucks looked in a minute
over their heads ; he did that way when
thinking. Then he singled out the Depew of
the party and put his hand on his shoulder.

" Look here," said Bucks, and his words
snapped like firecrackers, ''I want you
gentlemen to do something for your con-
ductor."

" We've made up a purse of $300 for him,
my friend," announced the spokesman gladly.

"I don't mean that; not that. He's in
trouble. You needn't waste any breath on
me. I know that man as well as if I'd made
him. I'll tell you what I want. I want you
to come upstairs and dictate your account of
the accident to my stenographer. While
you're eating breakfast, he'll copy it and you
can all sign it afterward. Will you ? "

'•' Will we? Get your slave! "

" I'll tell you why," continued Bucks, ad-
dressing the Brookljm man impressively.
^' You look like a man who, maybe, knows
what trouble is — ^"

"I do."

"I "thought so," exclaimed Bucks, warm-
ing. ** If that's so, we belong to the same
lodge — same degree. You see, there's
charges against Um. They've had spotters
after him," added Bucks, lowering his voice
to the few gentlemen ':vho ^.rowded about.

" There's plenty of Brooklyn in<^n here for
a lynching !"

Bucks smiled a far-off smile. " The boys
wouldn't trouble you to help if they coiJd
catch them. I want your statement to send
in to headquarters with Francis' answer to
the charges. They tried to make him out a
thief, but I've just found out they haven't
touched him. His explanation is perfectly
straight."

The men of Brooklyn tumbled up the
Wickiup stairs. At breakfast, the news

traveled faster than hot rolls. When the
paper was drawn, the signing began ; but
they so crowded the upper floor vSaX Bucks
was afraid of a collapse, and the testimonial
was excitedly carried down to the waiting-
room. Then the women wanted to sign.
When they began, it looked serious, for no
woman could be hurried, and those who were
creatures of sentiment dropped a tear on
their signatures, thinking the paper was to
hang in Pat Francis' parlor.

In the end Bucks had to hold Number Two
thirty minutes, and to lay out the remains
of the tea train, which was still waiting to
get out of the yard.

After the last yell from the departing ex-
cursionists, Bucks went back to his oflSce,
and dictated for the general manager a
report of the Toltec wreck. Then he wrote
this letter to him :

Replying to yours of the eighth, relative to the
charges against conductor P. J. Francis. I have his
statement in the matter. The detective who paid the
cash fare to Red Cloud was not put off there because
no stop was made, the train being that night under my
orders to make no stops below Wild Hat It was the
first of the Brooklyn Yellowstone excursions, and Chi-
cago was anxious to make the Columbian Pacific con-
nection. This was done in spite of Number One's
coming into this division three hours late and against
a hard storm. At Wild Hat the detective, rigged as
an Italian, was overlooked in the hurry and carried by.
While no cash-fare slip was issued, the fare was turned
in by Conductor Francis to the auditor in the regular
way, and investigation of his trip report will, he tells
me, confirm his statement of fact. If so, I think
you will agree with me that he is relieved of any sus-
picion of dishonesty in the matter. I have neverthe-
less cautioned him on his failure to hand the passenger
a fare-voucher, and have informed him that his expla-
nation was entirely satisfactory ; in fact, after the
^air at Toltec he deserves a great deal more from the
w.'^'^ny. By request of the Brooklyn excursionists, I
inclose an expression of their opinion of Conductor
Francis' jump from Number Two to set the Toltec
switch. All of ti^ich is respectfully submitted.
^ ^. Bucks,

Superintendent.

Pat Francis is still nmiung passenger.
But Alfabet Smith's men work more now on
the East End.

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by GoK JuiNEMo

Mi'f>.\>

''^''' ''''■' ^r' if Li^'r?'^i)S'-^lE^

-<r^r:

A STORY OP ORPHAN SCHOOL LIFE.

THE colored youth was not strikingly in-
telligent, but he was deeply and impres-
sively dramatic. He was the chance ac-
quaintance of a summer afternoon — a great,
still, empty Sunday afternoon in the country,
when chance acquaintances are at a pre-
mium. He was a more than ordinarily
accomplished story-teller. His fixed and
distant eye, his great, glistening, crescent
smile, and his enormous hands, gave vivid
emphasis to his primitive but intense emo-
tions. All that afternoon this grotesque
being — but three removes from the African
jungle — sat beside me in that bare New
England pasture and told me the story of
his short and unenviable career. Below us,
beyond the stone wall at the foot of the
slope, the clumsy Sunday vehicles of the
countryside rattled slowly by, and disap-
peared up the winding road in a trailing
cloud of thick brown dust. And in the maple
trees the vireos wound out their intermina-
ble sultry song.
His case was not unusual. The last two

generations of his race had been seeing life
in the slums of a great city. His parents,
when he was but two years old, had suc-
cumbed almost simultaneously to delirium
tremens, or some similar refinement of civi-
lization, and left him in the great, cold lap \
of the mother State. At a tender age she
had sent him out to bear the bitter bondage
of a small New England farmer. Since then
he had remained in this country place —a fix-
ture, apparently, upon the soil. "Where
were you," I asked, " before they sent you
here?**

" At the State primary school, Boss — the
one in Munster."

I knew the place. It is a big white, cold,
old-fashioned bam of a building, set at the
summit of a barren hill. I remembered all
I had seen there— the long lines of squirming,
shufiling, bullet-headed small boys, looking
for all the world like gray rats, in their dull
State uniforms ; the hulking, vicious big
boys— half-fledged, callow criminals, hunger-
ing and thirsting after wickedness ; the un-

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340

A WHITE SHEEP.

feminine little girls, with their sharp fea-
tures and straight hair ; the sickening smell
of coarse boiled food in the empty kitchens ;
the rows of iron beds, the keepers, and, over
all, the tall, lank, sallow, superintendent, with
his cold, fishy gray eyes and black side-
whiskers, cut well up toward his cheekbones —
a model for an immortal statue of the insti-
tution autocrat. It was no picture of happy
childhood to treasure in a sentimental mem-
ory.

" Yes, sah," he continued. " I was there
f oh a long time — from when I was jest a
baby till I was most fo'teen."

HoVd you like to go back, George," said
I, " and finish your education ?"

The question excited him. He started up
quickly from his lounging position. ''I
wouldn't do it. No, sah. I don't want none
of them educationin' me no more. I wouldn't
go back there. No, sah; I'd die fust, I
would, rd die right hyar."

"Why not? "said I.

" Why not. 'Cause I wouldn't — thaf s why.
Look hyar. Boss," he said, lowering his voice
to a vast confidential whisper, " you don' know
'bout that there primary school That was
a bad place, it was. Yes, sah. They didn't
act as if you had no f eelin's there ; they treat
you jest lake you was sheeps or cows or
dogs. The fellers there, too, they was mighty
bad ones. Oh, they despret — fightin' all the
time, jest lake lions and tigers. Yes, sah,
and steal and lie and do everythin'. Oh, they
was dangerous. You know that Ed Fitts
that killed a woman in Manchester las'
spring. He's one of 'em. Yes, sah, I knows
him ; he was there. And there's lots more
of 'em there, too — jest such as him — in prison
now, hundreds of 'em."

"Weren't there any good ones?" I
asked.

" No, sah, nothin' to speak of. They was
most all jest the same as that."

" Say, George," said I, remembering the
famous investigation, " you must have been
there when that Pierpont boy was there."

" Who's that ? " said the youth ; " that lit-
tle fellow. Yes, sah, I remember him ; I
recollect him mighty well."

"What kind of a fellow was he ?" said I.

"Oh, he was awful smart little feller, and
a mighty good feller, too. He was different,
he was ; yes, sah."

"How*d he get along there ?" said I.

"Say, Boss, I'll tell you all 'bout that little
feller if you wants me to," said the youth.

"Go ahead," said I.

This was his story:

Yes, sah, that little feller, I recollect the
very fust day he come there. I was wukkin'
on the house job, and I was in the supin-
tenant's oflSce when they took him in. He
was a little white, puny feller. His legs
weren't no bigger'n little pieces of grass.
But his eyes keptlookin', lookin' right straight
ahead — jest lake a lion's. Yes, sah, he had
terrible bright eyes, he did.

"What's you name?" says ol' supinten-
ant.

"Idunno."

" You dunno ? " says supintenant, kind o'
mad lake.

Then the feller that brings him in says,
" Cornelius Sullivan, that's his name."

" No 'tain't, neither," says little feller.

" That's what his mother says bef oh she
dies," says the man.

"She ain't my mother," says the little
feller, starin' at the man, with them eyes a-
blazin'.

" Whafs you name then ?" says ol' sup-
intenant.

" I dunno," says little feller, lookin' down.
" I don' remember ; I was sick ; I forgot."

" Guess he sick all right," says the man,
rappin' on his head.

You liar," says little feller. " You lemme
go ; you ain't got no right to take me hyar."

"That'll do ; that'll do," says ol' supinten-
ant. " You march inside there pretty mighty
quick." So little feller march in ; he couldn'
do nothin' else.

They puts him in the Little Yard, 'long
with the other little boys. Fust other fellers
don' know whether they likes this little feller
or not. Fust time new fellers come, they
all jest the same. Fust week they cry, cry
all the time. This little feller different ; he
don' cry much— only a little, way round back
where they don' see him. Then the fellers
goes up to him : " Say, what's you name ? "

He don' answer.

" Oh, never min', you all right ; you'll lake
it here. What's you name ? "

He don' answer one word.

"I know what's his name," I says. "I
heard it in supintenant's office. His name's
Cornelius Sullivan."

"You liar," says little feller, "I ain't no
Irish feller."

The other fellers, they all laugh when they
hears that. There's all kinds of boys there
— Irish, Italians, Germans, colored fellers —
everythin', exceptin' only Chinamens. They
ain't no Chinamens there. I guess not !
No, sah ; they'd kill them. Then one fellef
hollers out : " I'll t^" ^'^^ whaf we'll dcB

A WHITE SHEEP.

341

we'll call him Irish." So after that they
always calls him Irish — all the time.

Post he don' like it ; he wants to fight.
Then he don' care 'tall. After a while they
all lake him better. He ain't afraid of nothin'.
Fust day he come he wants to fight Mike
Finnegan. That Mike Finnegan, he's the
biggest feller there is in the Yard. Every-
body's 'fraid of him ; he's 'busin' you all the
time, makin' you do things you don' want to,
and twistin' you arm and all such as that.
Fust day Irish comes, he's twistin' little
feller's arm, when the Boss of the Yard ain't
lookin.'

" Oh, lemme go, lemme go," little feller
hollerin' like that, kind of under his breath,
so Boss can't hear him. " Plmse lemme go ;
I won't never do it again."

Irish, he walks right up to him. He say :
" Leggo him, you big caff, you." Then nobody
say a word. Seems lake he ain' more'n half
as big as Mike.

Mike stops twistin' little feller. "Who
goin' to make me ? " he say.

"lam."

"Who's you?"

Oh, they'd been a fight right there, only the
Boss he come back. Out there at school you
can't fight, without you gets permission.
No, sah. If you does, they goin' to lambaste
you. So Mike, he say, under his breath lake :
" You jest wait ; I'll fix youJ^ After that
they both waitin', waitin'. Irish he don' say
nothin', but he ain' 'fraid, neither.

Right after that they had that fight with
them town fellers down at Munster. Out
there at school you's all graded — fust grade
and second grade and third grade and all
lake that— 'cordin' to how puffect actin' you
is. Fust grade and second grade can go
down town sometimes. All the others, they
can' go outside the groun's. When the fel-
lers go down to town they shamed — they all
walk with their heads down, lake this — all
jest the same, I don' care who 'tis — jest lake
they was in prison. Only Irish when he
fust come, he don' care. He hoF his head
right up in the air.

Well, that time I was tellin' you 'bout,
whole lot of school fellers goes down to
Munster. The other day jest before that,
Munster fellers comes up to school to play
base-ball, and we licks 'em. We always
does — those fellers at school plays ball all
the time — ever since they so high. Munster
fellers, they mad. When they sees school
fellers down town, they all holler " Jail-bird,
Jail-bird," loud's they can holler.

That make school fellers mighty mad; only

they won't fight ; they don' dare to for fear
what they'll get when they gets back to
school. But Irish starts it ; he ain't 'fraid.

Then pretty soon they all fightin' — throwin'
rocks, too. One Munster feller gets his head
cut mighty bad. Then they all runs ; they
ain't hoUerin' "Jail-bird" no more. School
fellers f oiler 'em, throwin' stones and rocks.
They don' care now ; they started, they des-
pret ; chase Munster fellers all over, and
break winders and holler.

Then right away Munster cop comes along,
and they runs back to school. He can't
catch 'em ; he ain't no good — big fat feller,
different from city cop. He's nothin' only
one of them kind of farmer policemens. He
comes up to school right away, puffin' and
blowin', and goes to ol' supintenant. He
say : " Them boys been down breakin' winders
and chasin' our boys. They most kill one
feller." He don' say nothin' 'bout them
Mimster fellers beginnin' it.

Then ol' supintenant calls fellers all in and
gets 'em all up in a row. He say : " YHio^s
that hit that Munster boy ?"

"Idunno."

Nobody knows.

"Sit on the bench foh eight days," he
say. Yes, sah, eight days. Jest lake, say,
to-day's Monday ; well, way round by Mon-
day again. Jest set there ; can't go out
'tall. When supintenant say that, Insh he
jump right up. " Don't keep 'em in," he say,
" I'm the feller ; I started it."

"Oh, you did, did yer?"

"Yes, sah. They hollerin': 'Jail-birds,
jail-birds,' all the time. They ain't got no
right to holler at us lake that. I ain't no
jail-bird."

" Oh, you ain't, ain't yer ? I'll show yer.
I'm goin' to jail-bird you.^

Then ol' supintenant takes him right out
before rest of 'em, and lambastes him awful.
Irish he don' holler or nothin'. Only he
jest kind of white and ol' lookin'. 01' supin-
tenant can't make him cry. And it don'
make no difference after all. We all sets
on the bench eight days jest the same.

After that, fellers all lake Irish — all only
Mike Finnegan, he don' lake him; he's 'busin'
him all the time. Irish he wants to fight
him. He goin' to the Boss all the time and
sayin' " I wants to fight that feller."

Out there to school you fights— they don'
mind it 'tall — providin' you goes and gets
permission. Then they makes a ring, lake
that, and they all stan' round and the Boss
he say : " Ready— go." Then they fights.

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They don' hoi' their hands up lake that ;
they holds 'em down, this a way. Oh, they
fighters down there ; they know how — little
fellers, no bigger'n that.

When Irish asks the Boss, he jest laugh
and say : " You don' want to fight him ; you
ain't big enough." But all the time Irish
keeps at him. He's gettin' stronger lookin'
then, all the time. The ol' woman who had
him before didn't give him enough to eat, so
he's better off at school. Pretty soon Boss
he say : " All right ; go ahead."

Then they makes the ring, and they goes
at it. Golly, how they fights. They never
see no fightin' lake that there before. Mike
Finnegan, he's biggest feller in the Yard,
and mighty good fighter too. Irish, he's
only a little feller, but you never see such a
fighter. He went foh him, and smashed
him and hammered him, jest sayin' nothin'
'tall, only fightin'. Mike he couldn't stan' it.
He had to quit. Little feller had him licked
all to pieces. Then how they hollered ; and
the Boss, he jest laugh and laugh. " What's
matter with you, Mike ?" he say. " Sick ? "

Mike he don' say nothin'.

" Look hyar," says Boss to Mike. " Don'
you try none of you dirty tricks on that fel-
ler. If you do, you goin' to be mighty
sorry."

That Mike, he mighty mean feller ; he do
anythin'. After that, Irish, he's head rooster
of that Yard. All the fellers lake him too,
mighty well. Little while after that our Boss,
he leaves. He's got another job. Fellers
hates to have him go. They lakes him,
better'n teachers, or anybody. They makes
him a mighty fine box out of wood in the
wuk-shop, wukkin' playtimes to get it done.
And they buys him a gran' necktie down to
Munster — one of them red velvet ones, with
gold spots in it.

The next Boss he's mighty diflferent. He's
kind of relation to the supintenant, and he
don' care. He's big fat feller, with great
big neck, and awful red face. Fellers don'
lake him 'tall. He's all time hollerin' and in-
terferin'. He don' call us by our name,
neither — only jest by number. He say :
" You all got numbers, ain't you, where you
sleeps and eats ? "

"Yes, sah."

"Well, then, Tm goin' to call you by num-
ber, understan' ? I ain't got no time to
learn all you names."

He's all time sayin', "Hyar, Hyar. Look
hyar, you stop that" And "go eet my
coat," and "black my shoes." And you do
that " and " you do this," He don' do nothin'

himself. Then he's smashin' us all the time.
For nothin*, too ; he can't stop it. Every-
body's 'fraid ; he's strong jest lake a giant.
Irish, he's lucky ; he keeps out of his way
long time. By and by one day. Boss he hol-
lers "Number 14" — that's his number —
" you come hyar."

Irish he don' budge.

Then he holler again.

Irish he don' stir.

He say : " Oh, you won't, won't yer ?" and
he goes over and gets him. Boys all mighty
solemn. "What you mean not comin' when
I calls yer?"

"You didn't caU me."

"Didn't I call you number ?"

"I dunno, and I don* care; I ain't no num-
ber, Fse a boy. I got a name jest same
you has."

Then Boss he starts to smash him. But
he don* smash him much. Foh all of a sud-
den the fellers they can' stan' it no longer.
They all breaks loose and comes for him;
more'n about fifty of 'em. Oh, they despret
They climbs all over that Boss ; they knocks
him down, and poun's him, and kicks him
fearful — ^yes, sah — and breaks his watch.
He hollers loud's he can holler. All the rest
comes rushin' in ; ol' supintenant and all.
Supintenant, he say : " What's this ? What's
this?" He terrible mad.

New Boss he can't hardly speak."

" This goin' to stop," says ol' supintenant.
" Who's the fellers started it ? "

''That's the feller," says the new Boss,
pufiin' and blowin', pointin' his finger at
Irish.

" So, it's you again, is it ?" says ol' supin-
tenant, jest glarin' at him fearful.

"'Tain't my fault," says Irish. "He's
smashin' us all the time, and callin' us num-
bers. He ain't got no right to. Look-a there,
where he's been smashin' me."

* ' You keep still," says ol' supintenant " I
don' want to hear nothin' from you."

New Boss, he comes round all right, only
he's got a mighty black eye. 01' supintenant
say : " We goin' to stop this, we goin' to
stop it right away. I don' care if you kill
half of 'em doin' it." Then he takes Irish
over to the Boss, and he wallops him right
there ; he wallops him fearful. Irish he jest
stands it. He don' holler or nothin'.

or supintenant say : " He's bad one."

" Never mind, Fll take care of Aim," says
the Boss, lookin' dangerous.

After that he smashes us more'n ever.
We don' do nothin' no more. It ain't no use.
Only Mike Finnegan ; he don't smash Ainu

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343

' THE BOSS HE SAY : ' READY, 00.'

Mike he's too cunnin*. He tells him he didn*
fight him that time — and likely he didn'
neither. He won't do nothin' that Irish
starts. Mike he's sayin' : " Yes, sah," " yes,
sah," "yes, sah," all the time, and runnin'
and gettin' his coat, and all such as that.
But the Boss, he's jest layin' f oh Irish. He

lambastes him, and he wuks him, and he
sends him way from the table before he's
got 'nough to eat — all foh nothin' ; and he
makes him lift heavy things he hadn't ought
to. He say : " I'se goin' to break you. You
see.

Irish he can* hardly stan' it. Be's gettin'

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A WHITE SHEEP,

thin, and his back is all over long white
marks. He shows 'em to us at night. Bye
and bye fellers find out somebody's tellin' —
tellin* — mostly on Irish. He can' do nothin*.
We dunno who 'tis, but we guess mighty
near. It's Mike Finnegan ; he's gettin' back
at Irish. Fellers don' lake it. Insh he ain't
sayin' nothin', but he's actin' mighty queer.
He's eamin' pennies and savin' 'em all the
tune. Oh, he's a regular miser feller. The
other fellers don' know what it means. He
don' want 'em to ; he's gettin' ready to run
away.

Pretty soon the Boss gets mad at Mike
Finnegan. He catches Sm lyin' to him.
Then he smashes him ; he smashes him good.
Mike he don' say nothin'; he waitin', waitin'.

Right after that, Irish he wake up in the
night, and see Mike Finnegan crawlin' out
of bed. He goes creepin', creepin' over into
the comer, and lights a match — careful,
careful, so they won't hear him. Irish he
follows him soft in his bare feet. Right
there's a lot of shavin's and oil he's stole
from the lamps, stuffed into a hole in the
floor. Everybody sleepin' and snorin'; all
dark. Irish grabs him.

" Look hyar, what you doin' ? "

He jumps ; he thinks he's caught. Then
he don' care ; he' sees it's Irish, " I'm goin'
to bum up this place. Then we'll all get
away."

"You stop that business mighty quick.
You'd bum all the girls up, and most of the
fellers too, pretty Ukely. If I catches you
out again I'll kill you."

So he goes back, swearin' and cussin'.
Some of the fellers wake up then, though
they whisperin' all the time. " We've got to
keep watchin' him," says Irish. "Maybe
he'll do it again. We'll all get burned to
death sleepin'."

So they keep watchin', all night long, but he
don' get up again. Next momin' they throw
all the stuff away, and nobody knows nothin'
about it. Oh, that's a bad place ; lots of things
they never know about just such as that.

Next day, Irish he says to fellers : " You
know what he's goin' to do, if that fire'd
gone ? He's goin' tell 'em I done it. They'd
believe it, too." That's right, too. That
Mike Finnegan, he's a mean one — if we all
bumed up, he don' care ; then he'd say Irish
done it.

After that Irish he still savin', savin'. He
ain't goin' off without no money. The fellers
that does that they don' get nowhere. They
always get caught. He's goin' to get one
dollar — jest one dollar — and then he's goin'.

One old feller in the big yard, who's run away
a lot, tells him he's jest got to have a dollar.
Then he'll mn and get a freight train, and by
and by he'll get off at a little small station,
and buy a ticket, and they won't never see
him again. The brakemens on a freight
train, they mighty good to a feller. They
feeds you and helps you, too. But when
you gets to the city, the policemens always
lookm' for you on freight trains. They don'
never look on passenger trains ; they don'
think you'd be there.

So Irish he's wukkin' and slavin' to earn
his dollar — jest one little dollar. It don'
seem so little there, though ; if s mighty big.
They ain't scarcely no way to get it. But
Irish he's makin' boxes for fellers who's
got some money, to send home to their folks,
and he's holdin' bosses and all such as that.

Eveirbody that comes drivin' up, Irish he
says : Won't you please lemme hold your
boss. Oh, go on, lemme, please."

Pretty often they let him. He's so pleadin'
and peaked lookin'. Irish he ain't lookin'
good — he's jest like a sick feller. They
looks at him and they says : " Poh boy,
poh boy, what's the matter with you ? "

Irish say, "Oh, nothing much. I jest
ain't feelin' good." He knows if he says
whaf s the matter with him, he won't get a
chance to hold no more.

Then they used to be some fellers come out
there from the city — awful rich fellers. They
stops and throws out pennies on the ground,
and the school fellers, they jumps over the
picket fence and fights for 'em. Irish he
used to set there waitin' for 'em. When
those rich fellers come along, he say :
" Ain't you goin' to feed the chickens to-day ? "
(That's what they called it — ^feedin' the
chickens.) " Oh, please. Mister, go on. Please
do."

Then the rich fellers they laughs, and
throws 'em out some pennies, and the fellers
all scratch fob 'em — fightin' jest like cats
and dogs. Irish, he always gets some. Yes,
sah, he always does.

AH the time Irish he's savin', savin'.
And all the time he's lookin' sicker and
sicker. That Boss, he's breakin' him all
right, he certainly is. He's cussin' him all
the time, and he's smashin' him and he's put-
tin' him onto bread and water, sometimes
fob two or three days — punishin' him fob
things he ain't never done. When he comes
out, sometimes he's kind of tottery on his
legs. That Boss he laugh. He say: "Ain't
feelin' so funny as you was, is yer?"

Irish he ain't sayin' a word ; he ain't al-

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345

lowin' he's broke yet. But he ain't feel-
in' very strong. Sometimes when Boss hits
him, he falls right over. The Boss he's hit-
'tin' other fellers, too. Only not lake he is
him.

By and by — after long time — Irish he's
got sixty-seven cents. Don' seem lake he
ever can get as mnch's he wants. He's
f eelin' mighty blue. It's considerable trou-
ble keepin' money there, too. Oh, they stealin'

all the time out

there. There's
one feller, named
Hen' Vestry — he's
regular thief —
gef s up at night
and goes feelin',
feelin' round you
clothes. You
can't keep nothin'.
'Tain't no good to
him, neither. He
ain't in fust or
second grade — ^he
can't go outside
the yard to spend
it. He jest can't
help it. Byandby
one feller comes
to Irish: "Say,
make me a box;
Fll give you twen-
ty-five cents."

Irish tickled to
death ; he makes
the box right
away. Then he

g^ts his money,
e never was so
glad. He's whis-
tlin' and singin'
to himself. He's
goin' nextevenin'.
The fellers is
sniggin' bread and
meat from dinner
so's he can have
somethin' to eat.

Then Mike Finnegan
That very next momin'

and by and by, he find a little hard bunch.
Oh, he always finds it ; I dunno how 'tis — he
always does. But this time when they all
Stan's up, he don't have to do it. Mike Fin-
negan, he say : " I know who stole that
money?"

"Who did?"

"That feller" — pointin' at Irish — "I
wakes up in the night and sees him." (He
knows Irish has got some money.)

Then Boss he

AND he's HOLDIN' H0SSE3 AND ALL SUCH AS THAT."

gets back at him.
a feller wakes up.
" Who's stole my quarter ? " Yes, sah, some-
body's been stealin' from him.

Then the Boss he say: "Who stole that
feller's money?"

"I dunno."

Then he always stan' 'em up in a row and
he look through 'em — through all their pock-
ets and the linin' of their coats — lake that —

say, "Come hyar."
Then he look all
through him, and
he finds his
money. " Look
hyar, you, hoVd
you get that
money?"

" I earned it."

"You lie, you
stole it."

Boss say to
feller that lost
his money: "Hyar
you, come get
you quarter."
Then he give it
to him.

"Irish "he say:
*'You stealin'
from me." He's
awful pale and
white.

"You shut up,"
Boss says, smash-
in' him.

Then he say:
" Anybody else
had his money
stole?"

"No, sah."

Then Boss say :
"Guess I'll keep
this here till I
finds where it
come from. Got

Then he looks

any thin' more?" he say.
through the linin' of his coat.

"What's that?"

"'Tain't nothin'."

Then the Boss takes it out. "What's
this?" It's a little round thing — one of
these little lockets — all gold — and inside
there's a piece of kind of yeller hair.

"That's my locket," says Irish. "You
give me that ; you ain't got no right to it.
Give it back to me." ^ t

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A WHITE SHEEP,

"Where'd you get that?"

"I always had it."

" You liar; you stole it before you come
here. Fm goin' to keep it till I finds out
who it belongs to."

Then Irish he fights for it, and the Boss
smashes him. He smashes him awful with
his fist. Irish he falls right over — he's
fainted away.

Boss say : " Get up, there," and he kicks
him with his foot.

Irish he don't move.

" He's dead," says one feller.

The Boss he's scared. He say: "Shut up.
Gro get some water. Hurry up."

But Irish he ain't dead. By and by he
comes to, and they puts him to bed.

Hen' Vestry — that thievin' feller — he's so
tickled, he 'most bust laughin'. The fellers
say : " What you laughin' at? "

" Oh, I dunno. I was 'f raid he'd come and
take my quarter away from me."

" Where'd you get any quarter ? "

" I had it given to me."

" Aw, go on."

They Imows better. Only 'tain't no use to
say nothin'.

I sleeps right close up to Irish that time.
All that night he's kind of cryin' to hhnself.

"Say, Irish," I says, "what's matter?
What's matter?"

" He's gone stole my locket. Now I can'
find my folks, never. Oh, what'U I do ? What'U
I do?"

Next day he say: "Tm goin', anyhow. I
can' Stan' it. I jest got to go, he's killin' me."

The fellers they're runnin' away all the
time them days ; they can' stand it. LfOng
toward night time, when the fellers go in
from the yard, they jest slips behind the door
and stays outside. Then the Boss calls the
names.

"Where's that feller?"

"I dunno."

Um-hum, lu^s gone.

Yes, sah, that evenin' Irish he run away.
All that night they looks foh him. There's a
feller there named Mr. Pox don't do nothin'
else only look foh boys. Oh, he's suah. They
don't get away from him. Fust he telegraph
all round. Then sometimes he goes after
'em ; and sometimes all day long he jest stan'
there by the gate with his spy-glass— jest
lake that— lookin', lookin'. By and by he
sees a little thing 'way off— jest lake a little
pin walkin'. Then they goes and catches the
feller and brings him back. Mr. Pox, he gets
five dollars for every boy he catches — say.

ten boys he gets ten five dollars. Oh, he's
rich.

It don't take him long to find Irish. Next
day he comes bringin' him back. They
catch him on a freight train. He's lookin'
worse'n ever. You wouldn' know him, he looks
so bad. He's all mud and dirt and his clothes
is all torn. He's sick. Boss he don' lick
him much. He don' dare to.

But Irish he don' care. He jest sets
around with his head down, mopin', mopin'.
He's most broke this time. Out there to
school fellers gets that way sometimes —
nothin' ails 'em much; they jest mopin',
mopin' all the time. Then after a while they
don' never get well ; they dies. Irish he's
that way 'most a week. He don' care ; he's
done for anyhow.

But one day he's standin' out in the yard,
and a big carriage drives up and a gran' lady
gets out — all dressed in black. Irish he
wants to hoi' the bosses. He's got used to
holdin' 'em ; he likes it.

Lady say : " Poor boy, poor boy, how sick
you lookin'. What's the matter?"

" Oh, nothin'. I'm all right"

Then she kisses him. Yes, sah, right there.
She's got tears in her eyes. She say: "Poh
boy, ain't you got no home but this?"

"No'm."

She's holding his hand a minute and he's
looking at her. Jest a minute. Then he
runs away in back where nobody's goin' to
see him, and cries some up against side of
building. Nobody ain't nevar kissed out
there to school. Probably it makes Irish
feel mighty queer. He ain't very strong
anyhow.

Some fellow sees him out there. ** Hey,
fellers, come hyar and look at Irish."

Irish he turns roun' mighty quick " You
lemme alone. I'll brej£ you bacK if you
don'.'.'

Lady she's gone inside and seen oV su-
pintenant.

** I los' my little boy last year. He died.
My husband, he's died too. Peoples in
city say maybe they'd be a good boy here
I could take home with me."

or supintenant smile and say: ** Yes'm,
yes'm, yes'm. I'll have 'em brought in;
then you can see 'em foh yourself."

Then he brings 'em all in and stands 'em
all up in a row. The lady she's there. Oh,
she's beautiful —white, jest lake a lily, with
black cloth hangin' down by her face. An'
she's dressed gran', jest lake some of the
ladies in the play. Any feller's mighty lucky
that goes with her, I tell yer. r^ooofp

A WHITE SHEEP.

347

(Si

CT!ARL:i-'L :-,"vt .»!-

'you poh little motherless boy!*"

or supintenant he says to her: *'This
here's our little flock "—he always talks lake
that when they's visitors. " Pretty lively
boys, but pretty good boys, too. Ain't you,
boys?"

'*Yes, sah."

•'Yes, sah."

Then he laughs silly.

* * Th'^y lake it here. They gets good food,
and they's treated first-class. We never
strike our boys. It's 'gainst the rules." He
always talks lake that— kind of sweet-
lake.

Then the lady, she's lookin' all round at
all the boys. She don' seem to find v>aat
she wants.- Then she say: ** Where s that

little boy I saw out in the yard. I don' see
him hyar."

"Who's that, boys?" says ol' supin-
tenant.

** Irish," says two or three fellers.

Irish was 'way in back. They makes a
hole so they can see him, and he comes
out.

** That's the little boy," lady says.

" I don' believe you want that boy," says
ol' supintenant. " He's been a pretty bad
one since he come here."

** That ain't so. I don' never have no
show hyar," says Irish.

The lady's lookin' at him. She seems to
kind o' lake him. She don' take no notice

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A WHITE SHEEP.

of what oV supintenant says — ^jes' lake she
don' hyar him.

** He's got a nice face," she says, kind
of under her breath lake. **Come hyar,
little boy. What's yoh name ? "

**Idunno."

''Yohdunno?"

" No'm ; I was sick. 01' Irish woman had
me. I remember her, but I don' remember
no more. I wasn't her boy, though," he
say, tryin* to stan' up straight.

Lady she's lookin' at him — lookin',
lookin'.

** Don' you remember anything more—
not jest a little teenty bit ? "

*' I dunno. Seems if I kind o' remember
somethin*— a kind o' big house — and a big
clock, higher'n my head — and— a great big
yeller dog — and a lady — seems if — a lady,
with big eyes, kind o' smilin' — somethin'
lake you, she looks — and — and — I guess
that's all."

** Poh boy, poh boy," lady says, '* prob'ly
that's you* mother. Couldn't you never find
her?"

** No'm, maybe she's dead."

** Ain't you got nothin' to remember
by?"

** No'm, not now. I did have my locket
befoh they took it away from me."

** Where is it? Who took it?"

'* He did, that man there. He's got it
now, wearin' it on his watch-chain."

'* Sah, bring that boy's locket hyar."

He brings it over mighty quick. Lady
she looks at it and looks at it. '* Poh boy,"
she say, *'poh boy. Jest nothin' but a
common gold locket, with nothin' in it but
some hair. I'm 'fraid you won't never find
your mother with that."

Then foh a moment they didn't say nothin' ;
she was thinkin'.

Then Irish says, kind of soft lake, lookin'
at her: "I wish you'd been my mother."

Then all at once he can't stan' it; he's
cryin' to her and catching hold of her
hand.

** Oh, don' leave me; please don' leave
me. Take me with you, please do. I'll do
anything foh you, I will. I'll work and slave
and die for you if you wants me to. Only
don' leave me. Jest try me — only once.
You don' have to keep me if you don' want
to. You can sen' me back."

The lady, she's down on her knees in front
of him, sort of crying.

** You pqh little motherless boy I" she
says, **I will take you. It will be better
foh both of us."

Then Irish, he's jes' hanging onto her and
cryin', and they sends us all out of the
room.

When we was goin' out Hen' Vestry, he try
to steal that gol' locket she's dropped there
on the floor. Every feller round kicks him
and punches him and makes him throw it
down again.

Jest right after that they drives out of
there in their gran' carriage. They don'
stop at all. The beautiful lady's in the back
seat, and Irish's sittin' right up close to her
and kind of smilin'. The old supintenant's
standin' in the door-way, and bowin', and
tryin' to look sweet ; and all the boys jest
hoUerin' their heads off. Irish, he's got
through.

Sometimes he comes back after that and
sees us. He's drivin' in a team with the
lady ; or he's ridin' on his boss. He's got
a boss of his own. Oh, he's awful rich feller.
He's good feller, too. He don' forget. He's
done an awful lot for other fellers. Yes,
sah, he has — that's right.

The colored youth's tongue had run down.
His story was done. "He started the big
investigation, didn't he ?" said I.

" Yes, sah, thaf s right ; he was the feller.
Right after that they began investigationin.'
or supintenant and Boss, I guess they're
mighty sorry they licked that feller. TTiey
don' lick no other fellers, they don' ; they
gets right out of there after they've inves-
tigationed 'em. 'Tain't lake it was over
ther' ; no, sah.

" It's mighty different. They got a new
supintenant and new Boss and everythin'."

'* I guess you boys were mighty glad that
fellow was sent to school," said I.

" Yes, sah, we was. It's the best thing
ever happened to that school. They ain't no
doubt 'bout that. You ought to been there
the last time ol' supintenant and Boss went
away."

"Did the boys holler?"

*' Did they holler. Oh, no, I guess not. You
could hear 'em most a mile, I bet yer. Yes,
sah — more'n that — ten timep more."

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.--s t

**ne . . . noip. peacffuUy at aurhor,
the beautiful rra/t afemingly aleeping upon
the water* of the bay."

A PIRATE AND A PRINCESS.

By Frederic Van Rensselaer Dey.

THERE can be nothing more pleasing to
the eye than the spectacle of a modern
steam yacht lying at anchor off a wooded
shore, lazily rising and falling upon the gen-
tle swell that finds its way in from the end-
less stretch of ocean beyond. About such
a vessel there is a touch of romance, and an
individuality which, in one aspect at least,
is overawing. It is as though the men

grouped upon her decks were mere incidents
in her career, as if the yacht were the thing
of life, the mental process, the power and
the intelligence, and her crew the mechan-
ism which she directs. Even a landsman
feels the indefinable influence which she ex-
erts, but to a man who loves the sea, and
who has passed all the years of his life be-
neath the scepter of Neptune, it is at once

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350

A PIRATE AND A PBINCESS.

seductive, inspiring, and overwhelming. Un-
less your life has been passed upon the sur-
face of the deep, unless you have battled
with the elements which have their lair in
mid-ocean, and have struggled, sometimes
vainly, against a *'six" or ''eight" gale
mercilessly forcing you upon the rocky bat-
tlements of a lee shore, you can never feel
this indescribable thrill. How it quickens
the pulse and warms the cockles of the heart
to look down upon such a scene, suddenly
and unexpectedly presented to view, after
deliberately having forsworn all participa-
. tion in the life of a sailor, and having volun-
tarily adopted a new career !

Craddock drew a deep breath and muttered
something very much like an oath when he
appeared upon the top of the rocky promon-
tory and saw, peacefully at anchor, the beau-
tiful craft seemingly sleeping upon the
waters of the bay.

The sun, just risen, smiled complacently
upon the scene; and from where Craddock
stood there was not visible another sign of
life than the yacht itself. She might have
dropped from the clouds or have risen out
of the depths of the ocean, for when the
sun went down she was not there ; with the
birth of a new day she appeared to have
been there always.

While he looked, shading his eyes with
his hands, a white-clad figure issued from
the companionway, and after sweeping the
face of the bluff with a glass, waved a cap
to the man on the shore. The greeting was
returned with manifest eagerness; and a
moment later, as if invoked by some un-
known magic, other forms appeared upon
the deck of the vessel, the port davits were
swung away, a boat was lowered, and the
man with the binoculars, having taken his
place in the stem, was propelled rapidly to-
ward the base of the bluff, upon the summit
of which stood the motionless figure shading
his eyes with his hand.

As the small boat came nearer, he turned
and gazed backward along the path by which
he had approached the bluff, until bis eyes
rested upon the outlines of a house half-hid-
den among the trees, where the noise of the
surf could only reach it in murmurs. He
sighed deeply, hesitated a moment more,
and then turned again and plunged down the
precipitous path which led to the shore of
the bay at the point where the boat must
touch. They arrived at the spot simultane-
ously. The man with the binoculars leaped
ashore — a Hercules in physique, a moun-
tain lion in litheness and grace of action.

a tawny-haired, tawny-bearded Thor in as-
pect, and stretching out both arms, seized
Craddock's hands in a strong, relentless
grasp.

For a moment neither man uttered a word.
They looked into each other's eyes, shook
hands again and again, and then stepped
away from each other silently.

** You received my letter, Craddock?"
asked the yachtsman presently.

** Yes; more than a week ago."

** I may count upon you ? "

Craddock shrugged his shoulders, but made
no reply.

'* Shall we go to your house, or "

"No; not there," interrupted Craddock
with a quick gesture of dissent.

**To the yacht, then. You shall break-
fast with me."

'* I have sworn "

'*D— n your swearing, Craddock! It
is not going to sea to board the ' Car-
lotta.' "

'* You have named her that ? "

'* Yes— but she bears a false name for
the present. That you shall hear when we
are alone in the cabin. VamonoSy amiqo!
All aboard ! Ready, lads ! Away with yoa !
Egad, old fellow, doesn't this reanimate the
dead corpuscles in your sluggish blood ?
What is there in that solitary life of yours
to compare with this ? There is a flush upon
your cheeks already ; there is a new light in
your eyes; your nostrils dilate, even now;
the war-horse hears the bugle sound the
charge; the son of Neptune listens to the
wind whistling in the shrouds and feels the
breathing of the ocean's lungs. Here we
are! Up with you, Craddock — up and in;
but stop ! Look forward, and then look aft.
Experience once more the sensation of being
a king, a monarch, an emperor, a god. Rest
your nautical eye upon those sticks. Aren't
they beauties ? Did you ever see a rake like
that, even in the old days of wind-jamming ?
Could a battle-ship or a cruiser be more
perfectly appointed ? Is there a shroud
or a stay or a thing that you can criti-
cise ? Look at that low, wide funnel. Com-
pound, triple-expansion engines, Crad. Twin
screws, everything the l^st; nothing that
floats can catch her. Come ! "

He seized his friend by one arm and led
him to the cabin, and a moment later they
sat facing each other, half buried in huge
leather chairs, with a steaming pot of fra-
grant coffee between them.

For several moments the yachtsman silently
regarded his friend, who was feasting his
-^—-^ " — O

A PIRATE AND A PRINCESS,

351

eyes upon a vision that he loved more dearly
than all else in the world— the luxurious cabin
of a perfectly appointed yacht.

*' Do you like the picture ? " he inquired
presently. *' Is there anything that can im-
prove it ? My fortune is here. My home
is here. I shall never live ashore again.
This yacht is my sweetheart, my wife, my
world, unless — ! If she goes to the bottom,
I go with her, with everything I possess.

'*It is piracy, Ralph, no more, no
Besides, I cannot go, anyhow."

The handsome face of the yachtsman be-
came sullen, and he pulled at his tawny beard
with a savage energy that threatened its
destruction.

" You did not read all my letter," he said,
finally.

" I read it through to the end, many
times."

f-r.

^IT 13 PntACT, RALPH, NO MORE, NO LE9S.

I CANNOT 00."

Now, Craddock, tell me — you are going with
me on this cruise ?"

•'No."

•*Crad!"

** I cannot go."

''Why?"

" It is piracy."

"Legally, you are correct," replied the
yachtsman, after a pause, and his voice was
low and calm; "but by every moral law,
human and divine, the cause is just, and
honorable, and right."

" Then you know the fate of Carlotta if
I do not carry out my purpose."

"Yes."

" And you still refuse to go, even though,
against her will, they will wed her to an-,
other?"

" I still refuse to go."

" Let me repeat the story in words. Let-
ters are cold things at their best."

"It is useless, Ralph. Was I not with
you when you met this woman for whom you
would now sacrifice so much ? I warned you

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'TOU HAVE DARED TO 00MB TO MB, PAST ALL BARRIBBS . .

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A PIRATE AND A PRINCESS.

353

then, I have warned you since, I warn you
again, now. If in making this sacrifice
there existed one chance of success, heaven
knows I wonld not hold you back from the
enterprise, even if the lifting of one little
finger wodd accomplish it. But there is no
chance of success — not one. There is noth-
ing but death— dishonorable death, presum-
ably at the end of a rope dangling from a
yard-arm for you, and eternal disgrace for
her."

Craddock rose from his chair and with his
hands behind him strode several times the
length of the cabin. Then he resumed his
seat and continued : " Can nothing deter you
from this step, old friend ? Let us review
it for a moment. We were boys together.
We went to sea together. Together we
made our fortunes at the very moment when
the world seemed darkest. During twenty-
seven years we were never apart, except for
a few hours at a time. We were ten when
we met, thirty-seven when we separated
four years ago. Twenty years of toil, seven
years of adventure, and four years of con-
templative quiet surely should have brought
us wisdom. If you saw me about to embark
in an eutt;i^^rise wh>.h you knew would end
in my undoing, would you not endeavor to
hold me back from it ? Would you not re-
fuse to enter upon it with me, even if you
were differently situated from the way that
I am now ? Because it was your ill-fortune
to save the life of a princess — the daughter
of a king— is it logical that you should de-
liberately sacrifice your life and honor, and
hers also, to the love that was bom to both
of you by that event ? Where, if this Uto-
pian scheme of yours should succeed to the
point of capturing this vessel upon which
she is to be a passenger — ^where, pray, do
you propose to hide ? Where, in all the
wide world, will you find a haven where you
dare even hope to escape capture ? Aboard
this yacht? The combined navies of the
world will pursue you. There is no far cor-
ner of land or sea where you will be secure."

" You forget "

** I do not forget — Empire Island — our
island, where we were wrecked, and where
we lived in solitude nearly three years — is
12,000 miles away. You could not sail one-
tenth part of the distance without capture
— and, besides, you cannot go there. Your
oath to me binds you not to do so. We
mutually agreed never to return to that
spot, unless in company, or with the ex-
press permission of the absent one. I will
m>t go with you, and I refuse the permis-

sion. You will not break your word to me;
therefore you cannot go there, even if it
were otherwise possible. Hush ! You need
not speak ! I know that you are angry. Do
not utter now words which you will regret
later; but I would rather live the remainder
of my life under the ban of your undimin-
ished rage, than to relax one single effort
that I can make to turn you aside from this
awful venture that you contemplate. You
are a madman to undertake it; you were
mad when you conceived it; you will be
hanged as a felon before you can half con-
summate it.

'* And for what, and for whom do you
undertake it?" Craddock continued, with
more excitement than he had shown hith-
erto, rising from his chaif and again pacing
the cabin deck. " For a woman whom you
never saw but once in your life, in whose
company you have passed less than five hours
out of the forty-one years of your existence.
For a woman who is related to every crowned
head in Europe, whose portrait is familiar
to every reader in the world, whose disap-
pearance would arouse every human energy
on earth and sea to effect her recapture and
your destruction. You tell me in your letter
that you have been planning this enterprise
three years; if you had consumed 300 years
in the work, it could offer no hope of suc-
cess. She sails on the royal yacht on such
a date, bound so-and-so ; well, all the world
knows that. You will pursue, and if per-
chance there is a storm, or an accident, or
if God or the Devil intervenes in some in-
conceivable way, you will attack the yacht
in the open sea, seize your prize, and sail
away, confident that nothing that floats can
outsail you. What, in heaven's name, will
the two cruisers which accompany the yacht
be doing while this piratical outrage is
going on ? Eight and ten-inch shells travel
faster than this floating palace of yours.

'* Again, if neither God nor the Devil in-
terferes to assist you in this plan, you believe
that you will find your opportunity in the
Mediterranean when the yacht is at anchor
and the royal party is resting. Bah ! Don't
you know that the cruiser-consorts will lie
either side of her, and aren't you sailor
enough to know that you will have no more
chance of getting within hail of the vessel
you would attack, without being fired upon,
than you would have of capturing the ' Ore-
gon ' in an open fight with this puny craft ?
Are you mad, Ralph ? I know you are in
earnest, but have you lost all reason ? "

** Have you quite finished, Craddock ? '*

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A PIRATE AND A PRINCESS,

asked the yachtsman calmly. There was
not a trace of anger left upon his face ; in-
deed, he was smiling now.

** Yes," was the short reply.

** Shall I order breakfast served ? "

** No. Send me ashore."

** Very good. But another question, first.
Do you still refuse me permission to visit
Empire Island without you ? "

'* Yes. I still refuse; now, and forever,
unless you give up this enterprise."

"What was the promise we made each
other ? Will you state it for me ? I may
have forgotten the exact wording."

** The agreement was that neither of us
should ever visit the island again, during
the life of the other, except in each other's
company, or with the express permission of
the absent one. It is clear enough."

" Quite so. Thank you. Will you not
breakfast with me now ? "

** No. I will go ashore. You need not
accompany me to the deck. Shake hands,
and let us part here."

** It is my turn to refuse, Craddock.
When we meet again, if we ever do, I will
offer you my hand. You may not feel dis-
posed to take it. It is better, therefore,
that you should leave it untouched now. I
will go with you to the deck. I will not
sail till some time in the night. If you
change your mind, come ofl^ to me. To-
morrow morning I will have gone."

Thor — we will call him so, after the Nor-
wegian god he so greatly resembled, for he
must be nameless here — leaned idly against
the taffrail and watched the figure of his de-
parting friend until he had scaled the cliff
and, with a last wave of his hand, disap-
peared beyond it. There was a strange
smile, half sad, half mocking, upon his de-
termined features, which in every line gave
evidence of unfaltering courage and relent-
less purpose.

'* Too bad, Craddock," be murmured, still
with his eyes fixed upon the point where his
friend had disappeared. " I cannot visit
Empire Island without you ; therefore I must
take you with me. There is nothing in the
promise which says that either may not take
the other by force ; ergo, you must accom-
pany me. Craddock, my friend, we sail to-
night—and we sail together."

The night was cloudy, with here and there
a star peeping out, and there was a number
two breeze jostling among the leaves of the
trees above the bluff. Two bells had just
sounded on board the yacht, and nine o'clock

had just struck in the house where Craddock
lived, when he heard a summons at the door.
He sprang toward it quickly, believing that
his friend had thought better of his mad
venture. He threw it open. A dozen forms
leaped into the wide hallway. He was seized,
and in a moment bound ; and all the while
Thor stood, with folded arms, idly leaning
against one of the pillars of the portico.

*' I cannot force permission from you,
Craddock," he said, when the deed was done,
'* but I can compel you to accompany me.
Is there anything that you would have me
do before we go aboard ? "

' * Yes. My motherless child and the nurse
must accompany me."

Two hours later the yacht had sailed.

Craddock imperturbably resigned himself
to the inevitable. During the days which
followed, while the yacht was coursing like
a meteor toward the European coast, he
gave no outward sign of the indignation he
felt, other than totally to ignore the exist-
ence of Thor; and Thor chose not to see
that he was ignored. His high spirits and
boundless enthusiasm were unquenchable,
and he seemed not to notice that his run-
ning fire of talk was never commented upon
nor answered.

The voyage across the ocean was unevent-
ful. The yacht slipped through the Ehiglish
Channel into the North Sea, and glided rap-
idly onward toward her first anchorage,
which must not be named ; and there came
a day, approximately two weeks after the
American coast was lost to view, when she
glided to her moorings not three cable-
lengths from the royal craft upon which the
princess was soon to embark. Thor's great
stature seemed taller than ever then. His
eyes — colored like the water in the Gulf of
Salerno with the sun at meridian — shone
brighter and with greater steadfastness.
There was a constant smile about his mouth,
and his brows wore the half-frown of con-
centrated thought. He placed no guard
whatever upon the actions of his friend, but
two sailors were ever at the side of Crad-
dock's child and nurse when they loitered
upon the deck. Craddock, watching him
furtively, wondered if he contemplated mak-
ing the assault there, in the presence of the
fleet and with the narrow neck of water be-
tween two forts bristling with guns as the
only avenue of escape. Such an attempt on
the part of Thor would not have surprised
him.

But the Titan made no sign. Calmness
and complacency seemed adjuncts of his or-

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A PIRATE AND A PRINCESS.

355

fanism. He always smiled ; he perpetually
frowned. His deep voice, like the mellow
tone of an organ, was never unsteady; and
on the fifth day after their arrival they put
to sea again.

'' We are bound out, Craddock," he said,
in one of those one-sided conferences often
held, wherein the American listened without
comment, and the Norwegian talked without
compensation. ^^The royal party sails at
dawn to-morrow. We will precede them
through the channel and down the coast;
and then — what then, amigo? Quien saJbef
Shall I put you ashore, my friend, or will you
see it out, now that you are embarked ? ''

"Did you see her, Crad?" he asked
later. ** Did you see her when she went
aboard with her suite ? High heaven, what
beauty! What majesty! What infinite ten-
derness and love! Ah! If you had been
with me on the quay! If you could have
seen the start of surprise that she gave
when she saw me — the roses that bloomed
all in an instant upon her cheeks. The flush,
the smile, the frown, the pathetic entreaty,
the defiance, the undying love, the unalter-
able resolve. I made no sign. She made
none; but her heart is beating now just as
mine beats—like the piston in the high-
pressure cylinder below, with terrific force,
but steady and true — steady and true, Crad;
never quickening or lessening a beat, never
increasing or diminishing its force; steady
and true, Crad; steady and true! You saw
her from the deck, Craddock, with her eyes
shining like the stars in heaven, with her
head eating into the wind like the forefoot
of a clipper ship. You saw her, did you
not? The daughter of a hundred Idngs; the
progeny of forgotten rulers of men; the
acme of every promise of heaven and of
earth ! Crad, can you keep silent now I "

Two hundred and thirty knots, or there-
abouts, off that part of earth where the Bay
of Biscay eats into the coast of France, with
the wind on a hitch between four and five,
combing the tops of the waves into seething
flakes of foam, like goat's milk in the whey,
coursed Thor's masterpiece of mechanism.
Off to starboard, thirteen miles away, the
son dipped moodily, half veiled in cloud. On
the port quarter, six miles astern, was a
white line surmounted by a column of somber
smoke, and beyond and behind it were three
lesser columns issuing from the funnels of
the cruiser-consorts. When the sun dipped
out of sight the wind freshened, and then,
with' a. puff, went out. Craddock played

with his little daughter. Thor rested his
bulk against the port davits and struggled
with his beard — the only evidence of impa-
tience he manifested.

** Neither God nor the Devil will inter-
vene,'' he said at last, approaching Crad-
dock. *' I quote you, my friend, not my
own thought. In the Mediterranean it will
be different." Then he sought his cabin.

There is something uncanny in the dead
cdm of a Mediterranean night, when the
elements are asleep, and earth and skj and
ocean are in repose ; when even the billows
cease their restless undulations, and an-
chored craft lie inanimate. The royal yacht
was one of these.

There was life upon her decks, however.
Here and there a sailor leaned idly against
the bulwark and gazed abstractedly off into
the night. The watch paced its restless
tread fore and aft and athwartships; but
the watch was sleepy-eyed, and yawned as
he walked, for the duty was one simply of
routine. Abeam, on either side, floated two
of the cruiser-consorts; dead astern rested
the third ; sluggish, yawning, half sleeping,
all of them. Beneath the awning, half in
repose, yet keenly alert to every beauty of
the night, flanked by maids and guarded by
marines, though in utter solitude, reclined
the Princess whom we have called Carlotta.

Of the royal party she alone remained
upon the yacht. Why, she could not have
explained, except that the night appealed to
her in a new way; and for some unaccount-
able reason her mind was upon the Titan
form and tawny-bearded face of her rescuer
of long ago. Her glance swung lazily to
seawa^, where a green light hung motion-
less over the waters of the bay, and then
turned shoreward again toward the point
where her friends had disappeared. A haze,
unlike mist but still a haze, mellowed the
softness of the night. Repose, solitude,
peace, memory, were in the air she breathed.

Then, out of the haze, at the point upon
which her eyes were fixed, leaped a shape,
and the heart of the Princess bounded,
paused, fiuttered, and again began its cease-
less counting of the periods in her life, for
with the looming of the shape out of the
haze had come a yodel-song, sharp and clear
and strong. A cry heard once, never to be
forgotten; a cry which she had heard but
once, never to forget. She did not move.
Her maids still whispered together. The
marines remained deaf.

The shape was the launch that had con-
veyed her friends ashore. It flew the pen-
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356

TRUE STORIES FROM THE UNDERWORLD,

nant of its royal owner. It approached un-
challenged. There was a sharp command
from amidships on the yacht. The deck
swarmed with men. The boom was manned,
the steps were lowered. Officers stood at
attention. Marines lined up, presented arms,
and fixed their eyes upon nothing. The
launch had returned ; what mattered it whom
it brought ?

One form only leapt to the deck; Use
majesti was in his demeanor. It was Thor,
grand in his daring, and smiling with that
half -frown of definite purpose.

The Princess rose from her chair calmly
and with deliberation. A quiet word, spoken
in an undertone, relegated her attendants to
a distance. Half-way along the promenade
she encountered her guest, and there she
paused with extended hand, while he dropped
upon one knee, and tenderly clasping the
hand in both his own, pressed it to his
lips.

He would have spoken, but she silenced
him by a gesture, and so they remained for
seconds which seemed hours to both. Then
she spoke.

" You have dared to come to me, past all
barriers," she said, tremulously. ** I can-
not say that I am not glad. Do not speak.
I must not hear the sound of your voice.
My destiny was shaped when the world was
young; defiance cannot alter it. You have
dared all things for the sake of seeing me
again — that I might see you once more. I
must ask even greater courage of you now.
Leave me, my friend, with everything that
you would say unspoken. I must not listen
— but I know. We may not mention love —

but afterward, afterward, when this earthly
destiny is fulfilled, then, my friend, I will
seek you as you have sought me now. Rise.
Rise and go, lest my strength should fail me
in this supreme moment. God be with you !
Rise; do not speak; by your love for me,
by my love for you, leave me ! Do not look
back. I beseech — no, I command! Leave
me! My spirit will accompany you. My
body — it is nothing — it must remain here.
Afterward — yonder — ^in the life to come — I
will seek for you! For the love of God,
leave me!"

Upon the palm of her hand he pressed his
lips, and then, without a word, he left the
deck, dropped into the launch, and disap-
peared in the haze.

The Pillars of Hercules were dipping into
the ocean far astern when Thor sought his
friend on the after deck of the yacht ** Car-
lotta." It was during the middle watch of
the succeeding day. Outwardly he was un-
changed, except that his smile was deeper
and the half-frown had disappeared.

* * The enterprise is abandoned, Craddock, ' '
he said, calmly; ''will you take my hand
now?"

** Gladly, Ralph; in full forgiveness, too."

Thor seemed not to hear, but continued,
dreamily :

** There is little that I can tell you. With
my men I seized the launch and boarded the
yacht. She was there. I saw her. She
gave me her commands and a promise. I
obeyed, and I wait. That is all. Shall we
go to Empire Island now, and rest ? "

*' If you wish it, yes."

TRUE STORIES FROM THE UNDER-WORLD.

By Josiah Flynt and Francis Walton.
I.— IN THE MATTER OF "HIS NIBS."

EIditor's Note. — The following Btory is the first of a series by Josiah Fljrnt and Francis Walton, men
who have spent many years studying the criminal classes. Their methods are original. They live among the
criminals and are known amongst the " profession " as men of their own class. It is needless to say that their
life amongst them is not to break the laws, but to understand as thoroughly as possible the motives and
methods of that great part of the community which they describe as '* The Under- World."* These stories are
not fiction in the ordinary sense ; they are entertaining stories, but more than this they are philosophical
siodiee, about a class concerning which the great mass of people knows nothing, except that they are law-
breakers. All the names in these stories are fictitious, bat the characters are real and the incidents have all
occurred at various times and places. The stories are intended to point a moral as well as adorn a tale.

THERE were two James Disons, one a in the naaghty city of Manhattan and Long
respected citizen of a small city in Island, lliese two gentlemen never met,
New York ; the other was ''one of the boys " though they possessed a metaphysical iden-

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367

tity with each othef and an alternate ex-
istence. When James Dison of the small
city went to the metropolis to purchase
goods, James Dison of the naughty city re-
ceived his letters and answered them, in
particular letters from Mrs. Dison, in reply
to which he insisted, very properly, on his
eagerness to return to the delights of her
society, which demonstrated that, even dur-
ing his absence, his thoughts were with the
community at home. In return for these
courtesies in the metropolis, when James
Dison of the small city returned to his ac-
customed office, it was his practice to sign
and forward to the naughty city certain
checks in payment of bills which his meta-
physical double had contracted ; some of them
for ponderable goods to be delivered in the
'small city, others for imponderable goods
such as the naughty city notoriously affords.

One evening in April, 189-, James Dison
of the naughty city found himself possessed
of a roll of bank-notes, and of a handsome
watch which bore a striking resemblance to
a gift officially and oratorically presented in
February, 189-, by the Chamber of Com-
merce and the Bankers' Association of the
small city to their ** eminent and universally
honored and esteemed fellow-citizen, James
Dison, who by a timely exhibition of public
spirit and self-sacrifice, lamentably rare in
these times of pecuniary ambition and short-
sighted greed, had saved the prosperous
city from a local panic." The roll of bank-
notes, James Dison of the naughty city di-
minished from time to time in the course of
the evening, with the manner and gesture of
never-mind-the-change ; the watch he con-
sulted toward six o'clock in the morning
with an intellectual intensity, and decided,
in a moment of lucidity remarkable under
the circumstances, that he had made '' a
night of it " and would take a Turkish bath,
^i^en he had emerged from the bath and had
breakfasted, he remembered that he had an
appointment in Newark at the hour of ten,
and that the ideal way to go to Newark, at
which it is inconceivable a man should wish
to arrive, is to take the ** trolley." The
conductor, who was an artist in words,
politely requested the motorman to be good
enough to " turn on that juice."

Burke Ryan was a gentleman who took
his fan where he found it, and to whom the
unrverse owed a living. A certain portion of
his fon he found in the naughtier delights of
the naughty city, but he had received a good
education and read Tacitus and Livy in the
' and was a connoisseur in

scarf-pins. In the intervals of his pleasures
he collected what the universe owed him;
and if he discovered it in the pockets of
other people, so much the worse — ^for the
other people : a man has a right to his own.

At the time when James Dison was mak-
ing a night of it, Burke Ryan saw his watch-
chain and surmised his watch, and took stock
of his roll of bills and of his manner and ges-
ture of never-mind-the-change. He also rec-
ognized that by a singular exUbitionof astute-
ness he had himself that day at the races lost
the largest odds it was mathematically pos-
sible to lose, and that it was '^ up to him "
to cut and cash with all possible promptitude
a number of the coupons on the securities
to which his creditor, the universe, had given
him a right. One of the coupons that was
obviously due lay for safe-keeping at the
end of Dison's watch-chain in Diison's waist-
coat pocket. He had discovered this fact
at the moment when Dison had returned
his watch to its resting-place after having
consulted it with an intellectual intensity.
Dison's manner of handing out his bills
Burke had looked upon with a near approach
to moral indignation ; there was an offensive
lack of principle in throwing away money
that the universe owed to some one else.

When Dison entered the bath-house Burke
also entered it. He had not wanted a Turk-
ish bath, but he took one out of complaisance :
what he wanted really was to ** touch " the
little sum which was coming to him, and to
go to bed. When Dison lingered at break-
fast, he also lingered at breakfast, though
with a growing impatience at the prolix
etiquette of modem times. Not so many hun-
dreds of years ago a baron of the Under-
world in his position would have taken
shame to himself: he would have advanced
upon Dison openly, and tapping him famil-
iarly on the breast, would have explained
that he had taken a fancy to certain insig-
nificant trinkets, of which he doubted not
their actual possessor, whose attention as a
man of taste he claimed for a glance at the
elegance of his stiletto, would be delighted
to make him a present. When Dison en-
tered the trolley-car in Jersey City, Burke
also entered it and took a place beside him.
He had been seemingly much chagrined at
not having found it possible to obtain a place
beside him on the '' elevated " or the ferry;
for his own part, he had no business in New-
ark whatever. When Dison slept, his watch
transferred itself to Burke's waistcoat;
when Dison woke he discovered in his trou-
sers pocket the two longest and deftest

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TRUE STORIES FROM THE UNDER-WORLD.

fingers of Burke's right hand. Burke was
at once so obliging as to withdraw the
fingers and with them the remnant of Dison's
roll of bills. Then the etiquette of modern
times ceased to be prolix, and the scene was
as mediaeval as Burke could have wished.

Dison seized Burke by the shoulder and
spoke his mind with a mediaeval vigor and
idiom which it would be an anachronism to
record. There were two women and twenty
men in the car ; the two women expressed
the judgment of their sex upon the situation
inarticulately at the top of their voices ; the
twenty men with one
impulse lurched to-
ward Burke. Burke
possessed no stiletto
to the elegance of
which he could call
Dison's attention as
a connoisseur, but
he produced a re-
markably handsome
razor, to the ele-
gance of which he
called Dison's atten-
tion and the atten-
tion of every one in
the car. Every
one, Dison in par-
ticular, evinced a
sudden interest in
reaching the street.
They fell over them-
selves in their eager-
ness, the women
forgot even to
scream, and one of
them forgot the way
to the door and used

the window. The facetious conductor said
the reason he got off was that he wanted to
see what Burke's razor would look like from
a distance. The last to desert his place was
the molorman, whom Burke's approach
seemed to afilict with acute insanity. As a
preliminary to jumping off he turned on the
full current, and when the car bounded for-
ward at full speed he leaped. He did not
wait to hold by the handles and steady him-
self before his feel touched the ground ; he
just naturally got off and did gymnastics.
When he was picked up afterward he ex-
plained that he had been in a hurry.

**Stop thief," yelled the chorus in the
road.

" Go to—" grinned Burke.

** Find a telephone," said one of the
crowd, while another called on a man on a

bicycle to ** catch thaf car," and explained
that there was a thief on it. When they
explained also the nature of the thief and of
his company, the bicyclist guessed he was
tired, and that they might catch the car
themselves. '* If any of you gentlemen
wants the loan of my wheel, he can have
it," he said generously; "but for me, to-
day's Friday: it's always bad luck for me
to catch stolen trolleys on Friday." None
of the gentlemen wanted the loan of his
wheel.
None of them wanted to risk a pistol-shot
by riding forward
and attempting to
keep Burke within
hailing distance. The
car was speeding
along a stretch of
deserted road, with
the first house by
the wayside a half-
mile away. Every
one preferred to as-
sure every one else
that Burke must
leave the trolley
soon, for he would
overtake the car
ahead of him ; though
what difference it
made, when once he
was out of sight,
whether he left the
trolley soon or not,
nobody could sug-
gest.

He did leave the
trolley soon. In front
of the one house vis-
ible stood a horse and buggy, which he
halted the car to borrow, saying that he
needed them in his business. A minute
afterward he had disappeared.

In the meantime James Dison discovered
that he had lost his watch.

It was distinctly understood in the" Front
Office " that the ** force " is the servant of
the public, and that every member of the
public, whether a big man or a little one,
was entitled to receive the best atten-^
tion the force could give. It was distinctly
understood also that this theory was in the
nature of a party platform or declaration of
principles, and was well enough in its place,
but that its place was not in practice. In
practice there are differences to be observed.
The chief had found it necessary to become

Jam€9 Dhon.

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359

well-to-do on his savings from a small sal-
ary, and he had achieved this seeming mir-^
acle by exercising the virtues of judicious
discrimination and friendship. He had never
soiled his hands with bribes — he had ** never
done nothing not morally right, savvy ? " —
but it was undeniable that he had discre-
tionary powers and undeniable that he used
them. As nobody will suppose that he used
them to comfort his enemies and to discomfit
his friends, it must be found natural that he
received a just return for benefits bestowed.
When James Dison of the naughty city
discovered that he
had lost his watch,
the first step he took
in regard to it was
admirable. The first
step, to be Irish, was
to stand still and
meditate on what his
metaphysical double
should say to Mrs.
Dison; in particular
if the affair should
reach the news-
papers, and the om-
niscient reporter
should employ his in- ^
alienable right of
pertinent scandal. He
c^ould see the head-
lines as he stood
there. He had an ex-
quisitely tender sen-
sibility for what
concerned his double;
he felt for him as
for himself. He es-
caped with all pos-
sible haste from the
witnesses of his mis-
chance and declined Burke Ryan.

to give his name. His

second step was to seek out the '' Front
Office " and obtain a private interview with
the chief ; and here for a moment he made a
blunder. He had the temerity to demand a
favor before he had founded its indispensable
basis in friendship. The chief paused in the
midst of his scrutiny of a pile of documents,
and official business was suspended every-
where within earshot, and Mr. Dison listened
to the voice of authority. The chief was a
man of wrath, and his speech was rude and
his figures of rhetoric unconventional . ' ' No,
I will not. You will take your chances like
anybody else. I will keep nothing quiet.
Bhrery dashed iq)-State son of a hay-rick

thinks he can come down here an' play the
goat and go back home and forgit it. If
my town's tough, it's you hoosiers that come
down here an' tium yourselves loose an' make
it so ; and it's me the newspapers roast."

At this point James Dison of the naughty
city was inspired to remember that James
Dison of the small city owned a block of
delegates at the State capital, and was high
in the good graces of a Great Personage.
He recited his titles to respect and men-
tioned the Great Personage.

** I don't care who you are, or who you
know, ' ' thundered the
Olympian, in a passion
of rectitude that made

him superior to gram-
mar. ^* I don't owe

you money nor any-
body else. You can
go tell him so. I'm
not put here to do
favors; I'm put here
to execute the law,
and you bet your life
rndoit!"

This was diplo-
macy. There are
forms of speech in
the Great Republic
which it needs a long
initiation to interpret,
and James Dison was
initiated. The chief
had the most exalted
friendship for the
Great Personage
whom Mr. Dison had
named. It was the
custom of that Great
Personage from time
to time, when he suf-
fered with the spleen,
to speak his mind to
the chief with an unreserve which made the
chief's eyes water — with affection. When
Mr. Dison had withdrawn from the Front
Office, the chief made the telephone wires
hum with hurry-up summonses to trusted
lieutenants whose names suggested that
gifted people that can govern every country
except their own. When Mr. Dison returned
with his credentials, his reception reminded
him that Mr. Dison of the small city was
not the only man in the naughty city who is
blessed with a metaphysical double.

" Have already moved in that matter of
yours, Mr. Dison. An accident that might
happen to any gentleman."

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TRUE STORIES FROM THE UNDERWORLD,

** Even to an up-State son of a hay-rick,"
said the facetious Dison.

^* I will have your property delivered to
you at nine in the morning at your hotel,"
said the chief; ''and in the meantime, if
there are any little corners of the city that
you would like to look into, I shall be glad
to place a competent guide at your dis-
posal."

** A pleasure to have made your acquaint-
ance," said Mr. Dison, accepting the glad
hand.

This also was diplomacy: the rest was
business. The chief's face and bearing when
he met his lieuten-
ants were a hurry-up
order personified.
He named a 'dozen
powers and poten-
tates by their noms
de gverrey and indi-
cated their custo-
mary places of
resort. His instruc-
tionswere figurative :
**Rake this town
with a fine -tooth
comb. I want 'em
here by one o'clock.
If they don't under-
stand kindness, pinch
'em."

There is a wireless
telegraphy in the
Under-World which
is quite as effective
as Marconi's, and it
was soon noised
about among the
** guns" that there

was to be a round-up at the Front Office.
A number of gentlemen who felt a delicacy
about intruding upon the chief, even in the
way of friendship, incontinently made them-
selves invisible; but the majority of those
that he had mentioned were '' copped out."
The detectives were as much in the dark
as to what ** was doing " as were the guns,
and the latter conso&d themselves with
facetious remarks as to the object of the
approaching interview. * * The chief wants t'
ask us to break a bottle o' sham, or to notify
us that he has shifted the dead line further
down town, so's to give the likes o' us a
chanst to turn an 'onest penny, ' ' said Billy the
Bruiser; and MeKlowd remarked : ** P'raps
he is goin' to let us rubber over the recov-
ered ' stolen goods ' museum to see if we
recognize any little trinkets o' our own."

> y

The Chief.

The interview took place in the chief's
private office.

'' Curly," he asked in confidential tones,
addressing the man from 'Frisco, '' what do
you know 'bout that touch that came off
over in Jersey this morning on the trolley ?
Somebody got a gold thimble [watch] and a
roll o' dough."

** First I've heard of it, Chief. I don't
know nothin'." •

'' It's up to you, MeKlowd."
'' I'm dead about it too. Chief. Just got out
a-bed a little while before Curry found me."
'* How about you, Billy?"

"Dead too.
Keeps me busy keep-
in' track o' touches
this side the river."
''Well, a touch
came off, an' I want
the thing cleared up.
I'll give it to you
fellows straight —
the touch never
should 'a' come off,
an' it's up to me
to get the gun an'
the things. I've got
you up here to read
the riot act to you,
an' you'd better read
it to the rest o' the
gang. I've been
easy on some o' you
men, 'cause I know
't you've got fam-
ilies here an' want
to stay with them,
but rU tell you on
the level that if you
don't cough up that gun I'll put a dead line
around this whole town. Now, you can take
your choice. That's all I've got to say to
you, but I want you, MeKlowd, to wait a
shake."

The consultation with MeKlowd was short
but significant.

" Ruderick, I might as well give you the
truth as a steer. The sucker that was
touched is a friend o' his Nibs — you know
who I mean — an' his Nibs is hostile. It's
the second time 't he's had a grouch on, an'
I've got to put up a good front. If the

thing don't go right, I'll be in a of

a hole, an' I want to know if you'll pull
it through. I can't get that gun inside
of a month if you blokes don't help me,
an' I've kept the sucker here in town
on the plea that it'll all be over in a

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361

day or so. Will you get the push to cough
up?"

" Anythin' doin' afterward ? "

'' I can't make no deal with you» Ruderick
— you know well enough I been pretty square
with you an' the push, ain't I ? Well, it
stands to i^eason 't I ain't going to get a
grouch on if you an' the push do me a favor,
don't it?"

** A' right. Forty-eight hours you said,
didn't you ? If it's only twenty-four you
won't object, I suppose."

*' It'll make my rep' all the better if it's
only twelve."

'* A' right. So
long.". ^

**So long, Ruder-
ick."

Ruderick MeKlowd
was a product of the
city of tall buildings
and tall talk — the
''Western Metrol-
opis" he sometimes
called it, and some-
times ''Chi." His
passion for the town
was only less pro- -^
nounced than his pas-
sion for his profession,
and he had arrived a(
that stage in his devel-
opment when the name
of his birthplace had
been incorporated in
his personal appella-
tion, after the manner
of powers and poten-
tates and nobility in general. He was known
to the initiated as the " Slick Chi Gun."

His business engagements were so far-
reaching that it was but infrequently that
he was to be met in the city of his name,
and there were periods when, on account of
another community's interest in him and de-
mand upon his time, he was compelled to
deny the town the honor of his presence for
years at a stretch; but he always spoke
affectionately of the place, and it was a well-
understood ambition of his to be buried " on
de Lake Front." In appearance he would
not necessarily have been picked out for an
inhabitant of Chicago. He had, to be sure,
the Chicagobusiness man's plunging walk. He
was always in a hurry, and his abUity to in^
terest other people and other people's money
in his enterprises may possibly also be char-
acterized as a Chicago trait ; but in other re*

.">-..

Ruderick JicKloud.

spects heitted into the life of New York or
any other great city, with as few rough
edges to be polished off as probably any man
of his temperament and training. An inno-
cent little histrionic gift that he possessed
— and exercised — commonly enabled him to
pass with a casual acquaintance for almost
anything, from a successful lawyer to a sea
captain. But there were those in whose
presence he frankly admitted thai he was
" Ruderick MeKlowd, and what are you
going to do about it ? " He was some five-
and-forty years old, tall, well built, clean
shaven, with a look in
his face which was de-
scribed by knowing
ones as the obvious
" mug of a crook."
By those who did not
know, it might easily
have seemed the in-
tense look of a preoc-
cupied and rather hard
man of affairs. When
on the loaf, he saun-
tered through the
streets unobtrusively,
sometimes greeting his
friends and some-
times not taking in
the sights. Certain
wiseacres claimed that
he was "rubbering,"
and attention was
sometimes called to
" that greedy look of
his eyes'"; but this
could not have been
proved in a court of
law. If he passed a friend whom he found it
convenient not to recognize after the ordinary
forms of greeting, he gave a peculiar guttu-
ral cough, sometimes called the thiefs cough,
or made a noise with his lips such as goes with
a kiss, and it was frequently his misfortune to
have these signs misinterpreted by denizens of
the Front Office ; but he had very convincing
explanatory powers, and seldom found it diffi-
cult to square misunderstandings to the sat-
isfaction of all concerned. On occasions,
particularly if he had been " hitting it up,"
he made no attempt to explain or to excuse,
and suggested that the FYont Office '' come
out an' get its face put in." He was almost
as popular at the Front Office as he wamn
his " push." From the strict Sabbatarian's
point of view his record there was bad, but
there were some things esoterically to his
credit, which the Sabbatarian does not under-

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stand. The chief himself had more than
once declared that ''if Ruderick had only
had an * eddication/ he would have ranked
among the salubrious men of history." It
was the opinion of Ruderick's intimates that
he had made a mark enviably high without
taking his Doctor's degree, but, of course,
they judged him by a standard of their own.
The chief's liking for Ruderick was appre-
ciated and respected. In the days when the
chief had been struggling for honor and pro-
motion '' in the street/' it fell to his lot to
arrest certain '' gentlemen of fortune " who
protested vi et armis, which is hieroglyphic
for with knife and fist. The chief might
never have come out of the scrimmage alive
if Ruderick hadn't ** happened around"
about that time. The chief, to his credit
be it said, never forgot this coinci-
dence.

It has been stated on very good authority
that if the thieves of a town could be per-
suaded to become its policemen and would
act ** on the level," the appropriations for
municipal defense might be very greatly re-
duced. Certain it is that they have a sense
of the thing necessary to be done, a theft
having been committed, which our municipal
and private detective organizations have
failed to improve upon.

"How much time we got, Ruderick?"
asked Billy the Bruiser.

** Twenty-four hours."

** He jus' wants the thimble an' the roll,
ain't that it?"

" No, he wants the gun, too. His Nibs
is hostile, you see, an' tlds yap from the
country's got pull, an' it's up to the chief
to make a splurge."

'*WiU he let the bloke go?"

** Didn't say nothin' 'l»ut that. P'raps
he will after he's let the yap rubber at him.

I don't give a whether he does or not.

It was a bunglin' job, an' the fellow deserves
a stretcher. Besides, see all the trouble
he's givin' us. He'll queer the whole of us
if we don't get him."

** That's right," commented Billy. ** No
one man's got any business queerin' the
push. If he has got to take a stretcher,
then he has, an' that's all there is about it.
Same thing happened out in Chi once. Old
'Frisco Slim touched up one o' the big joolry
places, not knowin' that it was in the Eye's
dead line. We had to cough him up— it
'ud been a case o' drill if we hadn't. Well,
I teU you, Ruderick, I'll screw my nut down
town an' rubber around, lettin' the boys
know what's doin'. You'll put the people

up here next, will you ? A' right. Where'll
we report?"

** Up in my rooms."

The two men separated, and began '' put-
ting the boys next." Ruderick dropped
into saloon after saloon, talking quietly with
men sitting at tables or standing at the bar,
and pretty soon these men were to be seen
coming out on to the street and taking dif-
ferent directions. He talked to them in a
language unique for its abbreviations and
directnefis. There were no long explana-
tions. The simple statement, backed up by
Ruderick's presence, " that the Front Office
wanted to laiow who pulled off that touch in
Jersey, and wanted the swag and the gun,"
sufficed to set going an unequaled detective
agency.

There were no silly trips to Jersey to in-
spect "the scene of the crime," no long
interviews with reporters about suggested
clews, and no ** keeping the wires hot."
" Guns " of all ages and conditions strolled
quietly up and down Manhattan, " rubber-
ing," passing the time o' day, and putting
people * * next. ' ' One would enter a * * joint, "
give a cough, and pass on to a rear room,
where he was joined by those whom his
cough had attracted. ** Find out who got
that thimble an' the roll, on the trolley
over in Jersey. The chief is hostile, an'
wants to know. Ru<ferick MeKlowd is on
the case," and another half dozen recruits
were enlisted for the honor of the chief.

A " touch " is to the Under- World what an
Associated Press news item, or " the iimsy,"
is to the newspaper world. Knowledge of it
is common property to those who are in the
guild. There are a hundred " touches" and
more every day of which the police hear
nothing, but the Under-World knows all
about them, who made them, what was real-
ized on them, and where the " get away"
took place. Gossip about " touches " is as
essential to the Under-World as is gossip
about marriages and births to the Upper-
World. Burke Ryan could no more forego
the pleasure of telling his pals about the
** touch " on the trolley in Jersey than he
could resist the temptation to *' pull it off."
He had " hocked" the watch and invested
the greater part of the roll in a quiet little
game of poker by the time Ruderick MeKlowd
and the push were on his trail, and he had
also published widely the details of the theft,
only Ruderick and his companions had not
yet reached the *' joints" where the story
had been told. At the very moment that
Ruderick and Billy the Bruiser were agree-

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363

ing on the campaign to find him, Burke was
in a saloon not over ten blocks distant, tell-
ing some cronies how he had ** to clear the
deck " on the trolley with his razor to make
good his ** get away, '^ and giving them amus-
ing accounts of how the ** Molls dove out o'
the windows" in their haste to give him
room.

** An' the sucker 't Fd touched," he went
on, referring to the naughty Mr. Dison, ** he
jus' sat down an' t'rew a fit. Yelled like a
stuck pig."

Burke had his friends in the push as well as
did Ruderick, and there was one, ** Jimmy "
Ryerson by name, who felt that.it was ** up
to him" to let Burke know that Ruderick
and his push were in pursuit. He had a
score to settle with the chief, which had
been troubling him for months in his sense
of honesty, and he considered the present
occasion a good one to discharge his debt.
Burke had told him of the touch early in the
day, and Ruderick's enterprise had been
made known to him not long after. He
knew that the majority in the push were
with Ruderick, but the opportunity to ** turn
down" the chief was too good to be lost,
and Burke was advised of his peril.

**Do they jus' want the dough an' the
thimble," asked Burke, '* or are they after
me, too?"

*' They're after you, you duffer," said
Jimmy, '* an' they'll have you, if you don't
flit. You've been chewing the rag all over
town, an' somebody's told 'em by this time."

" Do you mean to say that they're goin'
to turn me over to the chief ? "

** That's what they are, an' you'll be set-
tled, too. His Nibs is on his ear, they say,
an' the chief's got to square things."

' * Well, they can go plump to I ain't

no sucker to help out that chief. Let him
help hisself out. I'm goin' to flit right — "
His speech was cut short by the entrance
into the saloon of Ruderick and two *' pals."

It was a chase which is talked about still
when chases come up for discussion. It be-
gan below Twenty-third Street, and ended
in a vacant lot near the Eighth Avenue ele-
vated railroad terminal, and is probably the
only pursuit of a criminal in whose r^rrest
criminals alone were interested. Trolley
cars, cabs, and the '^ elevated" were all
used by both the pursued and the pursuers,
and a fierce struggle ended the flight. As
a last resort Burke took his stand in a fence
corner of the vacant lot, drew his razor, and
dared Ruderick and his two companions to
touch him. **It's a case o' knock out,"
said Ruderick, and poor Burke was made the
target for stones swiftly thrown and care-
fully aimed. He stood it as long as he could,
his face and hands being cut and bruised and
smeared all over with blood, and then cried
out, '* I cave — I cave."

" Couldn't help it, Burke, old man," said
Ruderick soothingly. ** Three to one ain't
fair, but it's business. The chief needs you,
and we need the chief. See! "

AN INTERNATIONAL WHEAT CORNER.

By J. D. Whelpley.

Editor's Notb. — ^The facts stated in the following article constitnte a heretofore secret chapter in the
diplomatic history of the United States. November 4, 1896, the Russian govemment proposed to the United
states that an alliance of the two countries be formed to benefit the American and Russian farmers at the
expense of the world. This proposition was made within a few hours of the election day of 1896, after the
country had been for months in the throes of a discussion of the silver question, in which the argument for
free coinage bore a remarkable resemblance to that advanced by Russia in favor of her proposed agrarian
treaty. The advances of Russia were treated as a diplomatic secret, and the written communications were im-
mediately buried in the files of the State Department. It transpired in Washington several weeks later that
Russia had sought such a conference, and it was capital gossip that her advances had been met almost rudely
by the American government, but no hint of the magnitude of the proposal or its definite character escaped
the government officials. For four years the details of the plan which could have been proposed by Russia,
had her advances been received in a friendly manner, have been accurately known to less than a score of
persons, all of whom were concerned in keeping the matter quiet for varying reasons. The documents here
given are exact copies of those on file in the Department at Washington, and the details of the proposed agree-
ment were secured by the writer from the Russian officials who conceived the plan and who still hope the
time will come when the people of the United States will give it favorable consideration.

f\^ the morning of November 4, 1896, the H. Olney, then the American Secretary of

^ Russian minister to the United States, State, that Russia and the United States

Mr. Kotzebue, acting under instructions from should enter into a combine to comer the

his government, proposed to the Hon. Richard surplus wheat of the world for the purpose

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AN INTERNATIONAL WHEAT CORNER.

of rairing the price of that cereal 100 per
cent. As explained by the Russian minister,
this government tmst was to be created
primarily for the benefit of the farmers of
Russia and the United States, but it was be-
lieved that it would result in time to be of
equal benefit to the wheat producers of the
entire world.

The Russian minister's communications
were oral and confidential. Accompanying
them was a diplomatic letter or 'memo-
randum,'' in which attention was called to
the financial crisis at that time confronting
the wheat-growers, owing to ^he low prices
prevailing for wheat at the farms, and setting
forth in detail the theory of the Russian gov-
ernment as to the origin of this depression,
and explaining why it was believed that con-
tinuously prosperous conditions would result
to the agriculturalists from concerted action
on the part of the two greatest wheat-pro-
ducing countries.

Secretary Olney, according to the custom
prevailing in the State Department when
communications are received concerning the
affairs of other departments, referred the
proposition of the Russian minister and the
written memorandum to the Hon. J. Sterling
Morton, then Secretary of Agriculture, with
the following letter of transmittal :

DEPARTMENT OP STATE,
WASmNGTON, D. C, November 4, 1896.
The Honorable the Secretary op Agriculture.

Sir: The enclosed memorandum from the Russian
minister at this capital relates to a subject upon which
you probably haye definite views, and as to which,
therefore, I am veiy desirous of obtaining your opinion
before making a reply to Mr. Kotzebue.

He giyto me to understand that the proposed inter-
nation^ conference will not be held, unless the United
States thinks well of the project.

Begging you to return the enclosed memorandum
when it has seryed your purpose, I am.
Respectfully yours,
(Signed) Richard Olney.

The following day, in compliance with the
request of the Secretary of State,theSecretary
of Agriculture returned the memorandum of
the Russian minister, with the following let-
ter of comment :

UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OP
AGRICULTURE.
Washington, D. C, November 5, 1896.
The Honorable the Secretary of State.

Sir : I acknowledge the receipt of your communica-
tion of yesterday wUch enclosed a memorandum from
the Russian minister at this capital relative to an in-
ternational agreement between wheat-growing coun-
tries to fix the price of that cereal in the markets of
the world.

Cheap prices for cereals in the last decade have been
brought about by cheaper and improved methods of
production and distribution. Labor-saving farm ma-
chinery and implements, together with reduced cost of
transportation by water and^ by rail, are the principal
contributors to the cheapening of breadstuffs.

It is true that agriculture is a source of livelihood
and surplus revenue to a very large proportion of the
earth's inhabitants, but the rapidly declining prices of
agricultural products, if only equal to the rapidly de-
clining prices of other commodities, cannot affect
either the living or the revenue of the farmer.

It has always been the aim of philanthropic civiliza-
tion to make food and raiment ami the comforts of life
in general cheaper and more generally obtainable all .
the world 6ver. International grain markets cannot
be arbitrarily furnished with permanent prices by any
sort of an international agreement, although I confess
that an international congress to fix the price of wheat
would be equally as efficacious and conclusive as an in-
ternational monetary conference called for the pur-
pose of fixing the price of silver.

The relation of supply and demand is the sole regu-
lator of value. The supply of wheat has been largely
increased by modem methods providing cheaper pro-
duction of that cereal, while the cost of distributing
this crop among the populational centres of the globe
has been very much diminished and the demand has
not grown vdth the same celerity as has the supply.
Therefore the decline in price is logical and unavoid-
able.

The fact that this general decline makes foods ob-
tainable by less effort among laborers and others all
the world over is, it seems to me, cause for congratu-
lation rather than for despondency among enlightened
statesmen.

In my judgment, it is not the business of govern-
ment to attempt, by statutes or international agree-
ments, to override the fixed laws of economics, nor can
government repeal, amend, or mitigate the operation of
those laws, chief among which is that which declares
that the relation of supply to demand is the sole regu-
lator of value.

Holding these opinions, I cannot believe for a mo-
ment that a conference of the representative countries
which export cereals would throw light upon the nature
of the crisis to which the memorandum alludes. Nor
do I believe that the wheat-exporting countries can, by
uniting in any way, become a permanent power in the
international markets so as to fix the price of wheat
and other cereals therein.

' No amount of discussion or deliberation in an inter-
national conference can repeal the laws of gainful
trade, which are based upon an enlightened selfishness,
and adjust themselves to foreign as well as to domestic
exchange. The price of wheat will continue to be
regulated by the relation of the world's supply of
wheat to the world's demand for wheat in <U1 the
markets of the globe.

Very respectfully yours,

(Signed) J. Sterling Morton,

Secretary.

Prom the point of view taken by the Rus-
sian government, Secretary Morton's reply
was unsatisfactory and his reasoning founded
upon incomplete information and erroneous
deductions. For twenty-five years the Rus-
sian Department of Finance had studied the
wheat market and collected data as to pop-
ulation, wheat acreage, wheat supply, de-

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AN INTERNATIONAL WHEAT CORNER,

365,

mandy and prices, and from these data had
reached the conclusion that the laws of sup-
ply and demand had little to do with regu-
lating the prices realized for their wheat by
the Russian farmers. It had been proved
to the Russian mind that the price of wheat
was manipulated by speculators, and that
nearly every year the farmer was the victim
of their operations. The spirit shown in the
reply of the United States government to the
advances of Russia was so entirely unfriendly
to the proposed conference that the matter
was at once dropped by Russia, for the time,
at least, so far as the United States was
concerned. The idea was not entirely aban-
doned, however, for the Russian government,
believing fully in the justice and practicabil-
ity of the wheat comer proposed, at once
set to work in a more indirect manner to bring
about in time a more friendly consideration
of the matter by the United States.

The first step taken was to authorize the
financial agent of the Russian government in
the United States, M. de Routkowsky, to urge
the organization of an international bureau
which should gather and compile for purposes
of deduction all statistics relating to agri-
culture, Russia believing that in time the
people of the United States would therefrom
inevitably and logically reach the same con-
clusions upon which had been based Russia's
proposition for the respective governments
to act as middlemen for the benefit of the
farmers.

Russia and the United States furnish nearly
ninety per cent, of all the breadstuff s which
enter into international trade, the resources
of each country being about equal for this
purpose. In Russia, the agricultural popu-
lation buys ninety per cent of everything
that is sold in the empire. In the United
States, the agricultural population buys be-
tween fifty and sixty per cent, of all domestic
purchases, owing to the greater manufactur-
ing element. In Russia, more than in any
other great nation, hard times with the
farmers means distress for aU, from the im-
perial treasury to the humblest peasant.
This was brought home to the Russian govern-
ment in 1893, when wheat dropped to fifty
cents a bushel, and, in consequence, distress
prevailed throughout the empire. Hampered
by no constitutional restrictions or need of
congressional action, the Russian govempient
set to work, at once and by direct means, to
raise the price of wheat. Three measures
were instituted. The government bought
all supplies of breadstuff s for the army directly
from the farmers, thus giving the middle-

man's or speculator's profit to the producer.
In eleven provinces where famines of previous
years had exhausted the government grain
warehouses of their contents, these stores
were replenished. The government then
offered to loan money to the farmers at four
per cent., taking wheat as security, thus
enabling ike growers to hold their product
for a better market

As a result of these steps, the price of
wheat increased from ten to twenty per
cent. Twenty-seven million dollars was bor-
rowed by the farmers from the government
on grain. In all this vast loan, there was a
loss of but $700,000, or about half of the
interest due on the whole amount. The two
first-named measures were temporary. The
system of loans proved so successful that it
was continued, and is still in force, to the
profit of the government and the advantage
of the farmers. It was by these means that
speculation in wheat was rendered by govern-
ment interference practically impossible in a
country of a population of 130,000,000,
which raises nearly 400,000,000 bushels of
wheat, of which twenty per cent, is surplus
over £md above the needs for domestic con-
sumption.

Russia has had in her own experience
another instance of the possibility of govern-
ment control of a great food product Each
year, the Minister of Finsmce fixes the amount
of sugar which shall be produced in the em-
pire, and sets the price at which it shall be
sold. The average domestic consumption is
about one billion pounds. This is announced
as the legal limit of production which shall
be put upon the market during the year.
In addition, the empire is allowed to manu-
facture 180,000,000 pounds more, which is
placed in storage. The one billion pounds,
as it is sold, pays an excise tax of two and
one-half cents a pound. If at any time,
through increased demand, sugar becomes
worth more than the price fixed by the
government, the 180,000,000 pounds in re-
serve is allowed to reach the market free of
excise duty. If this does not supply the
market at the legal price, the government
itself will buy from foreign countries enough
sugar to supply the need for a bear influence
upon the price. This has been done by
Russia twice during the past ten years.
This system of course precludes any export
business in sugar, but the Russian govern-
ment does not believe that the exporting of
sugar from Russia can be made profitable or
advisable, so it does not encourage it

With this domestic experience in the

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AN INTERNATIONAL WHEAT CORNER,

government control of the prices of great
agricultural products, the Russian govern-
ment naturally turned its attention to the
possible control of the wheat prices of the
world. It was established to the satisfaction
of the Department of Finance that the price
of wheat was not entirely governed by the
law of supply and demand at all times. For
twenty-five years, the fluctuations in the
price of wheat had been noted, and their
relations to the world's supply and the
world's demand. From these figures certain
facts were deduced. It was shown that from
1860 to 1883 the construction of railroads
brought new wheat fields nearer to distant
markets, thereby supplying these markets
with grain at cheaper prices than could be
done from Europe, where the high value of
land, combined with the exhausted condition
of the soil and necessity for fertilizers, did
not allow the farmers to produce breadstuffs
profitably at prevailing prices. Low prices
for wheat came in the latter part of the
decade mentioned as a result of these changes
in the channels of the world's trade and
the development of new bread-producing
area.

From 1882 to 1893, the area of the cul-
tivated land in the world increased only five
per cent. The amount of crops gathered
increased at about the same ratio. At the
same time the population of the countries
which are the consumers of wheat increased
about eleven per cenU, and the rate of per
eapUa consumption of wheat rose steadily
during the same period. The Russian gov-
ernment claimed that these figures could
mean but one thing ; not that there was
over-production, but that artificial causes
were responsible for the low price. The
number of consumers had increased, the
amount consumed by each one was greater,
and the production of grain had not kept
pace with this growth in demand by at least
one-half. To the mind of the Russian gov-
ernment ofl!cial, it appeared logical to con-
clude, under these circumstances, that if the
law of supply and demand governed prices,
they should have been higher in 1893 than
they were in 1883, but their Department of
Statistics assured them that this was not so,
and that the Russian farmer received in 1893
only half as much for his wheat as he re-
ceived in 1883.

The Russian government was thoroughly
satisfied that the prosperity of aU agricul-
tural countries depended upon the farmer
receiving good prices for his wheat, that
the prevaiUng prices to the produce were

governed to a large extent by manipulations
of the market by speculators, who were in-
terested in the farmer getting as little as pos-
sible for his wheat and the consumer paying
the highest price he could be made to pay ;
that it was practicable for a government
to attempt to control the price of wheat for
the benefit of the farmers ; and that, as Rus-
sia and the United States produced ninety
per cent, of the breadstuffs entering into
international trade, by effecting a combine
these two countries could fix the price of
wheat in all the markets of the world.

Russia also believed that while the pros-
perity of the farmer meant prosperity to
the agricultural nations, it also meant pros-
perity to the whole world. When the farmer
had money he bought goods, when a nation
was prosperous it bought more of other na-
tions. Therefore, while the prosperity which
resulted from a high price for wheat would
primarily benefit the United States, Russia,
Roumania, and other wheat-growing coun-
tries, it would also benefit countries like
England, the Netherlands, and Belgium,
which had no wheat for sale, but which de-
pended for their prosperity upon the sale of
other goods to prosperous nations able to
buy them. In brief, the contention of Rus-
sia was that no considerable part of the
civilized world could remain prosperous long
without bringing prosperity to all of it in
the workings of the laws of compensation.
Thus naturally came to pass the proposition
made to the United States of America by
the Russian Empire.

Neither the memorandum of the Russian
minister nor the reply of the Secretary of
Agriculture of the United States conveys any
intimation of the details of this proposed in-
ternational wheat comer, but upon the best
Russian authority it can be stated that these
details had been fully considered by the
Russian Minister of Finance, and were ready
for submission to the government of the
United States as soon as the latter country
should signify its willingness to discuss them.
The reply of the Unit^ States to the first
overtures made by Russia was so conclusive,
even to brusqueness, that it left no opening
for more discussion. Hence the diplomatic
record goes no further. The plan favored
by Russia would have applied to the two
countries first entering into the agreement,
and 'subsequently to tdl of the other wheat-
exporting countries which, in self-defense,
would soon have been forced to join the
proposed great international wheat trust.

llie scheme devised by the Russian Minister

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AN INTERNATIONAL WHEAT CORNER,

367

of Finance, which would have been presented
to the United States for consideration, had
the suggested international conference been
held, was bold but simple in its provisions.
The two governments were to enter the
market as buyers of wheat at the stated
price of one dollar per bushel. They were
also to agree to sell this wheat at a price
which would cover the original outlay,
interest on the money invested, and the
cost of doing the business. Prom the Rus-
sian point of view, this would have been in-
cluded in a charge of a dollar and eight
cents a bushel for all wheat sold. If the
supply of wheat was such that foreign buy-
ers could not pay the price, the two govern-
ments were to absorb the surplus grain
through banks or other agencies, and store
it against a time when it might be needed
to supply a deficiency in the crop.

The theory underlying the scheme was that
all the wheat of the world is now needed for
food. With a guaranteed market at one
dollar a bushel, no one could buy it an3rwhere
for less, and all the wheat would still be sold
to the consumers as now, except that the
price could nevef go below the standing
oflfer of the United States and Russian gov-
ernments. It is not believed by Russia that
dollar wheat would mean any decrease in
consumption an3rwhere, as the difference in
price for the small quantity used by the in-
dividual consumer would not be appreciable,
and wheat has many times before reached
and exceeded the dollar point without de-
creasing the amount consumed. It is not
believed, therefore, that under this plan
either government would ever need to be-
come an actual purchaser, to maintain the
price agreed upon ; and on the theory that
the higher the price of wheat the better it
is for the wheat-producing countries, no con-
cern would be felt for any fluctuations above
the dollar mark.

As Russia and the United States produce
such a large percentage of the wheat of the
world, the export wheat of all other coun-
tries would also keep the same level, vary-
ing only according to differences in cost of
transportation to competitive markets. With
the export price at least a dollar, domestic
prices would be the same, and thus the
action of Russia and the United States would
raise the price of all the wheat in every
wheat-growing country on the face of the
earth. Mr. Morton has admitted that such
a course might temporarily increase the
price of wheat, but that in the end produc-
tion would be so stimulated as to cause a

vast overproduction and consequent inability
of the wheat-producing countries to control
the product. The Russians answer this by
saying that even if such overproduction was
possible, which they do not admit, it would
be some time before it would be felt, and
that if the time arrived when it was actually
imminent, the government price could be
lowered so as to discourage further expan-
sion of the wheat area. They also agree
with those economists who contend that the
possible wheat area of the world has nearly
reached its final limits, and that at the most
the expansion of this area is a slow process,
producing hardly perceptible effect upon the
supply in relation to the demand, owing to
the steady increase in population and the
consuming power of the people of the earth.
The Russians also instance the control of the
oil supply of the world by a private trust, as
an example of what could be done with
wheat by two great countries furnishing
nearly all of the product and with unlimited
financial and other resources.

It is unlikely that the United States,
within the life of the present generation at
least, will seriously consider such a plan.
It is contrary to the recognized principles of
a republic which, theoretically at least, does
not interfere with the business of the indi-
vidual, fights shy of paternalism, and as a
government of the people by all the people,
denies that any one industry can hope for
such specialized effort on its behalf. The
possibilities of such a government wheat
trust as is proposed by Russia are startling.
The wheat crop of the world in 1898 was
2,879,000,000 bushels. The price realized
by the farmer is about fifty cents a bushel
under ordinary conditions. Russia proposes
to add nearly a billion and a half of dollars
to the value of this wheat crop of the world.
To the United States, producing nearly
700,000,000 bushels, this would mean a gain
of about $350,000,000 to the agricultural
districts. To the Russian farmers, producing
about 400,000,000 bushels, it would mean a
yearly gain of $200,000,000, which would
be nearly all net profit, as the consumption
of wheat by the farmer bears small propor-
tion to his production. On the other hand,
to England, importing 125,000,000 bushels
of wheat, it would mean an increase of over
$60,000,000 a year in her bread bill. The
farmers of the United Kingdom would be
benefited to the extent of $30,000,000 by
the increased price for their wheat, but the
Russian-American wheat trust would deal
the English people the hardest blow of alL

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THE FISHERMEN'S PRAYER.

Upon France and (^ermany it would also fall
heavily. So serious in fact would it be to
the wheat-importing countries, that it would
soon constitute a bond of international sym-
pathy which would ally the great wheat-im
porting countries as against those exporting
In the first group would come England,
France, Germany, Belgium, Italy, Switzer-
land, the Netherlands, and many other
smaller countries. In the opposing group
would be Russia, Austria, Roumania and aU
of North and South America.

It is hardly probable that Russia and the
United States could enter into such an alli-
ance without a protest from England, France,
and Germany. How far such a protest
would be carried, if made, it is difficult to
say, but such a great danger, common to all
the importing countries, would bring them
together for self-protection. It would end
many international friendships and make
new ones. It would disturb present trade
iMtlances. It would give tremendous impetus

to domestic expansion in the wheat-growing
countries, especially in Russia and South
America. It would cause the wheat-eaters
to hate the wheat-growers, and make good
cause for war.

The United States government has refused
to consider the proposition. Russia ex-
presses mild wonder at this lack of percep-
tion of what she considers a great opportu-
nity, and still hopes for the conversion of
her great agricultural rival into an ally.
The agrarian party in the United States has
already demanded government aid for the
farmers as some compensation for the pro-
tective tariff levied for the benefit of manu-
facturers. By no one measure could an
agrarian party in power do more to appeal
to the imagination of its supporters than by
turning a friendly ear towiu*ds the advances
of Russia for the formation of such a wheat
comer, beside which the most extensive op-
erations in "the street" to-day are but
child's play.

THE FISHERMEN'S PRAYER.

By Wiluam Hale.

Lord God, Thy sea is mighty,
Lord God, our boats are small;

But Thy heart's open haven
Shall save us, each and all.

God of the meek and lowly,
God of the tempest-tried,

Be with us when we struggle.
And stand our wheel beside.

The grit and grace, oh, give us.
Until life's cruise shall close.

To batten down the hatches
And ride out all the blows.

And when the toil is ended.
And when the fishing's done.

Grant us in Thee to anchor.
After a voyage well run!

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JESUS AND THE RICH YOUNG MAN. '

One tfiing thou lackeat : go thy way,, tell whaUoever thou hatt^ and give to the poor, and thou shalt kave treature in heaveri:
iind eonu^take up the erose^ and follow fiM.— Mark, x. 21.

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

By the Reverend John Watson, D.D.,

Anthor of '* The Mind of the Maiter/* " Beside the Bonnie Brier Both/' etc. ,

Illustrated f^om Paintings and Drawings by Corwin Knapp Linson.

-I .

PART VIII.— A WARNING TO THE RICH.— THE HOME AT BETHANY.

IT is inevitable that any prophet who sets
himself to regenerate society shall face
the problem of riches, and various circmn-
stances made it very acute for Jesus. He
came Himself of the working class, and had
a keen sympathy with their life. Poverty
in Jesus' day was grinding and helpless,
when wages were not always paid and judges
could be always bought. His duty led Him
into the houses of rich people which were in
painful contrast to the home of His youth,
and He was made to feel in many ways that
an invitation to a rich man's house was an
honor to be thankfully and humbly used.
Would it have been wonderful if a certain

tone of moral bitterness and just resentment
had crept into Jesus' speech as He consid-
ered how differently Providence had treated
a heartless ingrate like Simon the Pharisee
and a faithful saint like his own mother ?
Surely if there be any anomaly in practical
affairs, it is that people full of pride and
blind to spiritual beauty should be dowered
with goods, while some of the noblest souls
should be harassed by narrow means and
petty struggles. And at this sight wise men
have lost their heads and used wild words.

No cross providence, however, affected
the sweetness of t^e Master's pouI or biassed
the impartiality of His teaching Jesus'

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THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

sayings gave no hint that He ever regretted
His own poverty, or that He envied the cir-
cumstances of Simon, or that He thought
such persons had been favorably treated by
His Father. What rather strikes one is the
constant suggestion that rich men were to
be pitied and that their possessions were a
drawback to their life. Jesus moves in and
out of the great houses with a fine detach-
ment and gracious condescension, as one

spiritual ideas and unworldly instincts. There
was also in him a fine vein of enthusiasm and
a habit of self-forgetfulness which were very
taking. Bom heir to dangerous advantages
and competing temptations, he was neither
a profligate nor a prig, but a well-living,
cultured, high-spirited, reverent gentleman ;
one to whom Providence may well give
riches, and who may be rich with safety.
It was certain that this young ruler should

A NATIVE PLOUGH.

The plough of Palestine to the sim-
pleet affair— an iron point fastened to a piece of wood, with
one liandle and a long slight beam to which the yoke is at-
tached.—Artist's Note.

having a more splendid and lasting heritage.
He laments the slender and sordid ambitions
of the rich who have no understanding and
do not grasp at great things, and it was to
Him a fact full of meaning that the king-
dom which was for the most part rejected
by the respectables as a devout imagination,
was received with great joy in the dwellings
of the poor. It is laid on His heart to speak
to the rich as no prophet has done since — not
with reproaches and invective, as if they
had wronged their brethren and were licensed
robbers, but with anxiety, as to persons who,
through a misfortune of great possessions,
were apt to make the chief loss of life. As
He delivers His message, although sometimes
for the sake of courtesy it takes the shape
of a parable, one rich man after another
stands out in his place and can be identified.
The &*st is given without disguise because
he was an acquaintance of Jesus and the fig-
ure in a romantic incident. He was a young
man residing somewhere in the country, and
belonged to the higher class in society. His
father had been wealthy, and the son had
succeeded to a large inheritance. Unlike
the son of another squire, who had despised,
the quiet country life and had played the
prodigal in a Gentile country, this man had
more respect for himself and his name. He
had other tastes than meat and drink, and
had carried himself with such intelligence
and honor that he was raised to the rank of
ruler in the nation. His character of good
principle and solid worth was quickened by

be profoundly interested in Jesus, and in him
the Master had a likely disciple. He would
be weary unto death of the religion of the
day and the insincerity of religious people ;
he would have an ear quick to catch the note
of reality, and a sense to appreciate the ap-
peals of the new Teacher. It would, of
course, matter nothing to him that Jesus
was poor, any more than that many of the
Pharisees were rich. It was only a vulgar
person like the man of the bams who would
have estimated Jesus by his garments; at
the young ruler's Jesus would have had water
for his feet, and every courtesy.

From time to time he had 4ieard Jesus,
and had been charmed by the elevation and
delicacy of His sentiments. One day, as he
sat alone in his library, thinking on the great-
est things, news came that Jesus was pass-
ing, and might never again return. The
enthusiasm which was in the air fired the
young ruler, and under a heavenly impulse
— that breath from above of which Jesus
spoke — he rushed into the way and knelt in
devotion at Jesus' feet. "Thou hast the
secret of life. I think, and I feel, and I
work, but I have not yet tasted the fullness
of living. What must I do to inherit ever-
lasting life ? " As Jesus looked at this man
in his nobility, and heard his ingenuous
prayer, the Master's soul went out to him,
and He loved the young ruler.

When Jesus answered that, for him, the
entrance into the larger life of the soul must

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON.

371

be poverty, the Master laid down a hard con-
dition, and yet one would have expected it
to be fulfilled. If Peter left his fishing-
boat and Matthew his custom-house at the
bidding of Jesus, neither having souls of
special refinement, then this man of finer
clay will go out to welcome the invitation of
the Master. This surely is the very man to
follow Jesus, in whom the Master will find
another John; and when he makes the great
refusal, Jesus cannot conceal His disappoint-
ment nor His regret over the subtle power
of riches and their unexpected fascination.
For riches are not to be judged as simply
80 much gold in a treasure chest, which its

dom from petty cares. He was asked to
reduce himself to poverty, and to become
the companion of fishermen, whose ways
were not his ways, and to wander about the
country who had lived in his home; and
even although he would have had Jesus for
his friend, he shrank from the sacrifice.
And thus a man so hopeful and attractive
that Jesus loved him, denied himself the
fullness of everlasting life, because he was
rich.

The second rich man appears in a story,
although he is evidently a close study from
life, and he is a very unlovely character.
As one gathers from his increase in wealth

PLOUGHING ON THE PLAINS OP JERICHO.

Ho man, having put his haw! to the plough, and looking back, i$ Jit for the kingdom.—Sr, Lukb, Ix. (B. The ploagfaman
mast of necessity keep his eye consUntly upon his furrow, for the small point of the plough, unless held and directed by the
ploughman, is at the mercy of every interfering stone. Therefore a ploughman " looking back " is valueless as a workman.
With one hand upon the plojigh, the peasant holds in the other a long iron-pointed stick, the goad, with which he urges bia
beasts to more strenuous efforts. At the other end of the goad is a broader iron, like a scraijer, with which the soft earth is
cleaned from the plough.— Artist's Note.

owner can count in his leisure hours. They
are, in the hands of such a one as this young
ruler, the means of a cultured life, and one
of the conditions of an assured position. He
would be indifferent to meat and drink, and
he would rattier despise purple and fine linen ;
but he did value the company of his social
equals — men of the same habits as himself
— and an atmosphere of refinement and free-

and his coarseness of tone, he has not been
the heir to riches and position, as was the
young ruler, and he had not therefore his
fine instincts and graciousness. His had
been the stem, hard struggle from poverty
to affluence — a progress not from knowledge
to knowledge, nor from character to charac-
ter, but from bam to barn. His was not a
bright intellect engaging itself with spiritual

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372

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

affairs, but his was the capacity for gather-
ing money, which seems to be consistent
with the coarsest stupidity. His was no
ambition to learn the secret of life ; his one
passion was to be the richest man in the dis-
trict. A simple character which any one
may read — this big farmer and self-made
man — grasping at every profit, crushing the
weaJcer merchants in com, making huge
profits out of the needs of the poor, jingling
his money in the hearing of all, and ever
bragging how little he began with, how
much he now possessed, how cleverly he had
farmed, bargained, invested, accumulated,
till the district was weary of him.

The man of the bams did not give any con-
sideration to Jesus — a penniless fellow who
had unsound ideas on property, and might
ask for money — but Jesus gave some thought
to him. The Master catches him in an hour
of his success, when he is swollen and bla-
tant'with prosperity, and etches him with the
keenest irony. It has been a very success-
ful harvest that year ; his ground has brought
forth plentifully; and, as is usual with his
omnivorous class, he gamers all gain from
the soil and the sunshine, from the shower
and the wind of God, as from other men's
labor and other men's brains, as his just and
sole possession. * He is quite overcome and
perplexed by his affluence — as such men,
they tell us,, often are — and really does not
know what to do with what he calls " my
fmits.'' One day he had a sudden inspi-
ration, which for days, if he had been able,
he would have mentioned as an instance of
originality: he would pull down the bams
which were bursting with plenty — he could
make sacrifices on occasion — and erect larger
bams, and therein he would store ** my fmits
and my goods,'' for the sense of his posses-
sions is growing.

When that is done, he will have a confer-
ence with his soul ; and if you be allowed to
hear a man and his soul speak together, you
understand the man. Jesus takes us to the
door of the room (or was it a bam ?), and
we overhear one of the choicest of conver-
sations— that between this kind of rich man
• and his soul. It could only by courtesy be
called a conversation, as the soul of such a
man has been so browbeaten and reduced
and ignored that it has nothing to say, and
hardly exists.

" Soul," said he — and then it occurs to
one how strange he should, with his fmits
and his bams, remember that he has such
a thing as a soul; and, next, one wonders
what he can have to speak about with his

soul. But he is not to make any rash excur-
sion into religion. '' Soul, thou hast much
goods "—wheat, that is, and barley, and oil,
and wines—** laid up "—that is, in the new
bams which are the admiration of the coun-
tryside— **for many years" — perhaps ten,
not very long as a soul's life goes, yet every
man must speak in the only terms he under-
stands. ** Take thine ease " — he is speak- •
ing to the spiritual part of him — ** eat " —
to his soul-** drink " — his soul — '* and be
merry" — his immortal soul. Nothing so
scathing, so contemptuous, so unanswerable
ever fell from the lips of Jesus. ** Fool,"
said God; for that night the man died, imd
an heir emptied the bams, while the soul of
the man entered, a friendless pauper, into
the spiritual world.

The third man of riches is a stronger fig-
ure and a more complicated character ; he
has taken his place in history and made for
himself a name, because he has been used to
throw into relief the contrast between pov-
erty and riches. He is not a sordid, igno-
rant wretch like the man of the bams, nor a
student like the 3roung mler, but rather
stands for the luxury and magnificence of
richei?. fi\s house was the castle of the dis-
trict. His feasts were known far and wide ;
he was a patron of the arts, and had an eye
for beautiful things. His days were so oc-
cupied with large affau*s, lind his evenings
with splendid hospitality, that he had no
leisure for private charity; but there was in
him a generous heart, and he would have
done kindly things if he had only thought.
As it was, in the greatness of his way he did
not notice the beggar, whose place was by
his gate, and who, with others of his kind,
depended on the largesse from the rich man's
overflowing table. Without was Lazarus in
his sores and misery, within was Dives in his
purple and fine linen, and so occupied was
Dives with his affairs and his feasts that he
passed Lazarus every day without a thought.
Amid his easy environment his imagination
had died, and he could not put himself in his
brother's place, nor did the contrast between
the two lots affect his comfort. The after-
look and the discipline of remorse awoke
what, unspoiled by riches, had been a kindly,
brotherly heart. In spite of the years of
thoughtless luxury and unconscious selfish-
ness, the heart of Dives still remained, and
in his hour of sore trouble he bethought
himself of his brethren; but it needed fire
to shake this victim of prosperity out of
self and set him free from the grip of
riches and their insidious, deadening power.

THE RICH MAN AND LAZARUS.

Thtre WM a certain rich man, tcfiih wan clothed in purjiU andJlM linen, . . . and there was a certain beg-
gar nofMtl Laznrttt, which was laid at hUt gate, full qf sorea • . moreover the doge eatne and licked his sores.

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374

THE Llt'E OF THE MASTER.

Mctorial map, looking northwetit frxmi
BetAany along the high way to Jerusu/e/n, and
showing (he Mount of Ollees in the middle

distance.

So three men are ruined by riches : one by
fastidious refinement, one by coarse greed,
one by unrestrained luxury; and Jesus was
terrified, lest His disciples should share their
doom, and declared with emphasis that for
a rich man to enter God's kingdom would be
as great a marvel as that a camel should
pass through the eye of a needle.

The Gospels show us the Master in public,
in the Temple of Jerusalem, in the High
Priest's palace, in Pilate's Judgment Hall,
on the green hill outside the gate, or on that
other hill where He delivered His sermon, or
in the meadow where He fed 5,000, or in
the synagogue of Capernaum, or on the lake
where the eager people crowd the shore.
We see Him as a Prophet, Reformer, Teacher,
Martyr, as the Messiah and Redeemer. But
the same Gospels lift the veil from Jesus'
private life, so that we know some of the
houses where He found a home in the hard
years of His ministry, and some of the friends
who comforted His heart. There was one
house in Cana where there would ever be a
welcome for Him, because on the chief day
of life He had turned the water of marriage
joy into wine; another in Capernaum, be-
cause there He had changed sorrow into
gladness, and given a young girl back to her
father from the gates of death. He had
stayed in John's modest lodging at Jerusa-
lem, as well as used the " upper room " of
a wealthier friend. There was a room in a
publican's house in Capernaum which was

sacred hecause Jesus had feasted there, and
sealed as in a sacrament the salvation of
Levi ; and Zaccheus, to the last day of his
life, saw the Master crossing his threshold
that night He slept in Jericho. The family
of St. Peter could have told many things of
Jesus— a fifth gospel of what He said and
did at His ease — but the home of the Gos-
pels dearest to the Christian heart is that of
Bethany, where the Master found a refuge •
from labor and persecution, and constant
sympathy with Mary and Martha and their
brother Lazarus.

So brief and tantalizing are the allusions
in the Gospels, and so keen and ingenious is
our interest in personal details, that various
incidents have been woven together into
what may be called the romance of Bethany.
This family first met Jesus, as is suggested,
when He dined in their house in Capernaum,
at the invitation of Simon the Pharisee, who
was afterward to appear as Simon the leper.
He was then a hard and formal Pharisee, of
clean life and orthodox faith, who had his
suspicions of Jesus, and desired to examine
Him quietly at his own table. His only son
was present, Lazarus, a quiet and thought-
ful young man, who, on his father being laid
aside by the most hopeless and loathsome of
diseases, became head of his family, and, it
is suggested, is known as the young ruler.
Watching the feast that day, and noting what
happened, were Simon's two daughters, Mar-
tha and Mary. One was unsentimental and

THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON.

376

practical, like himself, with a strong sense
of the legal side of religion, and an impa-
tience of its mystical spirit. The other was
spiritual and imaginative, in whom a mother
now departed was living, and to her rarer
soul the Pharisaic side of religion was un-
satisfying and repellent. If Jesus' presence
and bearing deepened Simon's suspicions and
dislike, the Master made converts of his
family. Martha repented of the inhospital-

Him with neglect; but one visitor asks no
man's leave and takes no man's insolence,
even though he be Simon the Pharisee. Was
it not a judgment on his exclusiveness and
hardness that this superstitious Pharisee was
stricken with the symbol of sin, the awful
scourge of leprosy ? He would not allow this
woman to touch him, but now not only his
Pharisaic friends, but the very outcasts of the
streets shunned his presence. He loathed

AT THE HOME OF MART AND MARTHA.
Martha, Martha,, thou art careful and troubled about many things.— LvKt, x. 41.

ity of her father's house, and was to repay
with usury the lack of service to Jesus that
day. Mary was much affected by the lowly
devotion of tfhe woman who was a sinner and
will love to anoint Jesus also, but this time
His head as well as His feet. And Lazarus
assures himself of what he has dimly imag-
ined, that the secret of everlasting life was
not within the Ten Commandments.

Poor Simon, so high and mighty, so hard
and self-sufficient, so unmerciful to sinners,
and so bitter against Jesus— a sad thing was
to befall him. He might treat Jesus as he
pleased, with rudeness or with courtesy, bid-
ding Him come with condescension, treating

the sight of this miserable in his house ; but
Simon has to leave his house, his city, his
associates, his children, and pass into seclu-
sion. Did the unfortunate father of our
friends repent of his treatment of Jesus and
seek His help ? And was Simon the leper,
healed now of his disease as well as of his
pride, present at the second anointing of
Jesus in his home of Bethany ? We dare to
hope that He who saved the children failed
not with the father, and that the woman who
was a sinner, and the man who was a Phari-
see, met in the kingdom of God.

Whether we can be certain in identifying
Simon the Pharisee with Simon the leper,

376

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

and the young ruler with Lazarus, the Gos-
pels at least give us three scenes in the fam-
ily life of the two sisters and their brother,
in each of which Jesus is the central figure.
The first is a picture of quiet life, and shows
us that the Master was not always working
at the highest pressure, but had His hours
of rest. Weary
with the discus-
sions of Jerusalem,
which He had been
visiting at a feast,
Jesus, who had no
love for cities,
escaped to Bethany
for rest. The com-
pany of good
women was to
Jesus, as to many
other delicate and
spiritual natures,
a relief and re-
freshment, because
He found Himself

, s^.

"L^po* TCFp^

7%r topers are thf saddeH of many iinhapjty sights
to meeipn€'$ ei^e^ in Palest in e. J tiare refmined front U-
lustratin0 the fiforst types. Jnto Jerusalem itsfff they do
not enter, but the wretched creatures throng the easterrt,
or \fount of OHve^, approach, and the roadfrmn the south
leading to the Jaffa gate. They have houses near SUoam,
biHit by the government.

Leprosy is not, ordinarily, contagions, and the
passer-by is in no danger, only one is careful to brush
away the persistent fly, that industrious carrier qf mi-
crobea.

Along the line of travel, lepers are met nvHh fre-
qfiently. The morning after my arHral at Sabtus,
awakened by a low nivmiur like a suppressed plaint ^ /
ventured forth to see what wight be the cause. J was
accustomed to the talking of the men and the sounds
from the horses, fjut this was unlike tithe r. A ( once
the partina of the (tJit Jluji. ,sfrtrtil ut,,uinny fof^n^
rated themselves fiwn the ihadows qf the knotted dive
trunks, and t/ie murmur became a weird ehanUng. They
were lepers, awaiting my appearance, in all stages qf the
loathsome disease, and, exhibiting their maimed and dis-
torted bodi'ty besottght charity in wailing chorus. They
crouched, they hobbled, they crawled, they sat in dumju
fcith upstretched hands, they supiilicated with discordant
voices. I sat depressed for many minutes as I watched
their painful departure.— Artkt'b Notb. •

u})on
sepa-

in an atmosphere of emotion and sympathy.
The sisters were of different types, although
one in kindness and loyalty, and their separate
individualities stand out in relief from the
story. Martha was chiefly concerned that
their Guest should be served, and her desire
was to compass Him with every observance
of hospitality. She was full of plans for His
comfort and rest, so that for once He should
have no care or burden. Her energy and
ingenuity, all inspired by love, were unceas-
ing, and showed the traces of the religious
spirit which knows no quietness, and expends
itself in the works of charity. It was in-
evitable that Martha should be impatient at
times with Mary, to whom this bustle of
goodness was altogether foreign. The joy
of Mary was to sit at the Master's feet and
drink in every word which fell from His lips,
for hers was the religion which hides truth
within the heart as great treasure. Martha
was concerned with wh^ is external, Mary
with what is spiritual; and if the Master
gently chided Martha, He was not indiflferent
to her solicitude for Him; and if He praised
Mary, it was not for inaction, but for in-
wardness. It is a grateful thought that
Jesus, who was homeless and a wanderer,
who was often hungry and thirsty, who was
soon to be shamefully used and tortured, had

Bethany with its
two hostesses.
One of them
cared for His
body, and this is
good woman's
work, so that
Martha is the
patron saint of
all good house-
wives and care-
ful mothers and
skillful nurses;
and the other
entered into His
thoughts and
plans, 80 that
Mary is the chief
type of the
women who see
visions and un-
derstand deep
things, and show
us the example
of saintship.
Within this haunt of Jesus were found the two
people who make the complement of religion
— Martha, the type of action ; and Mary, of
meditation. They stand together in the

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-oy^

THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON

2^7

VIEW PROM BETHANY TOWARD JERICHO.

This picture Is seen from the ruins of the so-called house of Mary and Martha. The house is mediaeval, possibly older .
but whatever its history it stands a landmark, overlooking the village and the whole stretch of country to the Dead Sea.—
Arti8T*s Note.

great affairs of the Church: St. Peter and
St. John, St. Francis and St. Dominic,. Eras-
mus and Luther; they are in our homes the
eager, strenuous, industrious people on whom
the work falls, and the gentle, gracious,
thoughtful souls who are the consolation
and quietness of life. Between the two
kinds no comparison must be made, upon
neither must any judgment be passed ; both
are the friends of Jesus, and the helpers of
the world.

The second visit of Jesus to Bethany is
associated with one of those swift and un-
expected family calamities which affect the
imagination by their poignant contrast, and
invest life with a profound seriousness.

The light does not shine so fully on Laza-
rus in his home as on his sisters ; but it is
easy to understand his position. The father
of the family was either dead or in seclu-
sion ; the mother must have been dead, and
was a pious memory. In such circumstances
a brother takes a father's part to his sis-
ters, and they do their best to mother him.
The charge of their common possessions
and the care of his sisters would fall on
Lazarus, and they could not have had a
more honorable or affectionate guardian.
Jesus' attachment to this man was so marked
and warm that the family took note of it,

and spake of it with jealous pride. Jesus
loved them all; but it was with emphasis
Martha said, **Him whom Thou lovest";
and Jesus said to the disciples who had
caught the same affection, ** Our friend Laza-
rus." These words of the sisters and the
Master are the portrait and biography and
judgment of Lazarus. What crystal purity
of soul, what silent understanding of spir-
itual mysteries, what rare perfection of char-
acter must have been his ! What longed-for
meetings these two must have had when
Lazarus would be watching in the garden
for the Master, and Jesus would kiss his
friend and say, '* Peace be unto thee, Laza-
rus!" What long conferences, when the
hours were too short, and Jesus told to this
quiet man all He hoped to do and suffer!
What longing, regretful partings when Jesus
left the garden to return to Galilee! '*A11
the commandments have I kept from my
youth up," said the young ruler to Jesus.
''Ye are my friends," said Jesus once to
His disciples, '* if ye do whatsoever I com-
mand you " ; and now He said, " Our friend
Lazarus sleepeth."

Within the home of Bethany some rapid
and deadly sickness had run its familiar
course. There would be the first stage,
when Lazarus did not seem to be himself,

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378

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

but knew not what ailed him— Mary imag-
ining some secret care for which she re-
proached herself, Martha insisting on over-
work, which she had long prophesied would
some day lay him aside. There would come

ing this time Lazarus would speak as if the
sickness was a thing of a day, and the sis-
ters would cheer one another with fancies of
his betterness. With the next stage all
hopeful, kindly make-believe would be at an

THE MEETING OF JESUS AND MARTHA.

/ am the resurrection^ and the /{/V.— John, xi. 25. Jesus has been in retirement, in that undefined region ** beyond Jordan/*
known as Perca, and living in that still more uncertain pince called Dcthabara, where John had baptized. The messenger sent
by the sorrowing family must have had a two or three days' jounicy to make, to find Jesus, and it could have been nearly eight
days ("He abode two days still in the place where He was"') before the arrival in Bethany. Lazarus, therefore, must have
died while Jesus still tarried in Perea, which, indeed, is evinced by Chriet's own Ptntemcnt to his disciples, so that Jesus found
that Lasarus *' had lain in the grave four days already.'* And then it was that Martha, the active, nervous, anxious Martha,
went oat to meet Him, ** but Mary sat still In the house.'' And it was Martha's privilege to hear, directly, the remarkable
words, ** I am the resurrection, and the life."

the second stage, when Lazarus, after much
protesting, would be obliged to yield before
the rising fever and the sisters would give
all their strength and love to his service—
Mary with delicate, grateful attentions, Mar-
tha with many ingenious expedients. Dur-

end, and they would know that it was already
a fight with death for Lazarus, when phy-
sicians and remedies and love itself seemed
poor opponents to the dread, confusing power.
And then the end came, when two broken-

hearted, clinging women, praying, watching.

THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON.

379

weeping, saw their brother slip from their
hands and fall asleep. It was the tragedy
which is acted sooner or later in every hu-
man home, but which never grows common-
place, which ever retains its austere and
awful grandeur.

When Jesus came at last to the help of
his friends, it was characteristic of Martha
that on the first rumor of Him she should
rush to meet Him; and on His comforting
her with the assurance that Lazarus would
yet live, should declare her faith in terms of
the Pharisaic doctrine of the Resurrection.
It was also characteristic of Mary, who did
not love public scenes, that she should re-
main in the house. As soon as Jesus began
to unfold His idea of everlasting life, which
was something Death could not touch, Mar-
tha, without any further word, sent for
Mary^ When Jesus touched on deep things,
it was the same as calling for Mary. As He
came to the place where we lay so often our
love, our life, our hope, Jesus was stirred in
the depths of His soul. He had sympathized
with others, fathers and mothers, in their
losses. Now death had rifted His own heart ;
and as He thought of Lazarus lying uncon-
scious, cold, corrupting, the tragedy of hu-
man life overcame Jesus, and He, who rather
concealed than paraded emotion, and had
Himself rebuked the wailing over Jairus'
daughter, wept aloud in that garden after
such 2k lamentable fashion that the Pharisees,
friends of the family who were present, said :
" Behold, how He loved him! "

'' Lazarus," said Jesus in full, as He stood
before the barred prison of death, ** this is
the first time I have visited Bethany and
that thou hast not come to meet Me. It is
not Bethany without thee ; I wait and weary
for My friend. I have not many friends, and
I cannot spare thee, Lazarus. Thou hast
gone on a long journey, and hast seen strange
sights; but thou hast not gone so far but
My voice will reach thee, and there will be
no sight so welcome as thy face. His is a
strong hand which holds thee, and no man
dare disobey his word ; but the key of Death's
stronghold is at my girdle, and I am his Lord.
Before I go to my agony and the cross I must
see thee, Lazarus. It is thy Friend who calls
—Lazarus, come forth!" And Death had
no power to prevent the meeting of Jesus
and His friend.

Once more we see Jesus with His friends,
and now the circumstances are less harrow-
ing, and still more beautiful. As Jesus has
arrived for the Passover— His last fe^st be-
fore all things should be fulfilled —He goes

to stay with them during Passion Week, so
that, whatever may be the controversy and
dispeace of the day in Jerusalem, He might
cross the Mount of Olives, and rest in Beth-
any. To celebrate His coming, and as a
sacrifice of thanksgiving for a great deliver-
ance, the family give a feast, and each mem-
ber thereof fills a natural place. Lazarus,
the modest head of the household, and now
surrounded with a mysterious awe, sits with
Jesus at the table ; Martha, as was her wont,
was superintending the feast with an access
of zeal ; and Mary was inspired of the Spirit
of Grace, and did a thing so lovely and so
spiritual that it will be told unto all time,
and will remain the picture of ideal devo-
tion. With a wealthy family it was custom-
ary to have in store a treasure of fragrant
ointment for the honoring of the dead ; but
there came into Mary's mind a more pious
use for it. Why pay the homage for a dead
body, and render it when the person can re-
ceive no satisfaction ? Far better that in
their lifetime our friends should know that
they are loved, and should be braced for
suffering by the devotion of loyal hearts.
Before His enemies have crowned Him with
thorns Mary will pour the spikenard on His
head, and before they have pierced His feet
with nails she will anoint them with her love,
so that the fragrance of the precious oint-
ment will be still on His hair when He hung
upon the cross.

The odor of the ointment filled the room,
and four people passed judgment. One un-
derstood and condemned — Judas, who was
arranging the betrayal of Jesus, and had
lost an increase for his bag. One did not
understand, but condemned — a Pharisee of
Jerusalem, who did not know that the plot
was so ripe, but hated to see Jesus honored.
One did not understand, but approved, and
that was an apostle — say, St. Peter— who
could not believe that Jesus would be cruci-
fied, bat who rejoiced that He should receive
any honor. One understood and approved,
and that was the Master, who, with the
shadow of the cross falling on His soul, was
comforted by a woman's insight and a
woman's love. Her own heart taught her
the secret of sacrifice ; her heart anticipated
the longing for sympathy; and so beautiful
in its grace and spiritual delicacy was her
act that Jesus declared it would be told to
her praise wherever the Gospels were read.

The family of Bethany will ever have a
place in the heart of Jesus' disciples because
they made a home for Jesus in the days of
His ministry, and because ^they, compassed

380

A CHANCE SHOT.

Him with tender offices of friendship during
the strain of Passion Week. Very soon He
would be done with earthly homes and the
land in which He had lived as a wayfaring
man, but forever this Friend of man, hun-
gering for love and fellowship, passes down

the paths of life, and knocks at the door of
the heart. Blessed are they who hear His
voice and give Him welcome, who are not
ashamed of Him or of His cause, who serve
Him with their best, and pour upon His head
the riches of their love !

{.To be continued,)

A CHANCE SHOT.

By Henry Wallace Philups.

EDDY and I
were alone at
the Lake
beds. He sat
outside the
Ciibin, braiding a leather hat-
band eight strands, and the
** repeat " figure — an art that
I never could master.

I sat inside, with a one-
pound package of smoking tobacco beside
me, and newspapers within reach, rolling the
day's supply of cigarettes.

Reddy stopped his story long enough to
say : " Don't use the * Princess's Slipper,' Kid
— that paper bums my tongue — take the
'Granger'; there's plenty of it."

Well, as I was saying, I'd met a lot of
the boys up in town this day, and they
threw as many as two drinks into me ; I
know that for certain, because when we took
the parting dose, I had a glass of whiskey in
both my right hands, and had just twice as
many friends as when I started.

When I pulled out for home, I felt
mighty good for myself — not exactly looking
for trouble, but not a-going to dodge it any,
either. I was warbling "Idaho" for all I
was worth — you know how pretty I can sing?
Cock-eyed Peterson used to say it made him
forget all his troubles. " Because," says he,

''you don't notice trifles when a man bats
you over the head with a two-by-four."

Well, I was enjoying everything in sight,
even a little drizzle of rain that was driving
by in rags of wetness, when a flat-faced
swatty at Fort Johnson halted me.

Now it's a dreadful thing to be butted to
death by a nanny-goat, but for a full-sized
cowpuncher to be held up by a soldier is
worse yet.

To say that I was hot under the collar
don't give you the right idea of the way I
felt.

" Why, yon cross between the Last Rose
of Summer and a bob-tailed flush ! " says I,
" what d'yer mean ? What's got into you ?
Get out of my daylight, you dog-robber, or
I'll walk the little horse around your neck
like a three-ringed circus. Come, pull your
freight!"

It seems that this swatty had been
chucked out of the third story of Prenchy's
dance emporium by Bronc. Thompson, which
threw a great respect for our prof esh into
him. Consequently he wasn't fresh like most
soldiers, but answers me as polite as a tin-
horn gambler on pay-day.

Says he : "I just wanted to tell you that
old FVosthead and forty braves are some'ers
between here and your outfit, with their war
paint on and blood in their eyes, cayoodling
and whoopin' fit to beat hell with^e bloweur
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A CHANCE SHOT.

881

on, and if you get tangled up with them, I
reckon they'll give yon a hair-cut and sham-
poo, to say nothing of other trimmings.
They say they're ^ter the
crows, but if s a ten-dollar
bill against a last year's
bird's-nest that they'll take
on any kind of trouble that
comes along. Their hearts
is mighty bad, they state, and ^
when an Injun's heart gets %"
spoiled, the disease is d — d ^^
catching. You'd better stop
a while."

" Now, cuss old Prosthead,
and you too !" says 1. "If he
comes crow-hopping on my
reservation, FU kick his pan-
talettes on top of his scalp-
lock." ^J

" All right, pardner ! " says
he. "It's your own funeral.
My orders was to halt every
one going through; but I
ain't a whole company, so
you can have it your way.
Only, if your friends have to take you home
in a coal-scuttle, don't blame me. Pass,
friend !"

So I went through the oflScers' quarters
forty miles an hour, letting out a string of
yells you might have heard to the coast, just
to show my respect for the United States
army.

Now this has always been my luck : When-
ever I make a band-wagon play, somebody's
sure to strike me for my Ucense. Or else
the team goes into the ditch a mile further
on, and I come out about as happy as a small
yaller dog at a
bob - cat's cau-
cus.

Some fellers
can run in a
rhinecaboo that
'ud make the
hair stand up
on a buffeler
robe, and get
away with it
just like a mice ;
but that ain't
me. If I sing a ^_
little mite too
high in the cel-
lar, down comes the roof a-top of me. So
it was this day. Old Johnny Hardluck
socked it to me, same as usual.

Gosb a'mighty ! The liquor died in me

after a while, and I went sound asleep in the
saddle, and woke up with a jar — to find my-
self right in the middle of old Frosthead's
gang ; the drums " boow-hli^
ping," and those forty-odd red
tigers "hyah-hayahing" in a
style that made my skin get
up and walk all over me with
cold feet.

How in blazes I'd managed
to slip through those Injuns
I don't know. 'Twould have
been a wonderful piece of
scouting if I'd meant it. You
can 'most always do any dam
thing you don't want to do.
Well, there I was, and,, oh
Doctor ! but wasn't I in a
lovely mess ! That war-song
put a crimp into me that Jack
Frost himself couldn't take
out.

It was as dark as dark by
this time. The moon just
stuck one eye over the edge
of the prairie, and the rest
of the sky was covered with cloud. A
little light came from the Injuns' camp-
fire, but not enough to ride by, and, be-
sides, I didn't know which way I ought to
go.

Says I to myself, " Billy Sanders, you are
the champion all-around, old-fashioned fool
of the district. You are a jackass from the
country where ears less'n three foot long are
curiosities. You sassed that poor swatty
that wanted to keep you out of this, toot-
ing your bazoo like a man peddling soap ; but
now it's up to you. What are you going to do

about it ? "—
and I didn't get
any answer,
neither.

Well, it was
no use asking
myself conun-
drums out there
in the dark
when time was
so scarce. So I
wraps my han-
kercher around
baddy's nose to
keep him from
talking horse to
the Injun ponies, and prepared to sneak to
where I'd rather be.

Laddy was the quickest thing on legs in
that part of the country — out_(jf a mighty

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

383

A CHANCE SHOT.

spry little Pinto mare by our thoroughbred
Kentucky horse — and I knew if I could get
to the open them Injuns wouldn't have much
of a chance to take out my stopper and ex-
amine my works — not much. A half-mile
start, and I could show the whole Sioux na-
tion how I wore my back hair.

I cut for the place where the Injuns seemed
thinnest, lifting myself up till I didn't weigh
fifteen pound, and breathing only when nec-
essary. We got along first-rate until we
reached the edge of 'em, and then Laddy had
to stick his foot in a gopher-hole, and wal-
loped around there like a whale trying to
climb a tree.

Some dam cuss of an Injun threw a hand-
ful of hay on the fire, and, as it blazed up,
the whole gang spotted me.

I unlimbered my gun, sent the irons into
Laddy, and we began to walk. ,

I didn't like to make for the ranch, as I
knew the boys were short-handed, so I pointed
north, praying to the good Lord that I'd hit
some kind of settlement before I struck the
North Pole.

Well, we left those Injuns so' far behind
that there wasn't any fun in it. I slacked
up, patting myself on the back ; and, as the
trouble seemed all over, I was just about to'
turn for the ranch, when I hearf horses gal-
loping, and as the moon came out a little I
saw a whole raft of redskins a-boiling up
a draw not half a mile away. That knocked
me slab-sided. It looked like I got the wrong
ticket every time the wheel turned.

I whooped it up again, swearing I wouldn't
stop this deal short of a dead sure thing.
We flew through space — Laddy pushing a
hole in the air like a scart kiyote maUng
for home and mother.

A ways down the valley I spotted a little
shack sitting all alone by itself out in the
moonlight. I headed for it, hollering murder.

A man came to the door in his underrigging.

"Hi, there! Whafs eating you?" he
yells.

" Injuns coming, pardner ! The country's
just oozing Injuns ! Better get a wiggle on
you !"

" All right — slide along, I'll ketch up to
you," says he.

I looked back and saw him hustling out
with his saddle on his arm. " He's a particular
kind of cuss," I thought ; " bareback would
suit most people."

Taking it a little easier for the next couple
of miles, I gave him a chance to pull up.

We pounded along without saying any-
thing for a spell, when I happened to notice
that his teeth were chattering.

" Keep your nerve up, pardner ! " says I.
"Don't you get scared — we've got a good
start on 'em."

He looked at me kind of reproachful.

"Scared be demed !" says he. "I reckon
if you was riding around this nice cool night
in your drawers, your teeth 'ud rattle some,
too."

I took a look at him, and saw, sure enough,
while he had hat, coat, and boots on, the
pants was missing. Well, if it had been the
last act, I'd have had to laugh.

"Couldn't find 'em nohow," says he ; "hunted
high and low, jick. Jack, and the game —
just comes to my mind now that I had 'em
rolled up and was sleeping on 'em. I don't
like to go around this way — I feel as if I was
two men, and one of 'em hardly respectable."

"Did you bring a gun with you ? "

He gave me another stare. " Why, pardner,
you must think I've got a light and frivolous
disposition," says he, and with that he heaves
up the great-grand-uncle of all the six-
shooters I ever did see. It made my forty-
five-long look like something for a kid to cut
its teeth on. " That's the best gun in this
country," he went on.

" Looks as if it might be," says I. " Has
the fotfndry that castjt gone out of business?
I'd like to have one like it, if it's as dangerous
as it looks."

" When I have any trouble with a man,"
says he, "I don't want to go pecking at
him with a putty-blower, just irritating him,
and giving him a little skin complaint here
and there ; I* want something that'll touch
his conscience."

He had it, for a broadside from that
battery would scatter an elephant over a
township.

We loped along quiet and easy until sun-
up. The Grindstone Buttes lay about a mile
ahead of ub. Looking back, we saw the

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ill it up your5elf=we he^v^
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•^OS^ r>. (tt. i I ■/! ^'.-il, r "- <- (I.

I An Appeal Only I
I to Curiosity.

J In this advertisement Wi; offer you
^ no things for sale; we tell you nothing
;f^ about what we have to selL

Lcn

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> We simply ask the privilege of mail-

> ing you FREE our most expensively
* prepared and elaborately illustrated

The Test of Time/'

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ami aililte^- t<>

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b * d. * <f ^ dk ii A A A A A * A ^ 4 .*.A ^ A ^.A *.'^ <

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384

A CHANCE SHOT.

^'I wouldn't mind that half as much as
winning,*' says I. " But on the square, do you
think we can get out ? I'll jump him with
you if you say so, although I ain't got what
you might call a passion for suicide."

" Now you hold on a bit," says he. " I
don't know but what we'd have done better
to stick to the horses, and run for it, but it's
too late to think of that. Jumping him is
all foolishness ; he'd sit behind his little rock
and pump lead into us till we wouldn't float
in brine— and we can't back out now." '

He talked so calm it made me kind of mad.
"Well," says I, "in that case, let's play
* Simon says thumbs up ' till the' reertJ of the
crowd comes."

" There you go ! " says he. " Just like all
young fellers — gettin' hosstyle right away if
you don't fall in with their plare* Now,
Sonny, you keep your temper, and watch
me play cushion carroms with our friend
there."

"Meaning how ?" ; '

"You see that block of stone just this
side of him with' the square face towards us ?
Well, he's only covered in front, and I'm
a-going to shoot against that face ahd ketch
him on the glance."

" Great, if you could work it ! " says I. " But
Lord!"

" Well, watch ! " says ha Then he
squinched do>vri behind his cover, so as not
to give the Ipjun an opening, trained his
cannon and pulled the trigger. The ol^gun
opened her mouth and roared like an earth-
quake, but I didn't see any dead Injun. Then
twice more she spit fire, and still there
weren't any desirable cprpses tp be had.

"Say, pardner," says I, "you wouldn't
make many cigars at this game ! "

"Now, don't you get oneasy," says he.
"Just watch!"

"J9f^.'" says the old gun, and this time,
sure enough, the Injun was knocked clear of^
the rock. I felt all along that he wouldn't
be much of a comfort to his friends after-
wards, if that gun did land on him.

Still, he wasn't so awful dead, for as we
jumped for the horses he kind of hitched
himself to the rock, and laying the rifle across
it, and working the lever with his left hand,
he sent a hole plumb through my hat.

"Bully boy !" says I. I snapped at him,
and smashed the lock of his rifle to fiinders.
Then, of course, he was our meat.

As we rode up to him, my pard held dead
on him. The Injun stood up straight and
tall, and looked us square in the eye— say,
he was a man, I tell you, red-skin or no red-
skin. The courage just stuck out on him as
he stood there, waiting to pass in his checks.

My pardner threw the muzzle of his gun
up. '^D— nit! "says he,. "I can't do it-
he's game from the heart ^ put ! But the
Lord have mercy on his sinful soul if he and
I run foul of each other on the prairie again! **

Then we shacked along down to Johnson's
and had brealrfast.

"What became 0t Frosthead and his
gang ?" Oh, they sent out a regiment or
two, and gathered him in — 'bout twenty-five
soldiers to an Injun. No^ no barm was
done. . Me and my pard were the ;only ones
that bucked up against them. Chuck out a
cigarette, Kid; my lungs ache tor want of a
smoke. >

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your own AcI.Itl-ss

urns ClIII.K ft BOSS, |»^p,. 0. 153 «,ier Bir.rl, Vw Tork

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no thin gf for sale; we tell you nothing
about what we have to sell.

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MAGAZINE

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PUBLISHED MONTHLY QY THE

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Drawn from life.

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McClure's Magazine.

Vol. XV.

SEPTEMBER, 1900.

THE TRAINING OF LIONS, TIGERS, AND OTHER

GREAT CATS.

By Samuel Hopkins Adams.

FROM PERSONAL

INTERVIEWS WITH THE
THE AVORLD.

LEA1)IN(J TRAINERS OF

Illustrated by Drawings prom Life by Charles R. Knight.

Editor's Note. — The artist, Mr. Charles R. Knight, of the Americau Museum of Natural History, spent
several weeks studying the subjects of these illustrations at the Zoological Gardens in Baltimore and else-
where. Mr. Knight's long training in the field of zoology, his accurate knowledge of the anatomy of the lion,
and his skill as an artist, have made it possible for us to obtain what we consider to be probably the most perfect
drawings of lions which have ever been produced. They are not simply pictures, but they are actual portraits.

most incessantly suffered from sea-sickness,
want of care, and insuflScient food. It is
weak, wretched, and broken in body and
spirit. In a few hours it has a comfortable
and spacious cage, with clean straw, fresh air,
good food, and, above all, quiet and peace.
Then the new arrival is ready to establish
amicable relations with the human beings who
seem to be connected with this new career of
first-class board and lodging. Therefore, the
new arrival, whether lion, tiger, leopard,
jaguar, or puma, is in a proper frame of mind
for the commencement of its education.
On the other hand, the feline born in cap-
cause of their reputa- tivity is a spoiled child. Accustomed to man
tion for ferocity and from the beginning, it has for him neither
fear nor respect. In consequence, it endures
the presence of the trainer in its cage with-
out protest; but let him attempt to force it
into some course of action against its will,
at the first touch of punishment it springs
at his throat. Then only the harshest meas-
ures, long continued, will avail, and the
chances are that the animal will be worth-
less as a performer and utterly untrust-
worthy throughout its existence. The lion
or tiger kitten that has been the pet of
some private family is still worse bred, and
commonly returns to menagerie life accom-
panied by a message to this effect: ** Please

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RADITION of the mena-
gerie has decreed that
man's superiority over
the animal shall be
turned to financial ac-
count in the subjuga-
tion and education of
the great felines.
The lion, the tiger,
the leopard, the
puma, the jaguar,
and others of the
fierce cats are chosen
for this career be-

cunning, and because of the demand of the
show-going public for the greatest possible
element of peril. So there has grown up a
profession known as ** lion-taming " — a mis-
nomer, for no feline, except the domestic
variety, is ever tame while it has life in it — a
profession that is never likely to become
overcrowded.

First, as -to the selection of the animal.
On one point all trainers are agreed : that
an animal from the wilds is preferable to
one born in captivity; and the reason is a
simple one. The captive creature lands
after a long voyage, during which it has al-

/ Google

388 THE TRAINING OF LIONS, TIGERS, AND OTHER GREAT CATS,

take Kitty back ; she has eaten the mastiff/'
Or it may be that the youngster adds to the
interest of city life, as did a little lioness
who was taken to the bosom of a quiet Phila-
delphia family several years ago. She broke
out of her cage one night, sequestrated the
owner of the house on a high-railed balcony,
and bit a finger off a policeman who un-
guardedly attracted her attention before, in-
stead of after, climbing a convenient tree.
That one night ruined her; she was a bad
lioness all her life. It is seldom worth
while to work over a feline whose infancy
has been passed as a member of a private
family.

It must not be supposed that all captive
felines are amenable to education. The per-
sonal equation enters in very largely. What
will do for the lion will do for the tiger,
the leopard, the puma, or the jaguar; but
what will do for one lion, tiger, puma, or
jaguar will not do for another. And the
public, in assuming that the lion is brave
and the tiger treacherous, and in ascribing
set qualities to the other great cats, is gen-
eralizing without basis.

The lion is feared for his clumsiness, which
makes liim likely to do damage unwittingly;
the jaguar and leopard for their terrific swift-
ness in action, and the tiger for a tenacity
of purpose w^hich, once aroused, is almost
unconquerable. But it cannot be said that

one species is more to be feared, generally
speaking, than another. It is the individual
that must be reckoned with and studied by
the successful trainer. One animal is sulky,
another stupid, a third subject to sudden fits
of rage, another curious, another timid, an-
other will show a certain fussy and old-maid-
ish disposition, and refuse to perform unless
all the circumstances are just as he thinks
fit. To master such characteristics is the
life-work of the trainer, and his life may
depend upon his acumen. There is a very
famous lion now performing who fears only
one thing, a stick held in the left hand of
the trainer. The man may have a club, a
knife, a pistol, or even a fire-brand in his
right hand, and the lion will spring for him ;
but the smallest wand in the left hand will
keep the beast perfectly tractable. No sat-
isfactory explanation of this individual pecu-
liarity has ever been offered, and one trainer
limps for life because he didn't make the
discovery in time. With rare exceptions,
all the great felines are untrustworthy, and
more or less treacherous.

Sex is a factor in animal
training. The females of
the cat species are, as a rule,
more easily managed and less
dangerous than the males. I
have talked with one man of
wide experience with animals

Ci:hv RKfii^HT

"^=^

• //r dram lnwk. gmtrlft, and thrnstlng nut c kuQe pate, pin» the intrv '

otick) tit tht(fl*

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THE TRAINING OF LIONS, TIGERS. AND OTHER GREAT CATS. 389

*' He /eet» it rubbed, genUt rubbed, along hiMneek and bcwk. . . . There i» nothing a Hon ho lot^naa grooming."

of all kinds, who declares that there is no
large animal, except the elephant, that takes
to training more kindly, and follows its les-
sons more conscientiously, than the average
tigress. The sex of the trainer has influence
upon many animals. Lions and lionesses who
will not permit a man in the cage, can be
handled by a woman, and the reverse is also
true, though women are more successful
than men as trainers, and have fewer ac-
cidents. Sometimes an animal will con-
ceive a real affection for the trainer, and will
fawn upon him like a dog, and even protect
him from the others should they attack him ;
but the vast majority of cases of defense of a
trainer by an animal have no firmer founda-
tion than in the fertile imagination of the
ingenious press agent.

A well-authenticated case, however, is that
of a Polish Jewess who has had great suc-
cess in training lions, and who was attacked
during a rehearsal in St. Louis by a young
lion, and thrown to the floor. Instantly, a
somewhat smaller lioness, who had always
been tractable, leaped upon the lion, and
gave him so much to attend to that the
trainer got to her feet, and was then able to
whip the oflfending lion back to his comer.

No trainer depends on any such interfer-
ence; in fact, he takes it for granted that if
he is attacked and thrown, the other beasts
in the cage will join in the onset. The fel-
lowship of animal for animal in the bonds of
slavery is stronger than that of animal for
man. Once in the cage, the trainer is alone
among vastly superior forces that may at
any moment become hostile.

Let us consider the education of a two-
year-old lion who has just been established
in his quarters after a sea voyage from the
coast of Africa, and has begun to feel the
cheering effect of his improved circum-
stances. Presumably he is looking about
him with some curiosity as to what is com-
ing next. Already he has become accus-
tomed to regard the approach of men as an
indication of feeding time; consequently he
is inclined to honor the human being with
his approval on general principles. To his
cage comes the trainer, and speaks to him
in soothing tones. Leo regards him without
any evidence of perturbation. The trainer,
after talking to him for a few minutes,
throws him a savory strip of meat, and
loiters around the cage for an hour or more
before he goes.

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890 THE TRAINING OF LIONS, TIGERS, AND OTHER GREAT CATS.

The next day he is back
again, and the same perform-
ance is repeated. By the third
day Leo, being of average in-
telligence, recognizes his voice
when he comes to the cage —
it is always the voice that a
lion recognizes first, for which
reason a trainer invariably
speaks to his animals upon ap-
proaching them — and, if he
is in pretty good humor,
purrs. That is the signal
for the next step in the ac-
quaintanceship. The trainer
pokes a broomstick between the bars.

This invasion is more than Leo bargained
for, however. He draws back, growls, and,
thrusting out a huge paw, pins the intruding
object to the floor ; then drags it into the
cage, the trainer offering no resistance.
Perhaps the lion contents himself with knock-
ing the stick about a bit, and growling at it,
having ascertained that it is harmless; or
perhaps he crunches it between his terrible
teeth. At any rate, no sooner has he dis-
posed of it to his satisfaction, and settled
down again, than another stick appears, and
the quiet voice that he has learned to rec-
ognize is heard outside. Very likely Leo
pulverizes that intruder, too ; but the broom
sections persist, until he wearies of trying to
make toothpicks out of such a quantity of
lumber, and permits one of them to be laid
on his back without protest.

Behold, now, a wonderful matter to the
illuminated mind of liCO, for not only is
there no harm in this piece of wood, but it
is an agency for the increase of happiness.
He feels it rubbed, gently rubbed, along his
neck and back, and from a dubious and some-
what timid frame of mind passes to serene
content, which he announces by loud purr-

" 77i(r lion retreats to the far corner of the cage, and croucheH there, growling. The
trainer aittt quirtl\i reading a pajter, and vanlin'j glancea at the lion from the corner
of his eye.**

ings. There is nothing a lion so loves as
grooming.

The next step is the plunge. Having be-
come thoroughly accustomed to the stick and
its manipulator by repeated rubbings, Leo is
judged to be in a condition of mind favor-
able to a more intimate association. One
day his cage door is opened and his human
friend steps in, carrying with him a stout
chair, upon which he seats himself. Much
disturbed, not by the man, but by the chair —
which is beyond his comprehension —the lion
retreats to the far corner of the cage, and
crouches there, growling. The trainer sits
quietly reading a paper, and casting glances
at the lion from the corner of his eye. Thus
the situation remains for a couple of hours ;
then the man and his chair depart as they
came, and Leo is left to think it over.

Upon their reappearance the next morn-
ing he has very likely reached the conclusion
that the matter will stand a little investiga-
tion, and he approaches cautiously. The
trainer stretches out toward him the same
stick from which he has experienced that
pleasant grooming; but in its new surround-
ings it rouses his quick distrust, and he re-
treats to his corner. Alarm begets wrath.

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THE TRAINING OF LIONS, TIGERS, AND OTHER GREAT CATS, 391

It is feline nature to dissemble that wrath
until the moment of action. Leo does not
growl or lash his tail. The growling lion is
not to be feared, and the lashing tail is not,
as commonly supposed, an indication of an-
ger, but of good humor. Watch the tail of
a cat while you are scratching her head, and
you will see. It is when the tail stands out
straight and rigid that the trainer begins to
think of retreat. Leo's tail becomes an iron
bar. Perhaps the trainer is warned in time
to slip out at the door ; perhaps not until so
late that he knows he will not have the op-
portunity. Leo glances aside carelessly, and
the next instant,' with open mouth and claws
distended, he is sailing through the air,
straight for the throat of the man, his 800
pounds of sinew and muscle inspired by all
the ferocity of fear and hate.

The man who will not have foreseen that
terrific onset, holding himself ready for it,
has no business with wild animals, and will in
all probability never again attempt any deal-
ings with them. Upon his. agility now de-
pends his life. That chair was not brought
in merely for comfort. It is the best de-
fense possible to the lion's spring. Swift
and apparently unpremeditated as the leap
has been, the man has seen the tenseness of
the muscles that preceded it, and before the
animal has reached him, the stout legs of
the chair are bristling between them. Here
is another problem for Leo. This unknown
thing has suddenly assumed an unexpected
and possibly deadly significance. Snarling,
he drops on his haunches and claws at the
barrier. Out from behind it springs a stick
— the same old stick of his pleasurable mem-
ories, but turned to what base uses now, for
it flicks him soundly on the tip of the nose,
where a lion keeps all his most sensitive feel-
ings ! Again it lands, and the chances are
ten to one that two blows on that tender
spot are enough. Howling with grief and
rage, Leo ceases to claw the chair, an un-
satisfactory proceeding at best, and retires
to his corner, not a little chopfallen. By
the time he has had leisure to consider the
strange occurrence, the trainer is out of the
cage, leaving the chair behind. Now Leo
may do any one or more of several things,
according to the measure of his emotions.
He may glower and sulk in his comer; he
may rant and ramp about his cage, giving
vent to his outraged feelings in loud roars ;
he may go for that leggy chair and dismem-
ber it (not without scars to his own hide,
probably), or he may settle down to think
the thing over calmly, and conclude that he

has made a fool of himself by getting angry
and trying to destroy things before he found
whether there was any harm in them or not.
Eventually, in the great majority of cases,
he will come to the last conclusion ; possibly
passing through all the other phases as inter-
mediate steps to wisdom.

Let us suppose now that the Leo of our
consideration has slept on the problem, and
concluded to be sensible by the next morn-
ing. His repentant frame of mind is shown,
when his trainer appears, by the purr with
which he responds to the invariable greet-
ing. Into the cage steps the man with his
chair and his stick. No longer militant, but
still somewhat timid, the animal keeps over
to his corner. Little by little the man edges
the chair over until he is within reach ; then
he begins to rub the lion with his stick.
Little by little he decreases the distance still
more, by shortening his grasp on the stick,

* Orowling.^*

until finally he has his hand on Leo's shoul-
ders and is petting him. This is the second
great step in advance ; the lion has learned
to endure the touch of the human hand.
Not only does he endure it; he likes it, for
few animals are indifferent to petting. Day
by day the trainer familiarizes the lion with
his presence and touch; rubbing his back,
stroking his shoulders, raising his paws— a
somewhat ticklish trial— and, in the course
of a fortnight after first entering the cage,

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392 THE TRAINING OF LIONS, TIGERS, AND OTHER GREAT CATS,

* The next instant, with open mouth and elateg diaiended, lie ia aailtng through the air, straight for the throat of the man, hi» SMpoundm
oftinevD and muaele inspired by all the ferocity of fear and Aafe."

if the animal be of fairly good temper, so
accustoming Leo to the human presence that
all alarm and -overt enmity have been eradi-
cated.

Beginning at this point, the education of
an animal is simply getting him into certain
habits of action, each one of which is inti-
mately connected with something he sees or
uses. The pupil, when he sees the para-
phernalia of his performance, knows exactly
what is expected of him, and in time will
come to do it readily. The successful per-
formance of all trained animals depends upon
this almost instinctive following of long
established habit, together with the pleasure
the exercise gives to animals habitually con-
fined in small cages. To the ordinary tricks
of following the cues given him by his trainer,
the pupil is trained by being drawn with
ropes from one end of the cage to the other,
or upon his hind feet in response to a toss
of the master's hand. Then he is taught to
jump over a board laid in his cage, and as
the board is raised he leaps higher, until he
is gradually brought to the point of a five-
barred gate. The advance from these sim-
ple movements to the more difficult feats is
simply a matter of intelligence on the part
of the pupil, and patience on the part of the
teacher. For every act there is a definite
cue, and the eager intensity of look so no-
ticeable in performing animals is not fear or
bate, but attention, that they may not lose

the slightest gesture of meaning. The edu-
cation of a highly trained beast extends to
the smallest action, even those which seem
the least premeditated. His growling, his
roar of apparent rage, the unsheathing of
the murderous claws, and the swinging stroke
at the stick that taps him— all these are in
obedience to commands unsuspected by the
audience.

One of the most tedious tricks to teach,
and successful when once learned, is the see-
saw performed by several animals. At first
they are greatly alarmed by the shifting
foundation beneath their feet; but when
they have acquired confidence, they are as
eager for the fun as so many children, and
come running and hustling each other at the
call to reach the board first. The great
diflliculty of teaching animals of different
kinds to perform together is not generally
understood by the public, which fails to ap-
preciate the fact that the lion associating
amicably with the leopard is trained to for-
get his own nature. Great Danes and boar-
hounds are often used to perform with lions,
but not for the protection of the trainer, as
is popularly supposed, as the weakest lion
could destroy the largest dog with one tap.
The dog is useful because of his intelligence
and his friendly instincts toward other ani-
mals. He is usually on excellent terms with
the lion, and encourages him if he is '* rat-
tled," or urges him on if he is backward in

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THE TRAINING OF LIONS, TIGERS, AND OTHER GREAT CATS. 393

his act. The dog id really an assistant
trainer. Equestrian acts, as they are termed,
are about the highest point of animal train-
ing, for both the animal who rides and the
animal who is ridden must be educated to
go through the performance without alarm.

How readily the best trained felines learn
is illustrated by an event which occurred at
Atlanta several years ago. A menagerie
showing there had advertised extensively a
feat of equestrianism by a lion. At the last
moment the lion ** went bad " ; that is, be-
came vicious, and there was no equestrian
act on the opening night. The
public grumbled, and the news-
papers said unpleasant ILings.
There was danger of a
popular outbreak, and
the head trainer of th?
show decided that there
should be an equestrian
act, if the term ** eques-
trian *' can be properly
used where an elephant
is the steed.

He took a three-year-
old lion of exceptional
intelligence, and start-
ed in early one morning
to teach him to ride the
elephant. First he trot-
ted him around the ring

he reached earth, but he was much shaken
and alarmed. Naturally, he sought to sneak
away; but the boar-hound headed him off,
barking encouragingly, and the lion came
back. This time the elephant was swathed
in thick clothe. Over and over again the
lion was made to mount the elephant and
ride, and on the following day the act was
produced before a big audience, and— though
the elephant was nervous, and the lion was
more nervous, and the trainer almost had
nervous prostration — the performance went
off beautifully. But not with one lion in
twenty could such a
result have been
achieved.

More animals are
lost to the stage
through fear than
through viciousness.

" Snarltng, he drops on Ms haunehes and elates at the barrier."

with the elephant, and a big boar-hound who
acted as assistant. After the pachyderm
and the feline had got over their mutual dis-
trust to some extent, the lion was taken up
on a platform and lured upon the broad back
of the elephant by strips of raw meat. There,
however, at an eminence of seven feet six
inches from the ground he became nervous,
and dug a claw into the thick hide, the bet-
ter to maintain himself. Such are the mus-
cles on an elephant's back that it is said he
can shake a flea off any part of it. This
elephant shook, and the lion shot off as if a
catapult had been sprung under him. Feline
agility brought his paws under him before

The show peo-
ple dread a
timid lion, ti-
ger, or leop-
ard, not only
because in its
panic it is
likely to in-
jure the train-
er, but be-
cause it is
unreliable, and
may take
fright and
spoil a per-
formance at any moment from the slightest
causes. An incident at the Porte St. Martin
theater, in Paris, has become part of the an-
nals of the show business. The chief feature
of the exhibition was a ** turn," consisting of
the casting of a young woman securely bound
into a cage of lions, heralded as being the
fiercest and most bloodthirsty of man-eaters.
Unfortunately, the woman who had the
** thinking part'* of the victim was taken
ill, and a substitute was found in the wife
of one of the trainers, herself a trainer of
some experience, but without any acquaint-
ance with these particular six lions. As she
was somewhat nervous, she carried a small

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394 THE TRAINING OF LIONS, TIGERS, AND OTHER GREAT CATS,

club ready for use should occasion arise.
Amid the breathless silence of the specta-
tors, the ring-master explained the ferocious
nature of the lions and the terrible risk of
the woman, and she was thrust in at the
cage door. In the excitement of the occa-
sion the door was not securely shut after

* GMng vent to ttutmytd ferU
ing» in loud nnirt"

her. No sooner was she fairly inside than
the six monarchs of the jungle, seeing that
a strange person had been forced upon them,
raised a chorus of shuddering terror, bolted
for the cage door, clawed it open, and, with
dragging tails and cringing flanks, fled out
through a rear entrance and found refuge in a
cellar, whence they were dislodged only after
great difliculty. It was a week before the
** ferocious man-eaters" were sufficiently
recovered from their terrors to reappear in
public. Animals so timid that confidence
cannot be inspired in them are not used for
any of the higher-class performances, but are
employed only for the simple ** sensational
acts," which often catch the public quite
as much as the more difficult featis, but which
require little education of a definite sort.
In this category is included running around
in a circle to the cracking of a whip, jump-
ing over bars and through hoops, and even
leaping through blazing hoops. For all of
these feats the animal need only be driven,
not led. His fears will supply the motive.
Such animals are never punished by chastise-
ment; a harsh word is enough, and the great
danger is that it may prove too much. It
is a matter requiring from the trainer a high

degree of tact. Nor are the bolder felines
whipped or clubbed to anything like the ex-
tent that is popularly supposed to be the
case. Only when they are stubborn or show
fight do they suflfer. ** Do not punish until
you have to ; then punish hard," is the train-
ing maxim. The apparent lashes with the
whip given during performances, and greeted
with savage growlings from the beasts, are
mere pretenses, part of the daily programme,
and known to the subjects as such. Expert,
indeed, with the whip must the trainer be,
for if one of those sweeping blows shoold go
wrong and land where it hurt some one of
his animals, there might well be a variety of
trouble — not impossibly an attack; almost
certainly a fit of sulks on the part of the
beast struck, while doing his best, that would
put an end to further endeavor by him that
day.

After the animal has learned his lesson
and become expert in his performance, there
still remains the test of a public perform-
ance. This is always a matter of anxiety
for the trainer, as animals suffer from stage
fright. The sight of the crowd is likely to
distract them and draw their attention from
the trainer, so that they lose their cues.
Once thoroughly accustomed to the atmos-
phere of the stage, they seem to find in it a
sort of intoxication not unknown to a species
higher in the organization of nature. In talk-
ing with many men who have put animals on
the stage, I have not found one who does not
state positively that his subjects are aflfected
by the attitude of an audience; that they
are stimulated by the applause of an enthu-
siastic house, and perform laxly before a
cold audience. Music is a stimulus to them.
In many cases it is their principal cue, and
without the strains of the band they are un-
certain and unhappy. It is not long since
the band of an animal show went on strike
in the middle of a performance, and left.
Three trained tigers were the next number
on the programme after the defection of the
musicians. When they came on they looked
inquiringly about for the music, and, in its
absence, two of them squatted down on their
haunches and positively declined to go on.
The third, who was of less experience in the
profession, made a feeble start and then
joined his companions on strike. Beating
was of no avail. No music, no performance,
was obviously the motto of those tigers ; and
they stuck to it through good and evil case
— principally evil, as they got a severe thrash-
ing before being driven oflf in disgrace to
their cages.

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THE TRAINING OF LIONS, TIGERS, AND OTHER GREAT CATS. 396

In association with animals of the feline
species there is an ever-present element of
danger, no matter how well trained they may
be. Every time the trainer in the cage turns
his back he risks his life ; not a great risk,
to be siire, but still there is the chance of
death in a stroke. Yet it is impossible to
keep the eye on half a dozen am'mals in one
cage, and the man must trust to the good
temper of his subjects constantly. Many
beasts — and this is particularly true of lions
— leap at the bars of the cage in a frenzy of
rage the moment the trainer leaves them, as
if furious that they had let him out alive,
yet the next time he enters they are com-
pletely under his dominion none the less.
So excellent is the effect of this fury upon
the thrill-demanding public, that now lions
are trained to this very trick.

What the trainer most dreads is that inex-
plicable change of temperament on the part
of the animal, known in the parlance of the
menagerie as ** going bad." It may come
in the nature of a sudden attack, or it may
be of slow and traceable progress. Some-
times it lasts but a short time, and again it
will remain the permanent characteristic of
the creature, in which case he is relegated
to the lone cage to pass the rest of his life
in comparative obscurity, for the hardiest
trainer will not attempt to work with a brute
in this condition of bloodthirstiness. Lions
are likely to go bad about the tenth year of

life ; tigers two or three years earlier. The
tiger is the dread of the profession when he
reaches this condition, because he is more
likely to go into a frenzy without warning;
and once ** gone bad," his heart is set on
murder, and he will leap for any man within
reach, whether in or out of the cage, and
when his teeth are on the bone nothing short
of fire will impel him to relinquish his hold.
Usually an old trainer can detect the symp-
toms of this curious ailment. It seems to
be somewhat in the nature of a psychical
disease, and other animals recognize it and
shun the affected one. A trainer never
thinks of fighting an animal in this condi-
tion. If attacked, his one object is to de-
fend himself, until he has a chance to escape
from the cage, and as soon as possible to
segregate the sufferer from his fellows.

More minor injuries in the training busi-
ness are received without evil intent on the
part of the animal than in any other way.
For instance, the lion is a clumsy brute at
best, and is at any time liable to misplace
a paw armed with claws that could not be
more effective if they were fashioned from
so much chilled steel. If that paw scrapes
along the leg of the trainer, the unlucky
man goes to the hospital. Again, what be-
gins by accident may be turned to murder-
ous account by the animals. The most per-
ilous thing a man can do in a cage of wild
animals is to lose his footing, for it is more

CHA^ Rl<N»^nr

" Retires to hi* comer, not a little chop/alien.*'

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396 THE TRAINING OF LIONS. TIGERS. AND OTHER GREAT CATS.

f/'

than likely that the moment he falls, the
animals, by some course of reasoning pecul-
iar to themselves, will conclude that his
power is gone and will spring upon him.
An English trainer was almost torn to pieces
once because of a pair of stiff
boot-tops that he wore. One of
his tigers slipped, and swept a
reaching claw around to the
man's leg. It was a purely ac- /

cidental blow, and the tiger,
alarmed, sought to get away;
but the keen claws h^ sheared
through the stiff leather, and
in endeavoring to extricate
them the animal threw his mas-
ter down. Quick as a flash,
the two other tigers in the
cage were upon the prostrate
trainer; and but for the prompt
action of an assistant, who
sprang into the cage and beat
them over the noses with a heavy bar, the man
would never have come out alive. It is a
vital article in the code of every good trainer,
never to lose his temper at an accident of this
kind, or to punish the innocent cause of it.

Sometimes a flash of anger on the part of
the animal, not directed at the trainer par-
ticularly, but just a sort of let-off for an
overcharged temper, may be the cause of
injury. At Philadelphia recently I had an
illustration of how terrible a blow a jaguar
can strike, though fortunately, in this case,
the damage was entirely to inanimate ob-
jects. The animal, a magnificent female,
had been rehearsing some fancy leaping from
shelf to shelf, and as a finale was to jump
from a shelf about seven feet high to a
wooden ball some ten feet distant, and main-
tain herself upon the ball, a most diflicult
and attractive feat. The graceful creature
measured the distance carefully with her
eye, and stretched her lithe neck out toward
the goal for a few moments before essaying
the leap. Then she launched herself. That
leap was a study in beauty of form and grace
of motion; but there was a slight miscal-
culation. The jaguar clung for a moment
to the oscillating sphere; then fell to the
ground, landing on her feet in a crouching
posture. Swifter than the eye could fol-
low, there was a motion of the paw — what
in the prize-ring would be called a left jolt,
I should think — and that wooden ball, weigh-
ing at least twenty pounds, sailed across the
cage and hit the bars with an impact that
shook the structure like an earthquake,
frightening the pair of lions and the leopard

who shared the cage almost out of their
wits. As for the jaguar, she glared fiercely
around to see if the other animals were
laughing, but seeing no evidences of mirth,
slu^ away to one side, where she examined
her paw with an ap-
pearance of solici-
;y.. ^ tude, listening mean-

:.- time to the rebukes

of the trainer with
obvious confusion. It
is the possibility that
at any moment a blow
of that calibre may land on him,
which preserves the trainer from
danger of ennui when engaged
with his pets.

Frank C. Bostock, who by virtue
of many years of experience in hand-
ling wild animals of all kinds has come to be a
sort of adviser and coach of animal trainers,
says that in a very large percentage of cases
injuries suffered from trained animals are the
fault of the trainer. ** Inexperience and
carelessness are the great factors in acci-
dents of this kind, ' ' says Mr. Bostock. * * The
average young trainer is too likely to for-
get that every one of the big cats has five
mouths, as one may say; one in his head,
and four more at the ends of his paws, and
each of those mouths is capable of inflicting
terrible injury. However, we do not place
an animal in the list of bad animals unless
he makes a direct and full attack. Striking
at the trainer with the paws amounts to lit-
tle; it may be even accidental. It is the
spring that counts. Every trainer expects
to be clawed somewhat. It may lay him up
for a while, but he doesn't lay it up against
the beasts. [Mr. Bostock's own arms, legs,
breast, and back are elaborately tattooed
with testimonials from his feline friends of
past years.] But the beast that springs
must be beaten into submission, or the trainer
must escape from the cage as soon as possi-
ble. If the animal really means business, it
is the man's part to get out, for no man can
stand against the strength of a lion or tiger,
or the wonderful agility of a leopard. The
best defense against a charging lion or tiger,
if one has only a club, is to strike the animal
on the nose, hitting up from under; but
this is by no means an easy thing to do, as
the creature will dodge and block with a de-
gree of skill that would do credit to a cham-
pion of the ring. Meantime, however, the
man can have been edging into a position
favorable to escape. The felines jump for
the throat, and an agile man, if he sees that

THE TRAINING OF LIONS. TIOERS. AND OTHER GREAT CAfS. 397

the animal is going to leap, can avoid the
onset and get in a blow that may send his
assailant cringing to the other end of the
cage. No man wlio is not agile has any
business with these brutes. If knocked
down, the man's only chance -is to struggle
to the bars and raise himself; for, on his

the animals, and, cursing and swearing at
them, puts them through their paces with-
out let up. Every animal knows when he is
being overworked, and there is nothing he
resents more bitterly. The animals endure
being * put upon ' for a time ; then, the first
thing the trainer knows, one of them ha^

" Tht aecond great »tep tn advance ; the Hon hna learned to endure the touch of the human hand.

indifferent to petting."

. He liken it, for few animalt are

feet, he has a chance of controlling the ani-
mals ; down, he is completely at their mercy,
and they have no fear or respect for him.
The minute his body touches the floor he
ceases to be the master.

*' A number of bad accidents that have
come under my notice have been ascribable
to drunkenness on the part of the victims.
A half-drunken fellow goes into the cage
with a desire to show ofl^ his mastery over

him pinned, and if he gets out alive it is
more than he deserves. One must bear con-
stantly in mind the possible effect of his
course of action upon the animals he is hand-
ling, and the construction which their rea-
soning, or instinct, or whatever you choose
to call it, is likely to put upon his acts. I
had a severe illustration of that in Kansas
City recently. Owing to an error on the
part of the workmen, Madame Pianka's large p

398 THE TRAINING OF LIONS, TIGERS, AND OTHER GREAT CATS,

cage was misplaced, and I found that her
lions would have to perform in a smaller
one. This change of stage setting is one of
the things that performing animals particu-
larly hate, and she had a good deal of trouble
with them.

** Finally she got them all working in the
smaller cage except one lioness, usually a
good subject, who chanced to be sulky that
day. Coaxing wouldn't move her, so I was
appealed to and went into the cage. After
some difficulty, I got her majesty to go over
her jumps all right, and I kept her hustling
around the ring pretty lively to take some
of the temper out of her. In my hand I
held a riding whip, and, just for a flourish, I
tapped it smartly on the ground. There was
no sense in the action, and if I had thought
twice I wouldn't have done it. Twenty feet
away from me, near Madame Pianka, the
lioness's mate was standing, watching me
with dubious eyes. Probably he thought,
when I tapped the whip on the ground, that
I was laying it on the lioness. Anyway, he
covered the twenty feet in one bound and
pinned me through the fleshy part of the
thigh. Down I went. The lion picked me
up and carried me over to Madame Pianka
for her approval. She had in her hand the
revolver which she uses in her act, and she
flred the blank charge close to the lion's
ear, at the same time catching him around
the neck. That was one of the poses in his
act, and fortunately it caught his mind, and
the force of habit brought him to instant
obedience. He relaxed his hold, giving me
a chance to get to my feet, and I ran him
around the cage three or four times just to
show him that I was still master, and then
went to bed. The teeth hadn't touched the
bone, and I was up and around in three

weeks. By the way, there is nothing in
that theory that a lion's bite is poisonous.
I have been bjtten seven times by felines,
and the wounds have always healed without
any complications."

In talking ^with Mr. Bostock and other
trainers of animals, I have found that all of
them mention judgment, good temper, physi-
cal agility and magnetism, as the requisites
for successfully training wild animals ; but
first, last, and all the time, patience— abso-
lute, unwearying, indestructible patience.
Not one of them mentioned that quality which
would first suggest itself to the lay mind in
this connection — courage. I suppose they
took it for granted that a man who set him-
self to that career would naturally possess
courage. The question naturally arises. How
does it happen that enough persons follow
this perilous pursuit to fill the demand ?
Whence came these animal trainers, and
why do they take this line of work ? In the
majority of cases they come to it by associa-
tion or heredity.

The pay of a successful trainer is good ;
and if he owns his beasts, as is often the
case, he can be sure of a good income.
Then, too, there is the fascination of danger
endured in the public eye. They are aha^-
working lot, these people; and their cour-
age, desperate as it must seem to the on-
looker, is not of the foolhardy sort. Many
of them take even a pessimistic view of the
chances of the profession, borne out pretty
well, however, by the mortality records, and
they understand what the public does not
know— this is true of all the other great cats,
as well as of the lion kind — that the trained
lion is a product of science, but the tame
lion is a chimera of the optimistic imagina-
tion, a forecast of the millennium.

C, -vRK-i^T

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A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS (Concluded).

By Lieutenant-Commander James C. Gillmore, U. S. N.
With Illustrations by W. R. Leigh, prom Sketches and Plans by the Author, and drawn under his

PERSONAL supervision.

STRANGE experiences we Americans had
daring our long wandering as captives
of the Filipinos. Twice we virtually crossed
the great Island of Luzon — starting from
the eastern shore, skirting the west coast
for a considerable distance, and finally
emerging upon the northern ocean. In the
nine months of our captivity, from April to
January, we traveled at least 400 miles.
We saw the interior of the country as no
other Americans had ever seen it. We pene-
trated regions where even the Spanish priest
had never gone. We met the people face
to face; and in our peculiar relations to
them had abundant opportunity to study
their character and customs, and to witness
demonstrations of their racial prejudices and
passions.

Our first taste of genuine native home-
life was in a bamboo hut on the road leading
northward from St. Isidro, the insurgent
capital. For a week we had floundered along
the soft roads, in mud from ankle to knee.
We had forded innumerable streams, the
bridges having been washed away by the
freshets. We had marched day after day
through the rain, but this night the heavens
simply opened ; the air was filled with thick
sheets of wind-driven water; the earth was
covered with a fast-deepening liquid layer.
Even our native guards were wondering
where they were to lay their weary heads,
when, as luck would have it, we waded up an
incline into a huddle of bamboo huts. Into
the best of these I was taken by the Tagal lieu-
tenant who had charge of us. It was nearly
dry in these, and the occupants, the family
of the chief man of the diminutive pueblo,
made us welcome. They set out for us the
best they had.

GOOD and bad FILIPINOS.

Uncertain and changeable as children are
the Filipinos. By Aguinaldo's orders the
civil presidentes of the towns through which
we passed were required to provide food and
shelter for us and our guards. The conduct

of the presidhUes varied greatly, according,
as we thought, to the degree of favor with
which they regarded the prospect of Ameri-
can rule, or their private opinions of the
chances of speedy American occupation.
Sometimes, too, it depended upon the con-
dition of the municipal treasury. As a rule,
we were given money with which to buy
our own f(K>d, and this varied from one and
one-half to twenty cents per day in gold.
Wherever former Spanish oflScers were in
charge we were treated well, and often the
intercession of Spanish prisoners of high
rank secured for us considerate treatment
at the hands of native ofllicials. There is
nothing for which the average Filipino has
such high respect as military rank.

Along the west coast we found the natives
much in sympathy with the Americans. The
people told us they thought the Americans
were sure to triumph in the end, and they
could not see the wisdom of all this sacrifice
of time, men, and women in a fruitless re-
sistance.

There were presidintes good, bad, and in-
difiTerent. At St. Quentin the local dignitary
met us at the outskirts of the town, reviled
us bitterly, and threatened to kill us. But
by this time our men had taken the measure
of these Filipino bravos, and to this one they
replied with jeers and insults which must
have greatly surprised that worthy gentle-
man. On another occasion a Tagal colonel
brandished a dagger over the heads of our
party, and swore most valiantly he was about
to cut our hearts out, boasting that he had
once shut a number of men in a room and
calmly despatched them. Our sailors laughed,
and threw at him a few specimens of Spanish-
American slang, whereupon he dropped his
weapon and slunk away. The threat to kill
became so common that at length we paid
little attention to it. As a matter of fact,
the natives never laid hands ypon us during
the whole time of our captivity, though
they often flogged and otherwise ill-treated
Spanish prisoners. My blood boiled one day
when I saw a Tagal lieutenant, mounted and>

400

A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

• ^aca wn*» *'— f

X » ffVl wi*^'

•^^'^yj

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^ T'd^uiA^^ mt

CunniDg, treachery, and
cruelty are deep-rooted in
the Filipino character. One
of the prisoners in our party
was Frank Stone, of the
United States Signal Corps.
He and a comrade were
walking upon the railroad in
the suburte of Manila when an
unarmed native approached,
begged a cigarette, and
asked permission to walk
with them. Suddenly a num-
ber of confederates sprang
out of the bushes and at-
tacked and overpowered the
two Americans, taking them
prisoners. Of twenty-six
Americans who were in our
party at various times only
ten had been captured in
battle. The others had been
taken through the wiles of
the so-called amigos, or
friendly natives. Private
Curran, of the Sixteenth
United States Infantry, was
snapped up by a party of
these sneaks within twenty
yards of his own outpost.

AMERICANOS" ON SHOW.

FACSIlflLE OF THE ORDER FOR THE IMPRISONMENT OF LIEUTENANT-
COMMANDER GILLMORE AND HIS COMPANIONS AT VIGAN.

FACSIMILE
SEAL ON
BACK OF ORDER.

OF
THE

armed, beating over the
head with a heavy whip a
Spanish soldier who was ill
and had lagged behind the
column.

At one time we had in our
party as many as 600 Span-
ish prisoners, and they were
constantly having trouble
on account of the brutality
of the natives. ** We are
paying off old scores," was the explanation of
the Tagals. A Spanish lieutenant of marines
attempted to escape, and did succeed in get-
ting within two miles of the American lines,
where he was recaptured. He was at once
robbed of nearly all his clothing and his
watch, while the photographs of his wife
and children were torn up before his eyes.
He then disappeared. I made inquiries con-
cerning him, but could learn nothing posi-
tive. I think he was executed.

The Filipinos were inordi-
nately proud of their
* * Americano ' ' prisoners. At
every stop in a town or village we were pointed
out and discussed at great length. On a
number of occasions we were made show of,
apparently for the purpose of impressing the
people with the fact that the much-dreaded
Americans were not invulnerable, as had
been rumored. It appeared to be a common
belief among the simple country folk that,
while it was easy to kill or capture Span-
iards, the '* Americanos" led a charmed
life. To dispel this illusion, the guards had
a way of placing my party, and the eight or
ten of our countrymen who were with us
much of the time, at the head of the march-
ing band of several hundred Spanish pris-
oners ; and as we entered a town or pueblo,
passing between long lines of dark-skinned,
half-naked natives, their eyes bulging with
curiosity from behind the smoke of their in-
evitable cigdrroSy the guards pointed to us
and cried out, ^* Los Americanos! Los
Americanos!'' In this way they made the

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A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

401

onlookers believe the entire straggling, limp-
ing line of prisoners were captives from
among the new and more formidable enemy,
with great increase of respect for the
powers of the native soldiery.

Once we were marched a considerable dis-
tance out of our way, across a river to the
town of Tagudin in South Hocus province,
where the people were not as much in fa-

impression upon the native audience. The
effect upon us was somewhat modified by our
discovery that every recruit had a wooden
rifle in his hands. It was clear that the
Tagals were trying to make soldiers out of
these peacefully inclined Ilocans, and had
nothing better than toy weapons with which
to drill them. It was apparent enough,
too, that we had been marched many miles

vor of the war as the insurgent chieftains through the broiling sun in order to fire the

DmAWK BT w. R. LaoH ArrsA Siuctchu by thb Author.

" /mnm thrown into the twtrltng strtam.'*

thought they should be. It was Sunday,
and apparently our coming had been well
advertised ; for we found a great crowd of
natives, attired in their best clothes, as-
sembled to greet us. They seemed greatly
to enjoy their holiday as the strangers from
across the Pacific were led in triumph through
their streets. Good-humored were their
comments as we passed, and despite the
presence of our Tagal guards, many friendly
salutations reached us from the gay throng.
As we drew up to the convent, we wei*e re-
ceived with much pomp by a company of
recruits. They were put through the manual
of arms in our presence, and handled their
guns quite well, making a most favorable

martial ardor of a people who were naturally
disinclined to war witfi the Americans.

Three months of confinement, ** iwco-
municado^** is what happened to me at
Vigan. It was not pleasant. All that time
I passed in one room, having the upper cor-
ridor of the jail to walk in. The worst of it
was that, while they would not let me out for
exercise, the authorities persisted in making
my apartment a sort of catch-all for tramps
and other temporary prisoners. The only
spot I could call my own waa the one on
which my mattress was spread. At night
the entire floor was occupied by sleeping
men and women. During the^^y the na-

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A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS,

tives sat about and watched me. Their curi-
osity was inexhaustible. The only chance I
had to bathe was behind a manta which I
hung up in a comer of the room ; but when
they heard I was bathing, men, women, and
children came from all parts of the jail to
spy upon me.

TAMING A NATIVE TYRANT.

General Tino, a remarkable man, was in
command at Vigan. Only twenty-three years
old, slender and straight, with a fine head,
piercing black eyes, a voice low but sweet,
he looked for all the world like a bright,
,\\dnsome boy. But he was the military com-
mander of that entire region ; his rule was
one of iron; he was cruel, implacable, a civil
tyrant, a military martinet. .The natives
lived in terror of him. He was ambitious,
too. It was not enough for him to be a
Tifio ; he wanted to be a second Aguinaldo.
General Tino hated the Americans. It was
by his order I was sepM^ted from my men
and placed ** incomunicado,^^ The local
presidhUe told me that but for his influence
General Tino would have had us all shot. I
did not believe him, and supposed he was
merely trying to frighten me. But I said :

** Why does General Tino want to execute
us? It will do*him no good. There are
90,000,000 of people in my country, and the
more you kill the more will come out here
to avenge. If General Tino executes us, he
will do well to get all his women and chil-
dren out of town before the American troops
come. Our men will murder all they find
here and bum the place."

The prendhUe looked at me with wide-
open eyes. He did not understand that I
was simply talking for effect, in hopes of
intimidating Tino through him. He seemed
much impressed by my words, and, suddenly
jumping up, exclaimed, "Buenos di(is, senor/*
and disappeared. I afterward leamed it
was really tme that Tifio had wanted to
execute us, and had been dissuaded by the
appeals of the presidhUe.

Through the kindness of the jailer the
men were occasionally allowed to come to
see me. We talked of various plans for
escape. From our prison windows we could
see American warships steaming up and down
the coast. One of the Spanish ofllcers had
a good glass, and with this we could see the
ships weU enough to be able to make out
their identity. With our countrymen so
near, it seemed doubly hard to remain in the
wretched jail. We were sorely tempted to

make an effort to reach the sea and at
American ship. It would have been sure
death.

In August we were cheered by mmors of
the approach of the American army, and in
early September the excitement among the
natives unerringly indicated the proximity
of our forces. Again the probability of
early rescue by our countrymen drove us
further within the island — again we were on
the march. At Bangued we found a jail
viler than any \te had yet known. The men
were crowded into a small den with a dirt
floor. I had a cell to myself. The roof
leaked and my bed was soaked half the time.
The walls were covered with a green mold.
Enormous rats infested the place. I always
had a heavy stick in my hand when I went
to bed, and had frequent use for it during
the night. In some way the men got hold of
a queer little cat, black as ink, with a short
corkscrew tail. This diminutive animal was
the best native fighter we saw in Luzon; it
killed rats as big as itself.

TEACHING ENGLISH TO THE NATIVES.

We were soon given permission to walk
about the town till eight o'clock in the even-
ing. If we were out after that hour the
jailer assumed responsibility for us and sent
out guards to round us up and bring us in.
I often dined with the Spanish officers, of
whom 200 or 300 w^re prisoners here, and
also with native families, but always found
a guard waiting at the door to escort me
back to jail. Here, as elsewhere, we found
the natives eager to learn our language.
All of our men who knew anything of Span-
ish set out to earn a little money by teach-
ing English. One of them had a class of
ten boys and girls from the best families in
the town, and they proved to be bright,
well-behaved pupils. They met at the house
of a representative in the Filipino Con-
gress, who was himself studying English with
another of our men, as was his brother.

EJarly in November we learned through
the Spanish prisoners that the American
troops were getting the upper hand in the
north. A little later we actually heard the
bombardment of Vigan, twenty-five miles
distant. Then we were told that Vigan had
fallen, and there was tremendous excitement
in Bangued. Families prepared for flight.
Prisoners suspected of being Macabebe spies
were taken out and shot without trial. A
reign of terror existed among all the pris-
oners, among whom there were a number of

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A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

403

Chinese ; and we had not the slightest idea
what our own fate was to be.

Between Vigan and Bangued is a narrow
pass. This the natives h^ carefully forti-
fied, and they did not believe the Americans

civilian alike. There was a mad rush toward
the mountains. At one moment we hoped
the natives might forget all about us in their
eagerness to get away. But in an hoiir
from the receipt of tidings of the American

Drawn bt W. R. Ldgh xrmt Skxtchks by thk Authok.

" There was no thorough/are 9ave along the river-bed.**

could ever take it. They boasted that they
could keep us in Bangued ten years if they
liked, and our countrymen could not rescue
us. The morning of December 5th the
American column took the pass, completely
routing General Tirio and his army. Tiiio
fled to the hills with a handful of men.
Panic now seized all Bangued, military and

victory, we were taken from prison and mus-
tered in front of the presidhie's palace.
Here General Natividad addressed the Tagal
lieutenant who had us in charge. ** If you
have any trouble with your prisoners," he
said, "bring them back to Bangued; we'll
then quickly settle them." We knew only

too well what this meant. (^ r\r\ri]r>
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404

A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

MARCHING TO THE MOUNTAINS.

Again we were on the march, headed for
the mountains. Our guards appeared com-
pletely to have lost their heads. After
walking a few miles along one road we saw
an orderly galloping madly toward us, and
then we were compelled to retrace our steps
or set off in some other direction. T)iis was
repeated several times. All about us were
the frightened native people — a jabbering,
shouting rout of men, women, children, sol-
diers, pigs, chickens. General Natividad and
his staff, crazy wooden carts, bellowing cara-
boo, loads of anununition and rifles carried
in the arms of almost naked conscripts, sick
or wounded men struggling painfully along
and begging in vain for an ox or pony. We
Americans were the only calm ones in all the
throng.

Two days we wandered over hills, through
valleys, across streams, gradually getting
away from the civilian fugitives. On the
afternoon of the second day we had a thrill-
ing experience while fording a stream. Two
of us with our horses tied by a long rope to
a third horse, on which rode a Filipino ofiS-
cer, started across. The Filipino led ; I was
second. The natives on the opposite shore
warned us that we were entering at the
wrong spot; but our Filipino plunged reck-
lessly ahead. We had gone only a few feet
when the Filipino's horse was swept off his
feet by the swift current. and dragged our
two horses in after him.

My horse was turned over, and I was
thrown into the swirling stream. The
plunging and kicking of the frightened ani-
mals added to the <mnger of the situation,
which for some time was critical. The Fili-
pino left us to our fate and swam ashore,
while I attempted to manage the three fran-
tic horses and my poor companion, who
could not swim, but who, clinging desper-
ately to his horse, was swept down the
stream half a mile, and picked up half dead
by natives. At every opportunity we chalked
our names upon the fences or walls, with
arrows indicating the course of our march.
When we had passed beyond the villages
and the tilled country, we continued to
write upon cliffs or bowlders. Our hope
was that by these crude guide-posts the
American troops might be able to follow
and rescue us. In our party was a civilian,
an agent for an American brewery, who had
been captured in the outskirts of Manila
while trying to locate a lost casco of beer.
He was a chap of perennial cheerfulness and

humor; to him the whole adventure was but
a joke. Everywhere he could find a blank
space, he wrote, or had written for him, in
big white letters, ** Drink Blank's Beer on

the Road to H . ' ' We afterward learned

that these roadside inscriptions greatly aided
Colonel Hare and his men in their pursuit of
us. The first time Colonel Hare saw the
beer man's legend upon a rock he ex-
claimed: "Very well; I will follow Gill-
more and his party to if necessary."

He came very near doing it.

IN THE WILDS OP LUZON.

We were now beyond the confines of Fili-
pino civilization. We were nearing the
mountains. Already the road was lifting
higher and higher, and as far as we could
see there were ascents beyond. Obviously
the plan of our escorts was to take us into
a retreat so wild and inaccessible that no
American soldiers should ever attempt to
follow us. They had wisely chosen their
route. We were in a canon cut deep in the
mountain-side. Its walls rose hundreds of
feet aknost perpendicularly. Through the
gorge flowed a swift stream. Here and
there it filled the chasm from cliff to cliff,
and there was no thoroughfare save along
the river bed, forcing our way against the
current, cutting our feet upon the stony
bottom. At firat some of us had horses,
but most of the way the path was so rough
we could only lead them. Finally the horses
could go no further; and as we were all —
guards and captives — nearly starved, we
killed the ponies for food. In spite of the
difllculties of the road, the natives urged us
constantly on. They were so eager to get
further away from the American troops that
they scarcely gave us time to sleep. Near
the head of the canon we ran into a verita-
ble devil's causeway. We could get along
only by crawling over and between great
stones that lay close together; by clinging
to the rock walls with fingers and toes, feel-
ing our way inch by inch, swinging like
monkeys from root to root or from one ledge
to another, the penalty of a single misstep
being a dash to death in the rapids perhaps
a hundred feet below.

By this time we had lost our reckoning of
the days, but it must have been about the
15th of December when we reached the pine-
barrens at the top of the mountain range.
Here one of our men fell, ill and exhausted.
He announced that he could go no further.
Commanded by the Tagals to get up and

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A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

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DmAwx BT W. R. Lnon Arm Bkktchh bt rm Armos.

THE RESCUB.
* We heard a loud ifelt, and around a bend qf the river ^ running rapidlif aeroea the etonif beach, charged a body qf men,**

continue the march, he did make an effort,
advanced a few hundred yards, then fell
again. At this moment another of our men
fainted with fever. I begged the Tagal
lieutenant to leave the sick men in charge
of two of our party to rest till we could send
back food for them. He refused. In a few
moments he informed me through the inter-
preter that unless the exhausted men at once
resumed the march he would have them shot.

WHITE MEN STAND TOGETHER.

I looked at my American comrades one
after another. The light in their eyes was

enough. Without words we understood, we
Anglo-Saxons. Instinctively we gathered
round the invalids lying there upon the sand.
We were weak ; we had no weapons. But
each man of us knew what he had to do.
The Tagals drew a little apart, and talked
among themselves. At any moment we ex-
pected the signal that should bring on the
unequal combat — empty-handed men spring-
ing like tigers, desperate from long suffer-
ing, at the throats of armed barbarians.
Many of us were sure to fall, perhaps none
of us should escape. But better that than
abandonment of our sick comrades. The
Tagal officer made an unusual motion with

406

A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

his right ann. We thought it a signal for
the skughter. But it was not. The lieu-
tenant 1^ himself been suddenly taken ill.
He was calling for assistance. He, too,
lay down upon the sand and begged for
water. That danger had passed.

By the time the officer was ready to go
on, our men were strong enough too. The
remainder of that day we advanced by easy
stages. We were now in the mountain
woods. For twenty-four hours we had noth-
ing to eat, and most of the day we could find
no water. We were afraid to eat fruit or
roots, not knowing which were poisonous.
Honeyman, of the First Nevada Cavalry,
was carrying a pet monkey in his arms, and
we tried some roots and berries on the little
beast. But he was not infallible. He ate
voraciously of a root which much resembled
a potato; and as he appeared to like it, one
of the men followed suit. Both man and
monkey were made violently ill, and for a
time we feared both would die. They soon
recovered.

Soon we came to the headwaters of a river
flowing to the east, and followed it down
through more wild gorges, so narrow that
we could barely force our way along. It-
was after dark before we reached an open
space where there was room to camp'. This
was a pebbly beach, with rocks frowning all
about: us. We were exhausted, famished.
There was nothing to eat, so we drank our
fill of river water and lay down upon the
ground to sleep. For the first time since
we had been on the march, the Filipino lieu-
tenant separated his camp from ours. He
also doubled his guard, stationing his sol-
diers in the rocks which surrounded us.
Thii^ing all this somewhat peculiar, I sent
one of the men to ask if he had placed the
guards for our protection. * * No ! * ' was his
laconic answer. Soon afterward he came
himself to our camp, and through an inter-
preter calmly informed me that he had orders,
presumably from General Tino, to execute us
in the mountains.

A THREATENED EXECUTION.

He paused here. For fully a minute not
a word was spoken, but every man of us
thought hia time had come — we had marched
all these dreary miles only to be shot down
like dogs at last. Filipino rifles looked
down upon us from every rock — resistance
would be useless.

Then the lieutenant spoke again. Though
he had been ordered by his superiors to kill

us, his conscience would not permit him to
do so. Instead, he would abandon us there
in the mountains. He added a word of en-
couragement to the effect that American
troops were near at hand, but we did not
believe him. How could troops, carrying
equipment and ammunition, follow us in a
country like that ? I told the lieutenant it
would be more humane to kill us where we
stood, for if he abandoned us we should
either die of starvation or be murdered by
the savage tribes. He replied that his mind
was made up, and that he should leave us.
I asked him to let us have two rifles for pro-
tection against the savages, and offered to
give him a letter which, should he fall into
Ameijcan hands, would not only insure his
safety, but bring him reward. He hesitated
for some time, but finally declined. Then
he and, his men broke camp and disappeared
in the moonlight. We were alone in the
wilderness.

SAVED BY A CRUCIFIX.

I have always believed that the lieuten-
ant's refusal to obey orders and execute us
was due to the effect produced in his mind
by an incident which had occurred a night
or two earlier. At one of our stops he had
shown me a crucifix which he wore hung by
a ribbon about his neck, ^nd said to me :
" The 'Americanos ' are not Christians."
** Oh, yes," I replied, '* all the Americans
are Christians."

** But you never wear any crucifixes."
I opened my jacket and showed him my
breast. A crucifix had been tattooed there
years ago, when I was a midshipman. The
Tagal leaped to his feet with an exclama-
tion of surprise. He instantly crossed him-
self. His eyes nearly started out of his
head. I explained to him that any one could
buy a crucifix and hang it round his neck,
but that I had endured pain to have my cru-
cifix pricked in the flesh, and that, as he could
see, it must always be with me. There was
a marked change in his manner toward me
after this.

We lay down to sleep that night with de-
spair in our hearts. There was not a man
among us who thought we should find a way
of escape from the perils which beset us.
But we were still alive, and a ray of hope
soon returned. I do not think any of us
slept much. I know I did not, for I was
thinking, planning all the night through how
we might yet cheat fate. There was some-
thing exhilarating, too, in the consciousness

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A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

407

that we were again our own masters — that
we were free. If we only had a rifle and a
few cartridges, and if there was game in the
forest ! I then remembered we had a large

and a small battle-axe, also a bolo, which
we had taken from one of the abandoned
huts. With these, ingenious men might do
something in the way of securing food ; we
might even protect ourselves against the
savages, should worse come to worst. But
where were we, and in which direction shonld
we move ? 1 judged we had crossed the
mountain range and struck a river flowing
either into the
eastern or north-
ern sea. Could
we not follow it
to its mouth ?
Why not build
rafts and trust
to the current ?

dience. Revived by anew hope, we at once
set to work. First, we must find a bamboo
grove where we might secure material with
which to con-

s true t our
rafts. After
crawling and
clambering
several miles
in the direc-
tion which the
Tagals had
taken, up

Drawn bt W. r. Lkioh attkr Skktches bt niK Atthor.

*• yiijing ftnirn through the unknown rtiJlona, Ju»t mln»ing Itou^dert, thooitng

from 9tde to tide . . . never quite aure that a oataraet dfd not Uejunt

be/ore u».*'

The next morning we did have the shadow
of a breakfast, for one of the men had
secured some rice from a friendly guard.

PLANNING AN ESCAPE.

To my surprise, the men all seemed cheer-
ful. I outlined my plan to them, and they
unanimously approved it. They elected me
their commander and promised implicit obe-

steep hills, down
into reedy val-
leys, through
thick brush-
wood, we came
to the river
again ; on one side of the stream
was an open, stony space of per-
haps half an acre, and on the
other the bamboo grove which we
had sought. But now a new dan-
ger appeared. In the tall grass
just beyond the open space we saw
a number of natives. They were
armed with spears, battle-axes,
shields, bows and arrows. Fear-
ing an immediate attack, we camped
in the center of the clear ground.
If the natives came down upon us,
we were resolved to fight them
with stones, disarm some of them if
we could, and then turn their own
weapons against the remainder.
For a short time we stood waiting; but the
natives remaining quiet, and we having no
time to lose, I divided the party in two,
sent ten across the river to cut bamboo,
and stationed sentries who might give us
warning in case of danger.

That night we slept well. Life was worth
struggling for, after all. Desperate as
seemed our chances of escape, we had made
a start with our preparations. We were at

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408

A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS,

work. We felt the exaltation of achieve-
ment, slight as it was. Besides, there must
have been something inspiring to ns, sailors
nearly all, in the prospect of taking to the
water again, even though our craft were
rickety rafts navigating a tortuous, turbu-
lent stream through the very heart of the
unknown wilds.

THE RESCUE.

Next morning we were up early. Some
of us were tillering at the rafts; others
were cooking the morning nieal. We heard
a loud yell, and around a bend of the river,
running rapidly across the stony beach,
charged a body of men. We dropped our
work, and some of us cried out, ** The sav-
ages! The savages!" Instinctively we
began picking up stones with which to de-
fend ourselves. Another yell from the ad-
vancing squad, and it seemed to me there
was something familiar about it. The tones
vibrated in my soul. I felt my flesh flush
hot; my heart acted queerly; my muscles
were a-twitching. A third yell ! Yes, those
are the voices of our countrymen ; and now
we were able to see the blue shirts and yel-
low khaki of the American soldiers as they
swung down the beach.

** Americans, lie down ! " they cried, rush-
ing nearer and nearer. They thought we
were under guard, and wanted us to get out
of harm's way in case of battle. Heeding
not their cries, we leaped toward them. We
held out our hands; we embraced one an-
other, rescued and rescuers. They eyed us
curiously, because we were so pale, weak,
and disheveled. We felt like children who
had escaped danger and reached our father's
knee. It seemed good to get close to them,
to feel their strength, their protection.
Colonel Hare put his arm around me, and
I didn't want him to take it away. He
called for three cheers for us. His lusty
men woke the echoes there among the rocks.
Their manly voices made music in our ears.
I asked my men to cheer the soldiers : the
volume of sound was now thin and weak by
contrast, but the hearts of a score of grate-
ful, happy fellows were in it. For some time
we stcMod thus, shaking hands, exchanging
inquiries, cheering now and then. I remem-
ber the regret I felt because I could not yell
louder.

After the enthusiasm had to some degree
subsided, my men and I were placed upon
an immense bowlder that had rolled down
from the mountain and rested near the tawny

stream. At that moment I saw our friends
the natives disappearing in the shady dis-
tance. One of the sailors pulled from his
breast a -small American flag which he and
his comrades had made of pieces of red,
white, and blue calico, purchased by dint of
economy from their subsistence money.
He tied the ensign to a stick, and passed
it to me. As I raised the stars and stripes
aloft from my perch upon the top of the
bowlder, another mighty cheer went up.
Lieutenant Lipop had a kodak with him,
and just one film which he had saved for
this very occasion.

THE soldiers' STORY.

Then we sat down to have a real break-
fasts The officers and soldiers shared their
rations with us— hardtack, bacon, bean
soup, tea. That was all, but for us it was
a feast. Our rescuers laughed till they
cried as they sat watching us eat and en-
couraging us to take more. Of course we
were eager to learn how they had been able
to find us, and little by little they told us
the story. I had not known Colonel Hare's
father. Judge Hare, in Washington, but the
last thing the old gentleman said to his son
when the latter sailed for the Philippines in
March was: ** Find Gillmore — find Gillmore
and send him home. ' ' The colonel had always
borne in mind his father's injunction, but it
was not till December that he struck our
trail. That was at Vigan. Colonel Hare
and Lieutenant-Colonel Howze were ordered
to follow the insurgents toward Bangued,
and when this place was taken the Spanish
prisoners told them how the natives had
started us off to the mountains. Pursuit
was instantly begun, but Colonel Hare could
learn nothing of the direction in whj^h we
had gone. For three or four days Colonel
Hare and Howze and their men marched
from village to village north of Bangued,
seeking news of us. Finally they came
upon one of the beer man's legends chalked
on a cliff, and with a shout the column
started after us. By this time so many of
the soldiers were ill through heat, exhaus-
tion, and scant rations that it became neces-
sary to call for volunteers. Every officer
and man able to stand upon his feet offered
to leap into the wilderness. Colonel Hare
picked 150 men, and in light marching or-
der, carrying almost nothing but rifles and
ammunition, struck into the mountains.
How they managed to follow us, how they
climbed, crawled, pushed, swam, fought

A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

409

DK4WM BT "W. K. XiBaH ATrSB 8KCTCHB8 BT THS AUTESIQ.

THE PROmSBD LAND.
* We rounded a tharp curve, and thrtfugh a narrow pass . . . Juat oArarf trr could tee a beautiful ralley.*^

their way through canons, streams, forests,
and jungles, encumbered as they were with
weapons and camp equipment, must ever re-
main a mystery to me. But they did it, and
as an American sailor I take off my cap to
the American soldier ; no more gallant lad
than he walks the earth.

How to escape from the mountain fastness
and reach the sea was the problem which
now confronted us and which we most ear-
nestly discussed. We agreed that it would
be almost impossible to retrace our steps,
and that the best way would be to follow
the plan which I had already adopted—build
rafts and trust ourselves to the river. So
we at once set to work. The soldiers built
more rafts, and soon our ** bamboo navy,"
as we called it, was ready for the voyage
further within the unknown country of the
foe. There were thirty or forty rafts, each
about twenty-five feet long and five or six feet
wide, and carrying from three to four men.
Camp equipment and guns were stacked up
amidships, and at either end a man with a
long bamboo pole was stationed.

It was December 18th that we set out
upon the strangest voyage of my experience.
The river was deep, the current was swift,
the bed was filled with huge bowlders, much
of the time the stream ran through a nar-
row canon whose walls rose precipitously
from the water's edge to a height of 200
feet or more Here and there were breaks
in the rocky walls — pebbly beaches reaching
back into sloping groves of lofty palms,
lemon, cocoanut, and banana trees, all half
smothered in luxuriant tropical undergrowth.
Flowers and birds were plentiful. The colors

of the landscape, the white rocks contrast-
ing vividly with the deep green, and blossom-
ing trees dotting the hillsides with brilliant-
hued clusters, were beautiful in our eyes.
Further back rose range on range of lofty
mountains. In nearly all of these open
places we found native huts, most of them
deserted by their owners at our approach.
Finding nothing in the huts, we were com-
pelled to go into the patches of rice and har-
vest for ourselves, pounding the grain in pig-
troughs or whafever receptacle we could get
hold of. Before some of these huddles of
humble huts we found the natives assembled,
showing signs of friendliness ; and from those
we were careful to take nothing we did not
pay for. They brought us food, and in ex-
change we gave them money, buttons, bits
of gilt braid, and safety-pins.

Navigation of this river was hazardous
enough to please the most adventurous.
The current swept us rapidly along— a great
flotilla of awkward rafts manned by nearly
naked, excited men. Now big bowlders
rose before us, right in the center of the
stream. Spray was flying all around them.
The waters were boiling, seething over the
stony rapids. ** Steady! steady!'* shouted
the steersman on the foremost raft, and
every man with pole in hand prepared for
trouble. **Easy — easy!" cried the leader
to his mate, and the bamboo poles were
worked to starboard. ** Now let her have
it — now!" and in a twinkling the poles
swung over to the port side, the leading
raft just missed destruction upon the great
rock, danced into the spray, disappeared in
the mist of the shadows beyond, and then p

410

A PRISONER AMONG FILIPINOS.

from its pilots came back the reassuring
shout, heard above the gurgle of the waters,
'* All right! Swing well out!" So raft
after raft, skillfully guided by our men,
leaped through the dangers and came out
wet but sound in the pools below.

We were not always so lucky. Now and
then a raft went crash against a rock, and
men and cargo were thrown off into the tor-
rent. Scarce a day passed without some
heroic rescue. Captain Burroughs, the regi-
mental adjutant, saved a Chinaman's life at
the risk of his own. Frank Stone, of the
Signal Corps, leaped into the stream and
brought out a sergeant who had been stunned
against a rock. I do not know whether it
was courage or recklessness that sent us
flying down through the unknown canons,
just missing bowlders, shooting from side to
side as the swift stream turned its course,
always in danger of shipwreck or upset, and
never quite sure that a cataract did not lie
just before us. Whatever it was, we did it ;
and rare sport it proved to be for those
who were strong enough to take a hand in
it. As for me, I was too weak and ill to do
much but lie amidships and admire the nerve
and skill of my pilots.

Losses of rafts were by no means uncom-
mon. One day we lost ten, including the
arms, clothing, and equipment of the men
who were upon them. Christmas Day, Colo-
nel Hare ordered a stop foi' the purpose of
rebuilding our flotilla. Half the men were
set at work cutting bamboo sticks and lash-
ing them together, while the others gathered
and pounded out rice. For our Christmas
dinner we had rice, wild sugar-cane, and a
few cocoanuts. By this time fully half of
the men were without trousers or shoes.
Many of them had fever, due to the ex-
posure to water and sun and lack of pro-
per nourishment. Nearly every one had
swollen or wounded feet. Food was scarce
these days, and we hastened on as rapidly
as we could. Three days after Christmas
two of the soldiers were taken down with
measles; we rigged up beds for them
on the rafts. Our prospects were gloomy
enough now. For ten days we had been
floating down this stream. Should we never
reach civilization ? How much further was
it to the sea?

The evening of December 29th we rounded
a sharp curve, and through a narrow pass
in the mountain range just ahead we could
see a beautiful valley. It was the promised
land ; we had left the wilderness behind. In
the distance on the river bank stood a small

house; before it a bamboo cross, and upon
the cross a small white flag. This signal of
welcome sent a thrill through our hearts.
Getting a little nearer, we saw under the
cross a native, and all about him peace-offer-
ings composed of baskets of rice, tobacco,
cocoanuts, and sugar-cane. The men cheered
half-hysterically.^

We passed the night at this village, where
the natives were kind and hospitable. Next
morning, with glad hearts, we set out for
the sea, which they told us was four days
distant. A level plain surrounded us; the
mountains from which we had escaped rose
dark and high in our rear. The river be-
came wider, but the current was still swift,
and there were many snags in the channel,
making the navigation difficult. In one ship-
wreck Private Day, suffering with the mea-
sles, was thrown into the water; he died
next day, and we carried his body with us.
Lieutenant-Colonel Howze and a number of
scouts now took canoes and started on for
the sea, to summon assistance, the remainder
of us following more slowly. The last night
of the year we passed at a little village, where
the people took us into their homes, out of
the rainstorm, and gave us a good supper of
chicken, rice, and pork. Early the next
morning native boatmen took us in their
large kincas, holding from twenty-five to
thirty men each, and pulled us to Abulug,.
where we were met by Lieutenant McNamee
and Assistant Paymaster Dyer, of the United
States ship ** Princeton." This ship was
anchored off Aparri, ten miles away, and
her commanding officer. Commander Knox,
had been informed by Lieutenant-Colonel
Howze of our whereabouts. We buried Pri-
vate Day in the churchyard of the cathedral
of Abulug. The morning of January 3d we
were all placed in carts drawn by bulls and
taken across to Aparri. As we approached
the town, our little American flag flying from
the first cart, a detachment of sailors and
marines were drawn up to receive us. They
met us with cheers, and in a few moments
we were again on the deck of an American
ship after nearly nine months of captivity
and wandering.

Two days later we were at Vigan. When
Colonel Hare and his men stepped ashore.
General Young met them. He shook hands
with the colonel and exclaimed :

** God bless you. Hare. God bless you
all. It was noble work ; it was grand. And,
Hare, I have recommended you and Howze
for brigadier-generals, and all the officers
and men for medals of honor."

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A COMEDY OF REBELLION.

By Clinton Ross.

THE Earl of Rendell was one of the globe-
trotting race ; and when, through his
marriage with Miss Mary Churchill of New
York, his estate was restored, he was en-
abled to gratify to a nicety every whim in
this direction. The Rendells went from Dan
to Beersheba, and so it chanced that they
turned up at San Fernandez during those
events that are now a matter of the spas-
modic history of that Central American Re-
public. Lady Rendell was accompanied by
her sister, Miss Louise Churchill, lately en-
gaged to Stephen Wharton of Baltimore ; by
his man Simpson, and Lady Churchill's maid,
who fell ill of the fever, and whose services
were supplemented by those of a Spanish-
American girl called Gloria. The English
Consul at San Fernandez happened to be at
this time the Right Honorable James Forsyth,
who was a warm friend of the Earl, and the
party put up at the Consulate.

with young women.

This building faces the Cathedral, dating
from the seventeenth century, and contain-
ing some excellent relics of Spanish colonial
times, and a very good organ. That organ
woke Miss Churchill at dawn, and put her to
sleep at night. The organist seemed to be
always playing, and the people always at
their devotions.

San Fernandez is in every way a fine ex-
ample of old New Spain— its streets, its
varied population, its queer little soldiery,
its Court, that of the President Seiior Don
Jos§ Gonzales, who had established himself
through a successful revolution. Lady Ren-
dell had met the President's wife in Paris,
and so she called on her, and the Senora
Gonzales was pleased to return the call ;
and the ladies saw much of society in a
Spanish-American capital. Then they wan-
dered about the place and collected things.

But Louise Churchill, for reasons of her
own, was not in the best of spirits. The
truth of the matter was that she had been
fond of a certain Christopher Bates, who
had flirted atrociously with a certain widow,
and to spite him she had engaged herself to
Stephen Wharton, as is sometimes the way

'WHEN SHE CAME TO HERSELF ,
HER SALTS, WHILE GLORIA,
PANNmO HER."

DEEP

LADY RENDELL WAS .
SYMPATHY IN HER DARK

• . .OfPNG
EYbS, WAS

At once she found she
had been spiting her-
self ; and she never
felt this so much as
when, coming into the
Consulate one day
from the cool re-
cesses of the Cathe-
dral, she heard, as
she entered, some
passages of the old
Comedy.

The girl Gloria was
talking to a little man
in a sergeant's uni-
form. Miss Churchill
understood Spanish
very well, and in nar-
rating this little drama
I will make no distinc-
tion between tongues.
She heard the little
sergeant : ^<-^ t

....dzedbyV^OOgle

412

A COMEDY OF REBELLION.

"Gloria, mine I*'

" Ah, Jo^ Rubino, was the song under my
window last night for Theresa ?"

"The little coquette!" thought Miss
Churchill.

"There are Theresas and Theresas," Ru-
bino replied fervently ; " but of Glorias **

" But one, I suppose," said the girl.

At this Rubino tried to get her hand,
but she pushed him away, and seeing Miss
Churchill she became very demure, while
Rubino hastened out of the door.

" Your lover, Gloria ? " Miss Churchill said.

"He thinks he is, Senorita. But who
knows? Yet he is a very good fellow and
very prominent. He has charge of the guard
at the prison."

Miss Churchill sighed, gave the girl some
silver, and went to her room with a headache.

A few days after, there came rumors of
an uprising of a certain Mendez against the
President's authority ; and then with the sud-
denness of a tropical storm came the events
of the day of this drama, which Miss Churchill
was never to forget.

She heard of it first at breakfast. The
army of the rebellion, led by two English
adventurers, were at the gates of the old
walled town, and even now she heard the
roaring of cannon. She clapped her hands.

" Why, this will be jolly — a real siege."

"You'll be safe here," said the Consul, a
fair-haired man of forty. He was a widower,
and had felt for some time that he was sure
to fall in love with this interesting woman.

" Oh, yes, we are quite safe, quite safe,"
Lord Rendell said, with perfect faith in the
flae that waved above him.

' Still, I should like to have an English or
American ship in the harbor," Lady Rendell
remarked.

*' Why, Mary, they don't do anything ;
just run about, and shout a great deal. I
have heard all about it," Miss Churchill put in.

" I have warned the President," said For-
syth, " and he has a wholesome respect for
our guns."

"Oh, Louise," Lord Rendell remarked, "I
was looking over the last American paper,
and I saw the engagement of that fellow
Bates to the little widow. Funny things,
those American * Society Notes/ "

Rendell dearly liked to tease his sister-in-
law, who said nonchalantly, " Oh, indeed ; "
but she leaned low over the coffee.

The Cathedral bell began to toll, accentu-
ating the roll of guns, while cries from the
street reached them.

" I have much to do," Forsyth said, rising ;

" much. So I must be going. You all must
keep close to the house."

A servant at this moment appeared at the
door.

"Pardon, Excellency, His Highness the
P^resident to see your Excellency."

" Wonder what the old duffer wants of me
— our protection, perhaps.**

And he went out to his office, Rendell fol-
lowing him. The ladies at the window saw
a little row of soldiers and the President's
carriage.

Presently Rendell returned, all excitement.

" Forsyth is acting for Blunt, the American
Consul, in his absence," he said. "The Presi-
dent doesn't want to offend us, you may fancy.
He has captured three men, and purposes to
shoot 'them, because he thinks they are two
Englishmen who are directing Mendez's army.
Now, this is the most extraordinary coinci-
dence."

Lord Rendell lacked tact to the supremest
degree. "Do you recognize the writing T**
and he handed Lady Rendell a piece of dirty
paper.

* Let me see," said Miss Churchill, looking
over her sister's shoulder, and then she grew
pale.

" If s very like Kit Bates's writing. Yes,
it's his signature."

" Yes, it is," cried Lady Rendell.

They had read :

To the American or Engliih Ckmtul. — We are two
Americans, landed from the yacht '* Briinnhilde,'' New
York Yacht Club, at Point del Norte. We did not
know of the distiirbanceB and were arrested as two
Englishmen engaged in the rebellion, and are now
lodged in prison, expecting every moment to be shot,
as we have seen it done to twenty other prisoners.
We ask your protection.

Chbistopher Bates.

"The old chap thought that, if they are
as they represent themselves, we would pull
down his old town about his ears. I knew
you would know the writing. And it's that
fellow Bates. Extraordinary, by Jove ! "

And then Miss Churchill knew no more,
for she had fainted. When she came to
herself, she was on her own bed, and Lady
Rendell was holding her hands and giving
her salts ; while Gloria, deep sympathy in her
dark eyes, was fanning her. From outside
came the noise of tumult.

"What is all that noise?"

" They are fighting in the streets."

"Oh, I remember, and ? "

" Bertie has no more tact than a porcu-
pine or he would have known-

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A COMEDY OF REBELLION.

413

Drawn by Thomat FoQarty.

'MISS CHURCHILL, STANDING ON THE CONSULATE BALCONY, SAW A WILD-EYED PRIEST COME OUT OP
THE CATHEDRAL . . . WHILE A CROWD OP POOR POLK THRONGED ABOUT HIM."

"What?"

" What I know, dear. But he is all right,
dear. They wouldn't dare hurt them."

"And James Forsyth hasn't got them
out ?" the girl asked.

"They can't get to the prison, dearest,
but it vrill only be a little time. Don't
worry, only lie still until you get your nerves
together ; thaf s a good girl. I will leave
Gloria to look after you for a few moments."

Miss Churchill tried to lie still after her
sister had gone, then suddenly the organ
pealed from the Cathedral, above the noise.

"They are praying in there, Miladi,"

Gloria said. " The church is crowded with
people who are afraid."

And then, after some moments, she went
on :

"Miladi?"

"Yes."

" You love him." She forgot herself.

*' Yes, Gloria."

" I knew it, Miladi, as I love Jos6 Rubino,
who is here."

"How comes he here, when ?"

" Humph ! Miladi, Jose would be shot for

no President — only for me. He ran away ;

but, Miladi " O r\r\n\o

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414

A COMEDY OF REBELLION,

"Yes."

** I can send him back to the prison. He
has the keys to a little back gate, and he can
get them here."

"He can — but he does not want to be
shot ! " Miss Churchill cried in wonder.

"It would be for me — not for a Presi-
dent," said the girl, shrugging her shoul-
ders. " And, Miladi, I love you."

Miss Churchill took the girl into her arms
and kissed her.

" But I am not more to you, Gloria, than
Jos6 Rubino."

"I love you, Miladi."

Miss Churchill walked rapidly to and fro.
She looked at the girl and kissed her again.
The situation made her desperate. It was a
chance, and he might be shot at any mo-
ment.

" Gloria, if you do this you shall have a
hundred American dollars, and you and Jos6
may be with me always.
But can I ?"

" Miladi," said the girl,
quickly, "don't think of

*AF, THESE FOOLS OP ENGLISH !"

me. I love JosS now, but I have had Qther
lovers."

She spoke with an air of pride that left
Miss Churchill smiling.

" Oh, I see. Poor Jos6. But you will re-
ward him."

"Certainly, Miladi."

To Gloria's eyes Miss Churchill saw she
was like an angel, and Jos6 only like a lover.
" And, besides, we can't marry without
money,, Miladi," the girl continued.

"You shall have money — ^just for the
offer, Gloria. And, Gloria— send him— send

him. But, Gloria "

She remembered what she had read that
morning of Bates's engagement to the hor-
rible widow.
"Yes, Miladi."

"No one must know that I ever made
you do it. Swear by the Christ there, over
the Cathedral door."

"I swear, Miladi."
_ " Send him, then, Gloria,"

Miss Churchill said, quickly.
" Oh, what have I done ! "
she cried, when the girl
had gone.

The tumult had died.
Rumor had it the fight was
going the President's way.
Forsyth, the Consul, was
bury and nervous. Anglo-
Saxon interests were in his
hands. But he had only
Ihs sentiment the flags in-
spired, and no war vessel to
enforce his demands.

Miss Churchill, standing
on the Consulate balcony,
saw a wild-eyed priest come
out of the Cathedral and
raise his hands high, while
a crowd of poor folk
thronged about him. His
voice was raised in deep
earnestness.

" For the God of peace
bringeth battle, and the
God of battle, peace. And
lo, he is one God, the God
of all nations."

And the organ pealed in
low response against the
sound of distant fighting.

A messenger ran Into
the office of the Consulate.

"The American cruiser
'Triton' is in^he harbor."

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A COMEDY OF REBELLION.

416

" Thank God ! *' cried the Consul. " We
will have a Scotch on that, Rendell."

In the servants' quarters Gloria was
talking to her lover, the little Sergeant
Rubino.

"The Virgin be thanked, Jos6 mine,
that you are not shot. The English
Miladi — what a fool is she to thmk I
would send you out to get a bullet. But
we have our marriage portion, Jos6 mine.
Ah, these fools of ^glish."

The boyish ensign who commanded the
blue- jackets that patrolled the streets of
San Fernandez was in the saloon of the
English Consulate that evening. And
there were Mr. Christopher Bates and his
friend Mr. Niles, and Lady Rendell, and
the others. The little ensign was quite
your hero, though he didn't so consider
himself at all. He had made a little
charge and cleared the streets; and lo,
the rebellion and its threat to foreign
interests had ceased, as if by magic — the
magic behind the good ship "Mton's"
guns.

Miss Churchill was fidgeting, and went
out on to the veranda, where the moon
streamed peacefully and sentimentally.

What if he knew ? What if Gloria had
told?

Bates followed her.

" It's odd, isn't it — our meeting here ?"

"Very."

" And all this little fiasco of a rebellion."

"Quite ridiculous and interesting.
But how could you leave Mrs. Chester so
long ? " she asked.

*^You read that?"

" Yes, and I congratulate you."

" And I you — on yours."

" Oh, do you — do you ? Thank you."

It was very hot. What if Gloria had
told? What if he knew how she had
fainted?

"But -"

"Well?"

" It was only a newspaper report, Louise,
and I am down here on the * Briinnhilde.' I
heard you had broken with Wharton, and I
wish to Heaven those chaps had shot me if
you are going to send me away," the young
fellow blurted out.

She turned to him and put both her hands
in his.

"Christopher Bates, you are the very
nicest person I know — and — and — ah, what
makes you make me tell you ? Yes, I do
love you, and I have been so miserable."

That night Gloria asked her mistress:

'it's odd, isn't it — OUR MEETING HERE?'*

" And the marriage portion, Miladi ? "

"Gloria," Miss Churchill cried, "you shall
have a thousand American dollars — not a
hundred — and the prettiest wedding San
Fernandez can furnish."

" You are an angel," quoth Gloria ; and
she told it all over to the Sergeant Rubino
in high glee.

So, through the rebellion of Mendez were
these two love affairs brought to their
proper end, and President Gonzales ruled in
San Fernandez until he decamped with the
treasury. Since that occurrence he has re-
Bided in Paris. ^.^.^.^^^ ^^ GoOglc

THE LAST CHARGE.

By Thomas Tracy Bouvfe.

RUMPETER, blow on, terrific and thunderous,
Blow till thy bugle outring the wild gales;
Spare not the wounded that writhe and wind under us,
Drown in our ears all their piercing death wails.
Steady, dragoons ! Get together your forces ;
Aim at the breast, for that makes the best targe.
Now let us fly like a whirlwind of heroes —
Ride like your forefathers! Cavalry, Charge!

Trumpeter, sbund me a dread note and dangerous ;

Blow to the end of thy desperate breath!
Blow till the cry of it, clinging and clangorous.

Call back the squadrons that rode to their death.
Close up, dragoons ! and ride forward the guidon.

Trumpeter, blow me once more, loud and large !
This is not earth, but dead men, that we ride on —

They were your brothers once ! Cavalry, Charge !

Trumpeter, sound a note tender and tremulous ;

Wail for those lost to us, sob for our dead !
Cry loud for vengeance ! Oh, let your note, emulous,

Rival the roar of the souls that have fled !
Ready, dragoons ! Ye are fifty that follow ;

Burst as a river bursts over its marge !
Who first can fling his horse into their hollow ?

On, up and over them ! Cavalry, Charge !

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AN HISTORIC SALE OF UNITED STATES BONDS IN

ENGLAND.

By Hon. Georgb S. Boutwell,

Ez-Secretary of the Treasury.

IF there should be any considerable interest
in the history of the funding system of
the United States, the interest would be due
to a sale of bonds some thirty years ago
and certain incidents which could not have
been anticipated, which arose from the exe-
cution of the trust.

In the month of July, 1868, a bill for fund-
ing the natipnal debt which had passed the
Senate of the United States was reported, with-
out amendments, to the House of Representa-
tives by the Committee on Ways and Means.

When the bill was under consideration in
the House, I proposed a substitute. In the
debate of July 21st I made a statement of
the nature of my substitute, and I reproduce
an extract which sets forth the first step in
a policy Which culminated in the Act for
Fimding the Public Debt, and which was ap-
proved by President Grant July 14, 1870 :

''The amendment to which I wish to call the atten-
tion of the House provides for the funding of $1,200,-
000,000 of the public debt, $400,000,000 payable in
fifteen years @ 5 per cent, interest, $400,000,000 pay-
able in twenty years @ 4i per cent, interest, and
$400,000,000 payable in twenl^-fiye years @ 3.65 per
cent, interest, the latter sum of $400,000,000 payable,
principal and interest, at the option of the takers,
either in the United States, or in London, Paris, or
Frankfort."

At that time I had not entertained the
thought that I might come to be the head of
the Treasury Department. Indeed, I had no
other purpose in public life than to remain
in the House of Representatives.

I had had experience on the executive side
of the Government and also on the legisla-
tive side, and I had a fixed opinion in favor
of the latter form of service.

As Secretary of the Treasury, I proposed
a bill in 1869 in the line of the substitute for
the bill of the Committee on Ways and
Means which I had challenged in July, 1868.
The bill proposed an issue of three classes of
bonds, each of four hundred million dollars,
which were to mature at different dates, and
to bear interest at the rates of 5, 4>^, and
4 per cent. It was further provided that the
principal and interest of the bonds bearing
the lowest rate should be made payable
either in the United States, or at Frankfort,
Paris, or London, as the takers might prefer.
The provision was rejected through the in-
fluence of General Schenck, who had then
returned recently from Europe, and with the
opinion that the concession involved an im-
pairment of national honor. As a si^sti-
tute for the feature so rejected, I originated
a plan for the issue of registered bonds,
upon the condition that the interest should
be paid in checks to be forwarded by the
mails to the holders of bonds at the places
designated by them in any part of the world.
This plan is far superior to the first sugges-
tion, as it is susceptible of a much wider ap-
plication.

I have received from Mr. Roberts, the
Treasurer of the United States, the following
letter and statement :

Statement Showing the Proportion op United States Bonds Outstanding January 25, 1900, on

Which Interest is Pato by Check.

Title of Loan.

Total Iflsae.

Regifttered Bonds on

which interest is paid

by check.

on which interest Is
paid by check.

Ponded Loan of 1891 continued @ 2 per cent. . .
4 Per Cent. Funded Loan of 1907

$25,364,500
545,342,950
95,009,700
162,315,400
168,679,000

$25,364,500
478,195,600
64,615,650
117,997,200
109,450,060

100.00
87.69

5 Per Cent. Loan of 1904

6801

4 Per Cent. Loan of 1925.^

72.70

3 Per Cent. Ten-twenties of 1898

55 09

Totals

$1 026 711 550 1 «7ft.f^ fi9i^ (\^

77 49

418 AN HISTORIC SALE OF UNITED STATES BONDS IN ENGLAND.

TREASURY DEPARTMENT.

Office of the Treasurer,
Washington, D. C.
January 25, 1900.
Honorable George S. Boutwell,

Boston,- Massachusetts.
My Dear Mr, Secretary : It gives me pleasure to en-
close to you a table showing by classes of bonds the
percentage of interest paid by checks. The interest
on all registered bonds is now so paid. Only the
coupon bonds, by their nature, are differently treated.
Your plan has worked admirably, and the drift is
slowly from the coupon to the registered form, and so
to an increase of the payment of interest by checks.
With kind regards,

Yours very truly,

(Signed) Elus H. Roberts,

Treasurer qf the United Slates.

This plan has been adopted by corpora-
tions that are borrowers of large sums of
money upon an issue of bonds, and the use
of the system is very general in the United
States.

In my report to Congress in December,
1869, 1 made a recommendation of the Fund-
ing Bill, and I placed copies of the bill that
I had prepared in the hands of the Finance
Committee of the Senate, and in the hands
of the Committee on Ways and Means of the
House of Representatives.

When the bill became a law, the authorized
issue of 5 per cent, bonds was limited to two
hundred million dollars, and the issue of 4
per cent, was raised to twelve hundred mil-
lion. Simultaneously with the passage of
the Funding Bill of July, 1870, the war
between France and Prussia opened, and the
opportunity for negotiations was postponed
until the early months of the year 1871. In
these later years, wh'>n bonds of the United
States have been sold upon the basis of their
par value at 2 per cent, income, it is difficult
to realize that in 1869 the 6 per cent, bonds
of the United States were worth in gold only
83iftr cents to the dollar. The first attempt
to dispose of the 5 per cent, bonds was made
by the Treasury Department through an in-
vitation to the public to subscribe for the
bonds, payment to be made in the currency
of the country, or by an exchange of out-
standing five-twenty bonds which bore inter-
est at the rate of 6 per cent. The subscrip-
tions reached the sum of sixty-six million
dollars, of which the national banks were
subscribers to the amount of sixty-four
million, leaving two million only as the
loan to the general public. A portion of
the amount taken by the banks was for the

account of patrons and clients. This ex-
perience justified the opinion that future
efforts with the general public would be
unsuccessful, while the credit of the country
was not established and placed beyond the
influence of cavillers and doubters.

It was under such circumstances that the
aid of banks and bankers became important
for the furtherance of subscriptions, in view
of the fact that they could give personal
service of a nature not possible in the case
of salaried oflBcers of the Government, nor
compatible with their daily duties.

It is not easy, in this age of compara-
tive freedom and power in &iancial affairs,
to comprehend that in the year 1871 the
long established bankers of New York, Am-
stenlam, and London, either declined or
neglected the opportunity to negotiate the
5 per cent, coin bonds of the United States
upon the basis of their par value. It may
not be out of place for me to mention Mr.
Morton, of the house of Morton, Bliss & Co^
as an exception to the bankers of Euro;>e
and the United States.

It was in the same months of 1871 that I
recommended the issue of a 4 per cent,
fifty-year bond as the basis of the currency
to be issued by the national banks. This
proposition, which would have been advan-
tageous to the banks, in an increasing ratio
as the value of money diminished, was de-
feated by the organized opposition of the
banks through an effective lobby that was
assembled in the city of Washington. Such
was the public sentiment in the year 1871,
even in the presence of these important
facts, that in the month of December I was
able to say in my annual report that the
debt had been diminished during the next
preceding year in the sum of ninety-four
million dollars, and that the total decrease
from March 1, 1869, to December 1, 1871,
was over two hundred and seventy-seven
million dollars.

It was in this situation of .affairs that
Messrs. Jay Cooke & Co. proposed to under-
take the sale in London, by subscription, of
one hundred and thirty-four million 5 per
cent, bonds then unsold. Authority was
given to Cooke & Co. to proceed with the
undertaking, and when the books were closed,
September Ist, I was informed that the loan
had been taken in full. By the terms pre-
scribed by Cooke & Co., the subscribers de-
posited 5 per cent, as security for the
validity of their subscriptions. The bonds
were to be delivered the first day of De-
cember.

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AiV HISTORIC SALE OF UNITED STATES BONDS IN ENGLAND. 419

Upon the receipt of the information that
the undertaking had been a success, the
bonds were prepared, and the Hon. William
A. Richardson, then an Assistant Secretary
of the Treasury, was designated as the agent
of the department for the delivery of the
bonds. The bonds were placed in safes, on
each of which there were three locks. The
clerks were sent over in different vessels,
and the keys were so distributed among
them, that there were not keys in any one
vessel by which any one of the safes could
be opened.

The success of the subscription gave rise
to an unexpected difficulty.

At that time there were outstanding one
hundred and ninety-four millions of ten-forty
United States bonds that carried interest at
the rate of 5 per cent.

It was a singular coincidence, and a co-
incidence probably not due to natural causes,
that some 5 per cent, bonds, having fifteen
years to run, should be at par, and that other
5 per cent, bonds that might run thirty years
should fall below par in the same market.
In the three months from August to Decem-
ber, these ten-forties were quoted as low as
97, or even for a time at 96. Cooke became
anxious, if not alarmed, lest the rate should
fall below 95, and consequently lest the sub-
scribers should refuse to meet their obliga-
tions. Early on the morning of the &st
Monday in December, I received the informa-
tion that the bonds were taken as soon as
the offices were open. I may mention in
passing that Cooke and Co. paid for the
bonds as they were delivered, either in coin
or in five-twenty bonds.

As bonds were taken, and as payments
were made, a difficulty appeared which had
been anticipated, but not in its fulness.
The proceeds from the sales of the 5 per
cent, bonds were pledged to the redemption
of 6 per cent, five-twenty bonds, reckoned
at their par value.

It was provided by the statute that when-
ever five-twenty bonds were called, a notice
of ninety days should be given, when interest
woidd cease. Thus it happened that when-
ever a bond was called it was worth par and
interest to the end of the ninety days. Of
the called bonds some were in America, and
the owners did not choose to present them
in London in exchange for 5 per cent, bonds,
nor for coin. Hence it happened that of
the total proceeds of the 5 per cent, bonds,
about twenty million dollars were paid in
gold coin by Cooke and Co. This coin
was deposited in the Bank of England,

but upon such terms as were imposed by
the governors :

(1) The deposits must be made in the
name of William A. Richardson. This was
done, but a statement was made by Judge
Richardson that the deposit was the property
of the United States.

(2) The gold was not to be taken out of
the country. This stipulation was in the
line of our policy, which was to invest the
entire sum in five-twenty bonds, whenever
they could be bought at par. The oppor-
tunity came in a manner that was not antici-
pated. The documents referred to are of
historical value, and they are therefore
inserted as follows :

(a) A declaration- of trast by William A. Richard-
son, Assistant Secretary of the Treasury, dated at
London, December 28, 1871.

(6) Letter of William A. Richardson, Assistant
Secretary of the Treasury, to John P. Bigelow, Chief
of the Loan Division of the Treasury, dated also at
London, December 28, 1871.

(<f) Letter of Judge Richardson to George Lyall,
Governor of the Bank of England, dated January 15,
1872.

(e) Reply to the same by George Forbes, Chief
Cashier, dated January 17, 1872.

(/) WiUiam A. Richardson's report of January 25,
1872.

(a) Declaration by Wh^uah A. Richardson.

Whereas, I have this day deposited in my name, as
Assistant Secretary of the Treasury, U. S. A., in the
Bank of England, two millions five hundred and fifty
tiiousand pounds sterling, and shall probably hereafter
make further deposits on the same account :

Now I hereby declare that said account and deposits,
present and future, are official and belong to the
Government of the United States, and not to me per-
sonally ; that the monies so deposited are the proceeds
of the sale of 5 per cent, bonds of the " Funded Loan ** :
that whatever money I may at any time have in said
Bank under said account, will be the property of the
United States Government, held by me officially as As-
sistant Secretary of the Treasury, acting under orders
from the Secretary : that the same is, and wiU continue
to be subject to the draft, check, order, and control of
the Secretary of the Treasury, independently of, and
superior to my authority, whenever he so elects, and
that upon his assuming control thereof, my power over
the same will wholly cease. In case othy decease ^

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420 AN HISTORIC SALE OF UNITED STATES BONDS IN ENGLAND.

before said account is closed, the money on deposit
will not belong to my estate, but to the Government of
the United States.

Witness my hand and seal,

(Signed) William A. Richardson,
AsMidant Seerttary qf the Treasury^ U. S. A.
London, England, December 28^ 1871.

i Jno. p. Bigblow,
Witne$»es: ] E. W. Bowen,

( Geo. L. Warren.

(6) Judge Richardson to John P. Bigblow.

41, Lombard St., London, England,

Beeember 28, 1871.

To John P. Bigblow, Chirf <f the Loan Divinon,

Secretary* t Officer Treagury Department, U. S. A.

I have this day deposited in the Bank of England, in
my name as Assistant Secretary of the Treasury, two
million five hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling
money, belonging to the United States, received in pay-
ment of 5 per cent, bonds of the Funded Loan delivered
here in London.

All money hereafter received for future delivery of
bonds will be deposited to the same account.

Herewith I hand you a declaration of trust signed
by me declaring that said account and monies belong
to the United States, and not to me personally, also
the Deposit Book and a book of blank checks numbered
from 35,101 to 35,150, both' inclusive, received from
said Bank, all of which you will take into your custody
and carefully keep in one of the iron safes sent here
from the Department in the same manner as the books
are kept.

This money, and all the money deposited in said
bank on the account aforesaid, will be drawn and used
only in accordance with the orders of the Secretary of
the Treasury to redeem or purchase five-twenty bonds
and matured coupons, or such other and further orders
as he may make in relation thereto.

When money is to be drawn to pay for bonds or
coupons, it must be drawn only by filling up a check
from the book of checks above referred to, and you
will open an account in which you will enter the amount
of all deposits, the number and amount of each check
drawn specifying also to whom the same is made pay-
able and on what account it is drawn.

The checks will be filled up by Mr. Prentiss of the
Register's OfiSce, who will place his check mark on the
upper left comer, and will enter the same in the book.
You will then carefully examine the check, see that it
is correctly drawn for the amount actually payable for
bonds or coupons received and properly recorded, and
you will, when found correct, place your check mark
on the right hand upper comer before the same is
signed by me. All checks will be signed by me with
my full name as Assistant Secretary of the Treasury,
as this is signed.

(Signed) Wiluam A. Richardson,

Astistant Secretary (fthe Treasury, U.S.A.

(e) Mr. Forbes to Judge Richardson.

Bank of England, E. C,

January 4, 1872.

Hon. W. a. Richardson, AiHstant Secretary of the

Treasury of the United States, 41, Lombard Street.

Sir: To preclude any possible misunderstanding

hereafter as to the character of the drawing account

opened in your name, I am instracted by the Governors
to communicate to you in writing that, in conformity
with the mle of the Bank, the account is considered a
personal one ; that the Governors have admitted the
words appended to your name merely as an honorary
designation ; aud the bank take no cognizance of, or
responsibility with reference to the re^ ownership, or
intended application of the sums deposited to the credit
of the account.

I am, sir.

Your obedient servant,
(Signed) George Forbbs,
Chirf Cashier.

(d) Judge Richardson to BIr. Lyall.

41, Lombard Street, London, England,
January 15, 1872.
George Lyall, Esq.,

Governor qf the Bank qf England.
Dear Sir : Referring to the several conversations
which I have had with you, and with your principal
cashier, Bir. Forbes, relative to the manner and form of
keeping the account which I desire to have in the Bank,
I b^ leave to renew in writing my request heretofore
made to you orally, that the account of money deposited
by me may stand in the name of Hon. George S. Bout-
well, Secretary of the Treasury, U. S. A., and myself.
Assistant Secretary, jointly and severally, so as to be
subject to the several draft of either, aiKl of the sur-
vivor, in case of the death of either one.

I suppose I must regard the letter of Mr. Forbes to
me, dated January 4, 1872, and written under instmc-
tions from the Crovemors of the Bank as expressing
your final conclusion that the account in whatever form
it may be kept, must be considered a personal one.

You know my anxiety to have my deposits received
by the Bank, and entered in such way that in case of
my death the balance may be drawn at once by the
Secretary of the Treasury or some other ofilcer of the
Government, and although you are unwilling to regard
the account as an official one, I hope that on further
consideration you will allow it to be opened in the
name of Mr. Boutwell and myself jointly and severally
as above stated.

I am, sir.

Your obedient servant,
(Signed) Wiluam A. Richardson,

Assistant Secretary qf the United States
Treasury Department.

(e) Mr. Forbes to Judge Richardson.

Bank op England, E. C,
January 17, 1872.
Hon. W. a. Richardson,

Assistant Secretary qf the Treasury
qf the UniUd States, 41, Lombard St.
Sir: I am directed by the Govemor to acknowledge
the receipt of your letter of the 15th inst., requesting
that the account of money deposited by you in the Bank
may stand in the name of the Hon. George S. Boutwell,
Secretary of the Treasury, U.S.A., and yourself, the
Assistant Secretary, jointly and severally, so as to be
subject to the several draft of either, and of the sur-
vivor in case of death of either one.

I am to inform you that the Bank is prepared to
open an account in this form, as a personal account ;
but it is essential that Mr. Boutwell should join in the

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AN HISTORIC SALE OF UNITED STATES BONDS IN ENGLAND. 421

request and concur in the conditions proposed before
either party can in that case draw upon the account.

I am, sir,

Your obedient servant,

(Signed) George Forbes,

Chirf Cashier.

(/) Judge Richardson's Report.

41, Lombard Street, London,
January 25, 1872.
Hon. George S. Boutwell,
Secretary of the Treasury,

Dear Sir : It is my purpose in this letter to give
yon an account of the way in which I have kept the
money arising from the sale of the Funded Loan, and
the manner in which it has been drawn from time to
time to pay for bonds purchased and redeemed.

Immediately after the first of December, 1871, the
money began to accumulate very rapidly. Up to the
first of December no money whatever had been received,
all bonds delivered having been paid for by the called
bonds and coupons or secured by deposit of other
bonds ; but on the second day of that month nearly
two and a half millions of dollars cash were paid to
me ; then on the fourth, nearly five millions of dollars
more ; and on the fifth, above three millions, and so on
in different sums till the present time.

Of course it was wholly impracticable to receive,
handle, count and keep on hand such large amounts of
gold coin, weighing between a ton and three-quarters
and two tons to each million of dollars. At one time
my account showed more than sixteen millions of dol-
lars on hand, and to have withdrawn from circulation
that amount of coin would have produced a panic in
the London market ; and the risk in having it hoarded
in any place within my reach would have been immense,
especially as it would have soon been known where it
was.

I ascertained that there would be some difficulty in
keeping an official government account in the Bank of
England, and I did not feel authorized, or justified in
my own judgment, in entrusting so much money to any
otiier banking institution in this city. I found, also,
that the Bank of England never issues certificates of
deposit, as do our banks in the United States. But it
issues "post notes," which are very nearly like its ordi-
nary demand notes, but payable to order , and on seven
days' time, thus differing only in the matter of time from
certificates of deposit. Availing myself of this custom
of the Bank of England, I put all the money into post
notes, and locked them up in one of the safes from
which the bonds had been taken. This I regarded as
a safe method of keeping the funds, and I anticipated
no further difficulty.

But when the Bimk made its next monthly or weekly
return of its condition, and published it in all the news-
papers as usual, the at&ntion of all the financial agents,
bankers, and financial writers of the daily money articles
in the journals was immediately attracted to the sudden
increase of the "post notes'* outstanding, and the
unusually large amount of thenf, so many times greater
than had ever been known before. They were im-
mensely alarmed lest the notes should come in for re-
demption in a few days, and the coin therefor should
be withdrawn from London and taken to a foreign
country ; and lest there should be a panic on account
thereof. Some of the financial writers said they be-
longed to Germany, and that they represented coin
which must soon be transmitted to Berlin. The Bank
officers themselves, although they knew very well that
these notes belonged to the United States, were not less

alarmed because they feared that I would withdraw the
money to send it to New York, which they knew would
make trouble in the London Exchange. Money, which
for a short time before had been at the high rate of
interest, for this place, of 5 per cent., had become
abundant, and the people were demanding of the Bank
a reduction in the rate ; but so timid were they about
these post notes that they did not change the rate until
I took measures to allay their fears. This I did because
I thought it would be injurious and prejudicial to the
Funded Loan to have a panic in London, in which the
market price of the new loan would drop considerably
below par just at a time when its price and popularity
were gradually rising, and just as it was coming into
great favor with a new class of investors in England,
the immensely rich but timid conservatives.

I determined to open a deposit account with the
Bank of England, and in doing so experienced the dif-
ficulties which I anticipated. I assured the officers
that-the money was Government (U. S.) money, which
I did not intend, and was not instructed to take home
with me ; but which I should use in London in redeem-
ing bonds and coupons, and should leave in the Bank on
deposit unless, by the peculiarity of their rules, I should
be obliged to withdraw it. They objected to taking
the money as a Government deposit, or as an official
deposit in my name, having some vague idea that if
they took it and opened an official Government account
they should be liable for the appropriation of the money
unless documents from the tlnited States were filed
with them taking away that liability, but they could
not tell me exactly what documents they wanted nor
from whom they must come. They did, however, agree
to open an account with me, and that was the best I
codd do. In signing my name to their book, I added
my official title, and when, some time after, I came to
drawing checks, I signed in the same way. This brought
from the officers a letter which I annex hereto, saying
that my deposit would be regarded as a private and
personal one.

What I was most anxious to provide for was the
power in some United States officer to drtfw the money
in case of my death (knowing the uncertainty of life),
without the delay, expense, and trouble which must
necessarily arise, if it stood wholly to my personal
credit I asked the officers to allow it to stand in your
name as Secretary and mine as Assistant Secretary,
jointly and severally, so as to be drawn upon the several
check of either, and by the survivor in case of the
death of either one. I suggested other arrangements
which would have the same result, but they said their
rules prevented their agreeing to my requests, that
they were conservative and did not like to introduce
anything new into their customs.

On the 15th day of January, 1872, 1 renewed my re-
quest in writing, after having had several conversations
with the officers on the subject, and received an answer
which, with the letter of request, is thereto annexed.

In Uiis, their most recent communication, they express
a willingness to enter the account in our joint names
as I suggested, regarding it, however, as a " personal
account" and requiring that you should "join in the
request and concur in the conditions proposed before
either party can in that case draw upon the account."

As I must now almost daily draw from the account
for money with which to pay bonds, I cannot join your
name therein until you have sent me a written com-
pliance with the conditions which they set forth, because
to do so would shut me out from the account altogether
for several weeks.

Besides, having no instructions from you on the
subject, I don't know that vou would care to give written
directions as to the deposit. I know very well that, in
case of my sudden decease, you would he glad enough

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422 AN HISTORIC SALE OF UNITED STATES BONDS IN ENGLAND.

to find that you could at once avail yourself of the
whole amount of money here on deposit, and so I should
haye joined yoor name as I have stated. Now you can
do as you please. I have taken every possible precau-
tion within my power, and have no fear that the ar-
rangements are insufficient to protect the Government
in any contingency whatever. With the correspond-
ence which has passed between the officers of the Bank
and myself, and our conversation together, the account
is sufficiently well known to them as a U. S. Govern-
ment deposit, and is fully enough stamped with that
character, as I intended it should be, however much they
may ignore it now.

But for still greater caution, I made the written
deplaration of trust on the very day of the first de-
posit, signed and sealed by me, declaring the money
and account as belonging to our Government, and not
to me, a copy of which is hereto annexed.

I also gave written instruction to Messrs. Bigelow
and Prentiss to draw all the checks, and how to draw
them and keep an account thereof. As I make all my
purchases through Jay Cooke, McCullough & Co., every
check is in fact payable to that house, so that the ac-
count is easily kept, and the transactions cannot be
mingled vrith others, for there are no others. I annex
a copy of these instructions.

This, I believe, will give you a pretty correct idea of
the difficulties which have been presented to me in the
matter of taking, keeping, and paying out the money
arising from the sale of the bonds, and the manner
in which I have met them.

I may add that when the officers of the Bank were
satisfied that I was not to withdraw the money and take
it to New York, they reduced the rate of interest and
there has been an easy market ever since.

There are now on deposit more than twelve millions
of dollars : but I hope it will be reduced very fast next
month. Had you not sent over the last ten millions of
bonds, we should have been able to close up very soon.
I hope now that you will make another call of twenty
millions at least, because I think it would enable us to
purchase moife rapidly.

I annex :

(1) Copy of declaration of trust.

(2) Copy of instructions for drawing checks.

(3) Copy of letter from Cashier of Bank of England,
stating that the account would be considered personal.

(4) Copy of my letter to the Governor of the Bank,
asking that your name might be joined.

(5) Copy of reply to last mentioned letter.

I am, very respectfully.

Your obedient servant,
(Signed) WiLUAM A. Richardson.

When Cooke & Co. had completed their
undertaking, the deposits in the Bank of
England exceeded fifteen million dollars, and
for three months they were for the most
part unavailable, as the five-twenty bonds
which had not matured under the calls that
had been made were above par in the market.
It was a condition of the loan that the five-
twenty bonds redeemed should equal the 5
per cent, bonds that had been issued, both
issues to be reckoned at their par value.

In the month of April, 1872, the Commis-
sioners who had been designated under the
Treaty of Washington of 1871 to ascertain
and determine the character and magnitude

of the claims that had been {referred by the
United States against Great Britain, growing
out of the depredations committed by the
"Alabama '' and her associate cruisers, were
about to meet at Geneva for the discharge
of their duties.

The administration had appointed the Hon.
J. C. Bancroft Davis, the most accomplished
diplomatist of the country, as the agent of
the United States, and the preparation of
" the Case of the United States " was placed
in his hands.

The British Ministry discovered — or they
fancied that there was concealed in covert
language — a claim for damages, known as
"consequential or indirect damages." Mr.
Sumner had asserted a claim for "conse-
quential damages " — in other words, a claim
to compensation for the value of American
shipping that had been driven from the
ocean and made worthless through fear of
the cruisers that had been fitted out in Brit-
ish ports.

This claim, in the extreme form in which
it had been presented by Mr. Sumner, had
been relinquished by the Administration, and
a present reading of " the Case of the United
States" may not justify the construction
that was put upon it by the British Ministry,

Nevertheless, the Administration received
notice that Great Britain would not be repre-
sented at the Geneva Conference.

The subject was considered by the Presi-
dent and Cabinet on three consecutive days
at called sessions. At the final meeting I
handed a memorandum to the President,
which he passed to the Secretary of State.
The memorandum was not read to the Cab-
inet.

Mr. Adams, the Commissioner forthe United
States, had not then left the country. By a
despatch from the Secretary of State Mr.
Adams was asked to meet me at the Parker
House, in Boston, on the second day after
the day of the date of the despatch.

What occurred at the meeting may be best
given through an extract from the diary of
Mr. Adams, which has been placed in 'my
hands by Mr. Charles Francis Adams, Jr.,
with the privilege of its full and free use by
me.

The first entry is under date of Saturday,
April 20, 1872, and is in these words:
" Charles brought me a telegram from Gov-
ernor Fish, desiring me to meet Mr. Bout-
well, who vrill be at the Parker House at
eleven o'clock on Monday." The second en-
try is under date of "Monday, 22d of April,"

" At eleven o'clock called on Mr. Boutwell,

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THE SHALLOW SPIRIT OF JUDGMENT.

423

the Secretary of the Treasury, at Parker's
Hotel, according to agreement. Foand him
alone in his minute be(&oom. He soon opened
his subject— handed over to me a packet
from Governor Fish, and said that it was the
desire of the Government, if I could find it
consistent with what they understood to be
my views of the question of indirect dam-
ages, that I would make such intimation of
them' to persons of authority in London as
might relieve them of the difficulty which
had been occasioned by them. I told him of
my conversation held with the Marquis of
Ripon, in which I had assumed the heavy
responsibility of assuring him that the Gov-
ernment would not press them. I was glad
now to find that I had not been mistaken. I
should cheerfully do all in my power to con-
firm the impression consistently with my own
position."

Thus, through Mr. Adams, the claim for
" indirect damages ^ was relinquished. When
the fact of the disturbed relations between
the United States and Great Britain became
public there was a panic in the London stock
market ; and in the brief period of eight and
forty hours our deposit of twelve million or
more in the Bank of England was converted
into five-twenty United States 6 per cent,
bonds, purchased at par.

In my annual report for December, 1872,
I was able to make this statement :

Since my last annual report the bosinesssof nego-
tiating two hundred million of 5 per cent, bonds, and
the redemption of two hundred million 6 per cent, five-
twenty bonds has been completed, and the accounts
have been settled by the accounting officers of the
Treasury.

Further negotiations of 5 per cent, bonds can now
be made on the basis of the former negotiation.

THE SHALLOW SPIRIT OF JUDGMENT.

THREE STORIES OF CONTEMPORARY CHICAGO LIFE.

By Edith Wyatt.
With Pictures bt Frederic R. Grugbr.

STILL WATERS.

CHARLES PAINE, a man of sense, wit,
and feeling, was the second son of
Henry W. Paine of the Illinois Circuit Court.
Charles was a person of hot prejudices and
firm convictions; cock-sure in all his opin-
ions, able in athletic sports, and rather good-
looking, with three-cornered blue American
eyes, a high color, a high nose, and a very
kind smile.

Among his many friends none was more
blindly admired by him than a man of quite
opposite temperament, Mr. Richard Elliot,
a writer and critic. Richard Elliot was a
person of correct opinions, approved convic-
tions, and refined prejudices; among these
last was his admiration for a young l^y who
occasionally visited at the house of a friend
of his mother's. She was a Miss Margaret
Alden, an extremely pretty girl, of ** May-

flower" immigrant tradition, with straight
features, light, smooth hair, gracefully ar-
ranged, and a rather scornful expression.
She had no conception of anything in crea-
tion but character: personality, beauty, wit,
art, trade, even happiness and pain them-
selves, were to her vision all inconsiderable
as compared with character; and she spent
all her time either in observing other peo-
ple's or in developing her own. * She devel-
oped her own by thinking almost all other
people far too unscrupulous and by keeping
a diary of the following kind :

June Ist. — Oppressively warm yesterday evening.
But I determined not to snccnmb to the heat, and gave
up my afternoon nap. I dressed in my blue organdie,
and was reading in the library when Richard Elliot
and Mr. Paine were announced.

We had some conversation on modem literature. Mr.
Paine talked a great deal, rather loudly and diffusely.
He seems to like almost everything, and praises with-
out restraint

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424

THE SHALLOW SPIRIT OF JUDGMENT.

R. E. appeared slightly amused by Mr. Paine. He
himself said almost nothing. But I coold see plainly
by little things, a lifting of the eyebrow or a meaning
silence, that on every subject we mentioned he had
thought more, and thought more deeply than Mr. Paine.
Here, again, is a habit of mind I should like to acquire.
I think enoughf it is true, but not deeply enough.

Mr. Paine brought me the "Adventures of Huck
Finn," because I told him the other day I had never
read it. After his usual extravagant way, he said it
was his favorite work ; that he derived the purest joy
from it, and was never more happy
than when he was in the author's power.
He had liked it from the first moment
he laid eyes on it, when he was seven
years old.

He read out favorite portions, and
several times shouted aloud with laugh-
ter. I was not especially amused,
neither, I believe, was R. E. When Mr.
Paine finished and handed me the book,
R. E. remarked, however, with the
quietest genial tact and reserve : " I
am one who approves of humor. It has
its place. Shakespeare knew this ; and
the best of us need a little laughter now
and then."

He certainly has the most wonderful
poise. I have read the book since, but
have not exactly made up my mind
about it — am going over it again. I
cannot quite place it in modern art, and
so cannot regard it as especially signifi-
cant. Just whcU is its message to prog-
ress? Mr. Paine says that it has the
finest democracy, but I cannot find where
tiie author mentions democracy or re-
form at all.

To return to Mr. P., I do not under-
stand, nor, U) be candid, like his being
devoted at seven and at twenty-seven in
the same way to the same book. This,
of course, would not be possible to a man
developing very eagerly, or living very
strenuously ; and sometimes I wonder if
I am quite sincere in letting him con-
tinue my friend, but hardly know how to
approach him on the subject.

It has been said that Richard
Elliot bestowed on Miss Alden a
judicious and tempered admira-
tion ; and no doubt, in that they
were both as serious as the tomb,
they found a common meeting-
ground. But why Charles should
have cast his affections on Miss
Alden, his family often wondered.
His cousins nearly cried when they discov-
ered his entirely obvious feeling. They said
that if Charles were married to Margaret
Alden, his life would be one long grind;
that not only would he have a horrid time,
but, as he was worked upon very easily
through his affections, Miss Alden would
soon change him into a miserable, self-
improving egoist. They worked themselves
up to the highest pitch of impatience.

If they had been more modest for Charles,
or better acquainted with Miss Alden, they
need not have been so disturbed. The
fancy of that young lady could never have
been touched by a man as open as the day and
as simple as a fairy-tale, however generous his
excellence ; further, there was the glamour
of ** R. E.'s " reserve and intaicacy to lend
positiveness to her refusal of Charles, who

Mr. Baine talked a great deal.

R. E. appeared slightly amused by

was, at the time, quite incapable of appre-
ciating his good fortune. If he could have
known that he failed to please because he
was patently good and able and funny, in-
stead of non-committally weak and depend-
ent and solemn, perhaps he would not have
been soothed.

As it was, providence manifested itself.
No one could have supposed Margaret
Alden's dismal stupidity an instrument of

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THE SHALLOW SPIRIT OF JUDGMENT,

425

happiness. Yet by this very means Charles
was left free for a happy marriage, within
a few years, to a good girl, a golf champion,
who shared almost all his prejudices.

TWO CITIZENS.

There was once a rich German alderman, a
saloon-keeper, who lived in a double red-
brick house in Chicago. For his business,
he sold beer and distributed jobs in return
for political influence. He appropriated a
suitable percentage on these jobs, and he
conducted their sale on the just and straight-
forward principles of a commission merchant.
For his pleasure, he had around his house a
large yard; and in summer this yard was
filled with little flower-beds shining with
petunias, portulacas, and zinnias. In their
center was a sputtering little fountain, and
near the fountlEtin were two artificial deer
and a small summer-house. In front of the
summer-house was the saloon-keeper's name,
** J. HoflFman," done in foliage plants.

On Sundays Mr. Hoffman used to sit in his
summer-house doorway, completely filling it,
for he was a leviathan of a man, smoking a
meerschaum pipe, and wearing a gay red
velvet smoking- jacket and cap, deeply bor-
dered with bright silk flowers, beautifully
embroidered by his daughter. His daughter's
music-teacher, a thin, dark, little German,
sat at one side of the summer-house, smoking
a long pipe ; and his many fat little boys
played and showed off noisily around the yard.

They used to feel very proud when they
noticed the attention their surroundings at-
tracted from the passers-by, and they were
especially proud that the observant could
see plainly in the foliage-plants at their
' father's feet his name, as he sat grandly in the
midst of his artistic fancies. Often they could
be heard reading the name aloud, and this
filled the little boys with a peculiar ecstasy.

Besides his garden, his deer, his fountain,
and his little boys, J. Hoffman had an indus-
trious and amiable German wife and a beau-
tiful German daughter. Lulu Hoffman was,
indeed, a child to delight the heart of any
parent. Although she was only sixteen
years old, she wore long dresses, and her
hair coiled in beautiful thick yellow braids
at the back of her head. She had large,
gay blue eyes, fresh pink cheeks, and dim-
ples. To these gifts of nature she had added
the most happy attainments of art : for she
sang and played upon the piano, both by ear
and by note. By note she played ** Songs

without Words," and compositions like " Sil-
very Thistle "and * * Rippling Waves. ' ' For
her teacher encouraged in her a taste for
crystsJ runs and tinkling-bell effects. By
ear, she played compositions like the ^* Doug-
las Two-Step," so rhythmically that, as soon
as she began, all her little brothers went
tooting and prancing about the room. Be-
sides this, she could bake coffee-cake, crisp,
brown, and shining outside, and feathery as
a marshmallow inside; and little frosted
German spice-cakes, rich and heavy, filled
with citron and walnuts and raisins, and
flavored with wine. ^

In the same city with J. Hoffman, Richard
Elliot lived in very moderate circumstances.
His business was writing, in a conventional
and academic style, critical reviews, expres-
sing conventional and academic ideas. In
these reviews he divided all authors into
classes, schools, and period. When he
found an author who had no period, and who
could not be put into a class or a school,
he did not write about him, unless, he be-
came, even in academic circles, a great
favorite. In that case he mentioned that
the author was delightful.

As he could not, for obvious reasons, think
of himself as famous or great, he thought of
himself as delightful. And for consistency
with this opinion he used to disguise his most
conventional and approved ideas under an
assumption of amiable staunchness and in-
dependence. *'Dear old Homer," he ex-
claimed in a determinedly light essay called
" A Loaf of Bread, A Jug of Wine," " even
in this degenerate day and age there are^
some of us who love your very nods." "*

His pleasure was less definite and material
than J. Hoffman's. It consisted really in
being refined. It may as well be admitted
that he was far more refined than J. Hoff-
man. However, the pleasure he derived
from what was refined was not so intense as
the pain he suffered from what was not re-
fined. And as there are such numbers of
large and coarse things in the world, this
susceptibility gave him a wide scope for suf-
fering.

On one Sunday afternoon, as he was
taking a walk with a congenial friend, also
a refined man, he passed the house of J.
Hoffman. J. Hoffman and the Professor
were smoking their pipes at the sum-
mer-house, the flowers were all blooming
and shining, the little boys were playing
noisily on the grass, and through the win-
dow the notes of the ** Douglas Two-Step "
were sounding clearly and ch^rfully.

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426

THE SHALLOW SPIRIT OF JUDGMENT.

* LMenlng happUy to the * DougUu TwhStep.*

Richard Elliot felt sickened when he ob-
served all this. ** The life of the middle-
class American is sometimes painfully hide-
ous, is it not ? " he said to his friend.

** Yes," replied the friend, ** that kind of showed a just appreciation of the fountain
thing is pretty bad." and the deer. ** This is evidently your own

** However," continued Richard Elliot, idea, Mr. Hoffman," he would say. ** Some-

Richard Elliot would have
been still more displeased with
the middle-class American, if he
could have known that, at the
instant of his passing the object
of his witty remarks, his own
younger brother was sitting in
the Hoffmans' parlor, listening
happily to the ** Douglas Two-
Step." This younger brother
had not had as many advantages
as Richard, so that he had a
much more limited scope for
suffering, and the atmosphere
so noxious to his brother was
pleasing, and even exhilarating,
to himself. He had met Lulu at
a Sunday-school picnic, which
he had attended in performing
the duties of his office as news-
paper reporter, and which Lulu
had attended in performing her
duties as a caretaker of her
little brothers. He had been
attracted to her at first by her
large, kind blue eyes and yellow
braids, and by her warm devo-
tion to her excited little broth-
ers. He spent the greater partof
the afternoon in talking with her,
so that his newspaper article,
headed, ** Lutheran Tots Frolic
in Garfield Park," had to be
such as might not be unsuitable
for any Sunday-school picnic.

Soon after this occasion he
went to see her, on the pre-
text of returning an umbrella
he had found leaning against
a tree in the park — one which,
as it was his own, could not possibly be hers.
On this visit he walked around the little
gravel-paths among the flower-beds, with
Mr. Hoffman and the Professor, and he

"most middle-class Americans are for-
eigners." This was his idea of being de-
lightful. ** We are ruled and governed by
that kind of person," he pursued. ** They
hold all our city offices."

thing quite out of the common."

In making these remarks he expressed less
his own thoughts than what he divined to be
his host's feelings. In the house he inter-
ested himself deeply in the Professor's ren-

It gives the other kinds of men time for dering and explanation of **The Storm in

other kinds of things," answered the friend.
That is what they said. What they
thought was that it was a pity such men
as themselves should not be the rulers
and governors, instead of such men as J.
Hoffman.

the Alps," a very intricate musical compo-
sition in which the flashes of lightning were
expressed, musically, by shrieking chromatic
scales, and the clattering hoofs of the
alarmed chamois by a rapid staccato polka.
An Alpine horn sounding reveille was occa-

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THE SHALLOW SPIRIT OF JUDGMENT

427

sionally recognizable, among the crashes of
thunder in the bass notes ; and the mourn-
ful song of a young Swiss peasant girl, in the
highest treble, and with a great deal of soft
pedal, was effectively introduced immediately
after the thunder.

Otto and Maxie, tho oldest of the little
boys, during this performance stood pressed
so closely against the piano that they ob-
structed the Professor's rapid execution as
his flying hands separated further and fur-
ther in the combined thunder and lightning,
and they were obliged to leave their places
and content themselves with making their
ears ring by placing them against the sides
of the piano.

Tom showed his appreciation of all these
things so delicately that Mr. Hoffman urged
him to come again and smoke with him in,
or, rather, outside of, his summer-house ; and
in this way Tom fell rapidly into the way
of making weekly visits at the Hoffmans'.

He liked to walk about among
the flower-beds and the little
boys with the Professor and the
enormous, richly embroidered
Mr. Hoffman ; and he liked to go
into the Hoffmans' large, vividly
clean parlor, shining with a red
carpet and bright blue wall
paper, and flUed with little glit-
tering ornaments like Christmas-
tree decorations, and there
drink thick, rich chocolate, and
eat little frosted German cakes,
while he listened to the Pro-
fessor playing or to Lulu sing-
ing German songs.

But what he liked most was
the Hoffmans' easy and affec-
tionate goodness. He had seen
a great many households where
goodness was made a point, but
it had been more obtrusive and
awkward ; often it was blunted
into an insulting benevolence.
The Hoffmans were unassertive,
unpuritanic, and simple, like the
natural and unsought goodness
of the Golden Age.

As for Lulu, he had known
almost from the first that he
was in love with her. She
treated him always with a
bashful respect, as if he were
years older than herself ; and
this might have hurt him, if
she had not blushed whenever
she found him looking at her.

and whenever she blushed he felt hal-
lowed. In her presence the young man's
every nagging discomfort and worry van-
ished. When he was with her, he experi-
enced a complete happiness; and he felt a
deeper reverence for her than for anything
else he had ever known. Her spirit was as
fresh and beautiful as the azure depths of
the sky. She lived to be happy and to give
happiness, to delight the hearts of the peo-
ple she loved. She was as incapable of
giving pain as the sun would be of radiating
coldness instead of warmth.

When Tom Elliot offered to take his
brother with him to see Lulu Hoffman, it
was not because he expected such a visit to
be a social success, but because he would
have liked to make every one bow down be-
fore her, and his brother seemed to him the
least likely to bow.

Richard, however, was unexpectedly willing
to call on the Hoffmans. He did not know

He tpent the greater pari of the afternoon in talking wtth her."

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428

THE SHALLOW SPIRIT OF JUDGMENT

that theirs was the house he had passed on
Sunday, and the truth was that he saw
plainly enough that his brother was in love,
and he hoped to cast some cold water on an
enthusiasm, presumably unworthy, by the
effect of his own and the Hoffmans' contrast-
ing presences. There certainly was a great
contrast between his own and the Hoffmans'
manners.

Mr. Hoffman showed him the garden,
walking grandly and hospitably before him,
and puffing his long pipe majestically; and
Richard walked behind Mr. Hoffman, and
talked with him much as one might walk and
talk with a leper. His desire to get away
was so keen that it must have pierced any
vanity more superficial or more grudging
than Mr. Hoffman's.

Inside the house Mrs. Hoffman, the Pro-
fessor, Lulu, Otto, Maxie, and the rest all
appeared to him as other lepers. He sat
on his chair in a tentative way, and an-
swered the Hoffmans' simple and genial re-
marks with ** Indeed" and "Ah, I see,"
in a cautiously uncompromising manner and
with studied inattention.

The Hoffmans thought he was quiet and
shy. To understand that he wished to snub
them on account of his superior social ad-
vantages would have been as impossible to
them as it would have been to kittens or to
angels.

This was the balm with which Tom quieted
liis spirit at those moments of the call when
he most wished to throttle his brother. He
went back to the Hoffmans' on the very same
evening, and took Lulu for a long drive.
This was rather surprising to Mr. Hoffman.
It has been hinted that he was not embar-
rassed by modesty ; and he had always re-
ceived Tom rather as a visitor of his own
than as a friBnd of Lulu's. He had sup-
posed that Tom had some vaguely official
connection with the Lutheran Sunday-school,
and he had regarded his presence in the
house much as he regarded the Professor's.
He was slightly puzzled now, as he might
have been if Tom had come with a horse and
carriage to take Otto or Maxie out driving.
Indeed, he could not have been more sur-
prised if Tom had asked for the hand of
Maxie than when he came to the city hall
and asked if he might marry his daughter.
She had admitted, Tom told him, that she
loved him; and though he, Tom, was not
worthy to unlatch her shoe-strings, he be-
lieved he could make her happy. He loved
her as much as it was possible for one per-
son to love another.

After Mr. Hoffman had recovered from his
first shock of surprise, he took Tom to hi^
large bosom and kissed him. He smiled
paternally on Tom's hilarity at this last dem-
onstration, and they parted on congenial
terms at the office door.

Richard Elliot was even more startled at
his brother's engagement than Mr. Hoffman
had been ; it had been so opposite an effect
from that he had intended his visit to have.

THE JOY OF LIFE.

Near the Lake, at the eastern edge of
the North Side, there is a small lagoon with
a white stone curb, and a rounding, verdant
bank planted with a young birch grove of
feathery delicate foliage and white, stresJced
tree-trunks. A high bridge spans the la-
goon, and joins its green western shore
with the cement and cobbled esplanade that
borders the lake.

Standing on the top of the bridge one may
see, close beside, the lawns and grassy
slopes of the park, and the stretching lines
of white street wainscoted with dark build-
ings and fringed with the dusky hanging
shade of green trees. Beyond, the city
spreads in a buff and lavender distance of
smoky chimneys and roof-tops.

On a cool, sunlit morning of early sum-
mer, a young German girl was standing on
this bridge and looking out at the gay, vari-
ous scene all green and white in the fresh
air and the clear light of a fine day. Her
face was lovely with blushing color and an
expression of complete and gay good nature.
She was about eighteen years old. She
wore a leghorn hat trimmed with bright
flowers, and an elaborate, hem-stitched
shirt-waist ; and she carried a straw work-
basket. Lulu Elliot, not long ago Lulu
Hoffman, was walking up from her flat near
the city to spend the day at her father's
house, and carrying in her basket some
linen to hem-stitch, a coffee-cake loaf for
her mother, some little German china ani-
mals for her brothers, and some songs to
practice. She was in no hurry. She rested
her basket on the bridge, and looked out
over it. Without any conscious admiration,
she was enjoying with a perfect and humble
happiness the brilliant, luminous colors
around her, the warm sun shining on her
arms and shoulders, the blowing fragrance
of the newly mown park, and the light lap-
ping of the lake against the breakwater.

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THE SHALLOW SPIRIT OF JUDGMENT.

429

She was so absorbed that she did not for
some time observe walking over the bridge
another young woman, dressed with distinc-
tion and suitably in a walking-skirt and hat,
and stepping along correctly, with chest ex-
panded, treading on the ball of the foot.
Margaret Alden was taking her morning
walk for exer-
cise and re-
flection, on the
lake shore; and
she was almost
upon Lulu before
she recognized
in her an ac-
quaintance, the
sister-in-law of
Richard Elliot, a
writer, and the
wife of his un-
worthy, easy-
going brother, a
sporting re-
porter.

Lulu now too
saw Miss Alden,
and recognizing
in her one of her
very few ac-
quaintances, she
went toward her,
saying,** How do
you do ? Isn't
it lovely here ?
Are you going
my way ?*'

When Miss Al-
den replied with
some reserve
that she was
going north only
as far as the end
of the esplanade,
Lulu picked up

her basket and cordially started to accom-
pany her. She had always lived in an at-
mosphere of unexacting affection and admi-
ration, and never having in her whole life
been consciously disliked by any one, she
had now no idea but that Margaret Alden
would be pleased with her presence. She
naturally supposed that everybody liked
her ; she, for her part, liked everybody.
She had absolutely no sense of disap- sible ground.

panion for loitering on a public bridge, for
her dress, her basket, her evident ignorance,
and her gay, expansive smile. Beyond in-
quiring after Richard Elliot and his brother,
and remarking, as she observed the city,
that the smoke nuisance was worse every
time^she came on from Portsmouth, she said

as little as pos-
sible while they
walked on to-
gether. She was
relieved when,
within a few min-
utes, Lulu turned
off to go west
and she was left
to walk alone.

On the occa-
sion of his next
visit, she men-
tioned to Richard
Elliot that she
had met his sis-
ter-in-law on the
lake shore.

**Yes," he
said. He con-
tinued, rumina-
tively, ** Yen met
my sister-in-
law,^^ as though
there had been
something of un-
common signifi-
cance in this.

While Marga-
ret Alden was
trying to under-
stand him, he
pursued, ** My
sister-in-law rep-
resents a large
class of women.
I wonder what that meeting meant to her —
I wonder.''

** I could not have said," replied Miss Al-
den. ** She — you will take my question well,
I know — is she a woman who thinks much ? "
** No," said Richard Elliot, confidently.
** But why?"

** Why ? Partly temperament, partly en-
vironment." This seemed to cover all pos-

Lulu Elliot, not long ago Lulu Uofftaan.**

proval and no idea that she was ever dis-
approved of.

Margaret Alden, on the other hand, had
more sense of disapproval than of anything
else, and now she disapproved of her com-

Past environment, perhaps " said Mar-
garet Alden. ** But what of the present ?
I have seen very little of your brother. I
know he is not like you. But has he no in-
tellectual interests ? "

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430

THE SHALLOW SPIRIT OF JUDGMENT,

** My brother," said Richard Elliot, drop-
ping his glance a little, ** is not a thinker."

Margaret Alden looked slightly pained;
then she said, with sympathetic pity: ** But
people who don't think — how much pleas-
ure—how much joy in life they must
miss."

'' One of the saddest things in life is the
people who don't think."

** How true that is," murmured Margaret
Alden. "Do you

know what a '

wonderful thing
that was you said
then?"

Richard Elliot
tried not to look
as though he
t h 0 roughly
agreed with her,
and continued :
** And those peo-
ple who don't
think are the
very ones hard-
est to reach and
to stimulate.
What can we
do for them ?
Talk a little to
them, perhaps —
write a little for
them — that is
all."

**Yes,butthat
is a great deal.
Every one cannot
write a little,"
she suggested
delicately.

Again Richard
Elliot tried not
to look as though
he thoroughly
agreed with her.
** But they are
problems," he

continued. **My sister, now — what could
reach her ? What could make her wish to
think ? " Lulu had really never occurred to
him as a problem before; but as he was
having great fun talking in this line, he went
on: ** I wonder if your meeting was at all
stimulating to her ? It would be so inter-
esting to know."

**I could hardly tell," said Margaret
Alden. " I should like to see her again."

** Perhaps you will," said Richard Elliot
a little lamely. The truth was that it was

growing rather hard for him to think up, on
the spur of the moment, oracular reflections
on Lulu as a problem.

** I will go to see her," said Margaret
Alden beautifully. **If I can be stimulat-
ing to her, I will. As you say, it is all one
can do for people who don't think — talk a
little to them, at least, if we cannot write a
little for them. I will go to her,"

"This is like you," said Richard Elliot.
Both for the mo-
ment felt un-
commonly noble.
They had cerr
tainly spent an
evening delight-
ful to both.

It was in con-
sequence of her
enjoyed dialogue
with Richard El-
liot that Mar-
garet Alden rang
the bell of Tom
Elliot's first-floor
flat on Dearborn
Avenue one
morning. As she
stepped into the
vestjbule she
heard Lulu's
voice, practising
in the parlor :

CryBtal water every

day
I may drink upon my

way,
Fresh as dews of

star-eyed Spring,
Cool as airs the light

winds bring —
Child of Dust though

I may be,
Here is joy, is meant

for me.

She had thovsn her picture* of all the family.^

Lulu came to
the door, slightly
flushed with the interest of her practising, and
admitted Margaret Alden. Although a little
surprised, she was pleased to see Margaret.
She knew there was no very urgent reason
for her coming; she felt the occasion a
rather special one, and she began to devise
entertainment for her guest. After she had
shown her pictures of all the family and her
own wedding photographs, and had talked
a little with her on such indifferent topics as
the weather and the street-car service, she
asked Miss Alden whether she played and if

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THE SHALLOW SPIRIT OF JUDGMENT.

431

she were not fond of music. When Margaret
said she was, Lulu instantly offered to play
and to sing for her. " What kind of music
do you like best?"

" I enjoy any classic music," said Mar-
garet, in the hope of being stimulating.

This gave, at least, a wide choice, and
Lulu played one of the ** Songs without
Words."

Margaret was not really fond of music ;
she even slightly disapproved of it, except
for the most cultured people. Further, she
had not come to hear Lulu play or sing, nor
for social enjoyment of any kind, but to be
stimulating ; and she now sat rather at a loss.

After Lulu had finished playing, she said
she would sing. She was really proud of
her singing. She had a good voice, a con-
tralto, strong and sweet, and she loved
singing. At home her family had always
enjoy^ hearing her; and after her mar-
riage, Tom so liked her music that she
worked over it even more than she had be-
fore. She began now the accompaniment
of what she hsd been practising when Mar-
garet came in. It was a favorite of Tom's,
less for itself than because he considered it
exactly suited to Lulu, and really, in some
sort, like her. Besides, while she read all
her music with intelligence, this song she
sang with an especial understanding and
beauty:

Every day f reeh bread and meat
Gladly, thankfully, I eat ;
Jaicy roast, and cmmb and cmst
Given' me, a Child of Dust —
Child of Dust though I may be.
Here is joy, is meant for me.

Crystal water every day
I may drink upon my way,
Fresh as dews of star-eyed Spring,
Cool as airs the light winds bring —
Child of Dust though I may be,
Here is joy, is meant for me.

Every night the arms of sleep
Take me to a refuge deep.
Some far off and sUent place
In the utmost caves of space —
Child of Dust though I may be.
Here is joy, is meant for me.

Though I still must strive and ciy
For some lot more fine than I,
Some far crown of mist or gold.
Here are gifts of kindly mold.
Gifts to t^e on bended knee —
Joy I know is meant for me.

Lulu finished with the last chords of the
accompaniment. She could not have sung
anything different immediately afterward;
and she now sat down by the window, looking

almost affectionately at Margaret, she felt so
happy herself, so admiring of the whole
world. She knew that she had sung well,
and she thought, with innocent vanity, that
Margaret must be having a lovely morning
listening to the music, though she was so
very quiet.

Margaret, meanwhile, tried to think of
something stimulating to say. Finally she
observed: " What are you reading now ? "

" Why, nothing just now."

" You don't read very much, do you ?
Mr. Elliot doesn't care much for reading, his
brother says ; so perhaps that accounts for
it,"

'*Tom? Why, he loves to read! My
father says he is a perfect bookworm. Tom
is a literary man himself, you know. Didn't
you know that ? Oh, yes, he enjoys read-
ing. Why, we laugh so sometimes over
* Fliegende Blatter, ' we almost cry. Do you
take it?"

**No."

Lulu would have liked to bring out a copy
of ** Fliegende Blatter " and show Margaret
a favorite jest of hers, a series of pictures
of a Dachshund turning into a sausage. She
had a peculiar Teutonic sense of humor,
consisting mainly in high spirits, and she
had often laughed at tluj3 picture till tears
stood in her eyes. But she perceived from
Margaret's tone that her guest found
nothing in '' Fliegende Blatt^," so she
m^ely said, with sympathetic intent,
'' Many people do not care at all for read-
ing. I myself am not so fond of it as Tom.
Wliy, he has several books he has read
twice — * The Woman in White * even three
times."

Margaret tried harder than ever to think
of something stimulating to say, and being
quite unsuccessful, she now rose, observing
that it was growing late and she must go.

** Must you ? Well, I am glad you came.
I will go over to see you soon."

''Thank you," said Margaret; and she
went out of the room, considering the truth
of Richard Elliot's saying, that the people
who don't think are the very ones hardest to
reach and to stimulate. When she reached
the comer. Lulu had already gone back to
her singing. She pushed up the window a
little farther, looking out at the lucent air
and the lovely day, and watched Margaret
Alden walking down the green and white
sunny street. She wished Margaret could
have stayed a little longer, but, i^ter all,
now she would have all the more time for
practising on her song.

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vuMM

BUILDING A GERMAN
OCEAN - GREYHOUND

|TETTIN, Germany, is famous for
the greatest shipyards on t!ie
European Continent. One

RAY 5TANNARD BAKER

HOW THE SWIFTEST AND MOST
COSTLY OF ALL OCEAN STEAM-
SHIPS WAS BUILT.

in a fortnight, should the Empire need them,
these peaceful passenger ships could be
made terrible engines of war.

Two years ago there came from the Vulcan
works what was then the largest and swiftest
of all ocean steamships, the " Kaiser Wil-
helm der (Irosse." Prophets of evil predes-
tined these ships to failure. In vain. The

visiting the Vulcan works in April of this great success of the " Kaiser Wilhelm der

year might' have seen nine huge vessels in Grosse " did more than any other one thing,

course of construction, seven yet on the perhaps, to establish the world fame of the

ways,* and two in the water. Of the nine German shipbuilder. Hardly had she been '

ships, seven were for German companies — well tested when a still greater and still

one of them a ship of the line for fhe Ger- swifter ship was planned — the " Deutsch-

man navy. The other two were a cruiser
for Russia, and the " Y^kuma," then just com-
pleted, for Japan. Of the German liners,
two will be the greatest ships in the world,
with a single exception, and will both have a
greater speed than any other merchant ship.
These splendid vessels, although intended for
the Atlantic passenger service, to be fitted
with a degree of luxuriousness hitherto un-
approach^, are all built under the require-
ments of the German navy. On the deck
there are beds for the mounting of great
guns, the rudder and screws are especially
protected from the possible harm of shots,
and apparatus is provided for steering below
decks in case the upper works are carried

land," recently in commission. The " Deutsch-
land " is not so long nor quite so broad as
the " Oceanic," so recently from the yards
of the Irish builders at Belfast, but she will
be next to her in size, and much swifter.

On the ways of the Vulcan works there is
a long brown spine of steel, knobbed with
rivets and almost ready for the ribs. It is
the keel of an unnamed ship which will be
as large as the " Deutschland," and another
is being planned to surpass the ** Oceanic." A
few years ago builders said confidently that
the limit of size had been reached ; now there
is none who would venture to name a limit.

The time has come in shipbuilding when the
addition of half a knot of speed is an epoch.

away. Guns are ready at Hamburg or at The builder is so hemmed in and set about
Kiel, the crews are already organized ; and with problems that the half knots beyond
432 i~

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BUILDING A GERMAN OCEAN GREYHOUND.

433

twenty-two — and there are only a few twenty-
two-knot merchant ships — ^mean a vast out-
lay of money, time, and skill. And yet
these fractional knots are paying invest-
ments. A vessel that steams, say, 565 miles
a day, while her nearest rival makes only
502 miles, will arrive in New York from
Cherbourg nearly a full day ahead — and a
day in the life of a man whose minutes are
counted in hundreds of dollars is not to be
despised.

It is probable that • if a great steamship
company should order a 750-foot ship, to
make thirty knots an hour, the builders
would take the contract — eagerly, too. But
it would be in a spirit of solemnity. The
steamship companies are not ready, how-

ever, to go forward so rapidly as that ; the
money involved is too great. Yet in the
" Deutschland " they have built a vessel 686i
feet long, sixty-seven feet broad, and forty-
four feet deep, with a contract speed averag-
ing at least twenty-two knots (about twenty-
six miles) an hour during the entire voyage,
and with a probability of twenty-three knots
or more an hour. In order to force such an
enormous mass of steel, machinery, and coal
through the water, the builders must of
necessity construct engines such as no other
ship ever had — indeed, the greatest engines
in the world, either on land or on sea. It
requires a 33,000 horse-power to drive the
"Deutschland."
The greatest German warship, the " Kaiser

IN ONB OF THE VULCAN SHOPS.

into shape. A sixty -foot b^ ^f metAl \i dragged white-hot from the famaoet,

Here the tteel ribs of the vessel are her ^ . .

crowded against the pegs that plot iu curve on the iron floor, ^t^^ \L t^o minutes Is made ready for service.

43^

BUILDING A GERMAN OCEAN GREYHOUND.

Priedrich III.," has only 18,000 horse-power ;
the *' Oceanic," the greatest of ships in size,
has only 27,000 horse-power ; the " Cam-
pania" has 30,000 horse-power. It was
therefore unknown ground that the Vulcan
builders covered when they undertook to
build the world's greatest engines. But
there was no uncertainty about it. Indeed,
in shipbuilding almost everything depends
on experience. The builders knew to almost

the ship were first traced, and who had
planned the engines and solved to a nicety
those wonderful problems of strains and of
vibration and balance, a single mistake in
which might have ruined the entire creation.
As in other branches of art, the ship-
builder must work within certain circum-
scribed limits. For instance, if he could
make his vessel of any depth, he might build
much larger, and there would be practically

THE SKELETON OP THE " DEUTSCHLAND."

This picture gives some conception of the enormous ca|>acity of tljVv** Deutschland '' ; she has a displacpment of 23,200 tons,
and xvill provide accommodations for I;T50 passcn^^rs and a crew oCiSO.

the last detail just what was necessary to
the construction and operation of such
enormous machinery : the strength of every
bit of metal ; the sizes of the parts that
would give the greatest efiiciency, and yet
occupy the smallest space ; the proper loca-
tion in the ship of the vast weights of the
boilers, the coal bunkers, and so on — all of
these facts had been established by years of
experience with smaller craft. It required
the continuous work for six months of over
a score of draughtsmen to make the plans,
to say nothing of the greater work of the
men in whose brains the beautiful Unas of

no limit to his speed — forty knots would be
almost as easy as twenty-three. But he
must construct his ship so that it will float
into the harbors at New York and Liverpool
and Hamburg, where the channels are hardly
beyond thirty feet in depth. At H<he same
time, if he would have her make a high
speed, he must fit her with enormous en-
gines ; and yet if his engines are too large,
his vessel will not carry enough coal to get
her across the Atlantic and leave any room
for passengers. If he increases breadth to
make her carry a larger load — in other
words, if he makes her " tubby " — he cannot

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BUILDING A GERMAN OCEAN GREYHOUND,

435

drive her through the water at the required
speed. On the other hand, if he makes her
too long in proportion to her breadth and
depth, she will break her back with the
enormous weights which she carries and the
thrust of her machinery.

These are only a few of the difficulties with
which the builder must wrestle, but they will
serve to indicate faintly the delicacy and in-
tricacy of the art— the necessity of striking

to right nor to left, and so that throughout
her whole 700 feet of length, more or less,
she never sinks more than a few feet deeper
at one end than at the other. Then there
is the problem of preventing the vibration
of the propellers as nearly as may be from
shaking the ship ; of ventilation, and of
providing strong draughts of air to the fur-
naces forty or fifty feet below the upper
deck. Then there are other handicaps. The

THE '* DEUTSCHLAND " SIX MONTHS ATTEB HEH KEBL WAS UUD.

Showing the keel, ribe, the second, or '* falae,*^ bottom, and the girden which are to support the decks. On the right and left
Is the scaffolding, or cradle, erected before the frame, within which the frame is built.

just the proper proportions of depth, length,
breadth, weight, so that the vessel will de-
rive the greatest possible speed from the
work of her engines.

After these problems of size and propor-
tions are settled, there is the further diffi-
culty of the balancing of the great ship.
Here are engines and boilers weighing thou-
sands of tons ; here are bunkers which must
be loaded with other thousands of tons of
coal ; here are hundreds of tons of other
machinery, water-tanks, cargo, and so on.
They must all so be arrang^ in the long,
narrow shell of the ship that she lists neither

marine insurance companies — the Lloyds —
must be placated to the last degree, for their
men are on hand to watch every step in the
building of the ship. She must conform, for
instance, to the hundred and one rules of
safety — her forward ribs must be especially
strong to resist ice or collision ; she must
have so many pumps, so much fire-fighting
apparatus, so many water-tight compart-
ments, and so on, else insurance cannot be
obtained for her. Next, there are two gov-
ernments to step in and make further regu-
lations which must be obeyed. Pew people
realize with what jealousy a government

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436

BUILDING A GERMAN OCEAN GREYHOUND.

A TYPE OP GERMAN WORKMAN.
Drawn from life.

watches its shipbuilders to see that proper
accommodations are made for passengers
and crews, and that the vessel is provided
with safety appliances. The laws of Ger-
many on this subject fill a small book, and
the regulations are iron-clad, even to minute
details. These provide for safety and com-
fort of passengers and for the possible use
of the vessel as a warship. When all the
German regulations are complied with, the
American laws go still further, and demand
hand fire-pumps, and a drifting anchor so
that the ship may be steered if she loses her
propellers and her rudder.

The casual visitor at a great shipbuilding
establishment is rarely aware of the impor-
tance of this preliminary work in which the
genius of the supreme craftsman has its
keenest expression. He sees a few absorbed
men in a loft, bending over desks and draw-
ing-tables or making computations. They
are not particularly impressive, especially
when hiff eyes still see green from the light
of great forges and his ears still ring with
the thunder of sledges. And yet it is here
that the ship is first built — finished to the
last rivet in plan and blue print before the
first block of the bed is laid in place. A
score of men, directed by the brains of the
master engineers and designers, have created
a ship in six months which will require the
labor of 1,500 men for nearly two years to
body forth in steel.

The River Oder at Bredow is only a narrow
stream without tides or perceptible current.
When we saw it first, the water was a murky
brown, blotched with bits of rotten ice.
Where the Vulcan works spread along its
shore, the bank rises at a gentle slope, and
here stands the scaffolding for seven ships.
So narrow is the river that three of these
cradles have been placed at a sharp angle to
the water in order that when the greatest
ships are launched they may not crush into
the opposite bank. A ship's scaffolding at
a distance resembles a gigantic basket, one
end of which rests in the edge of the water,
while the other reaches, high up on the bank.
On nearer approach the sides of this basket
resolve themselves into an intricate masse of
timbers of enormous proportions. Here the
ship is bom. The interior of the basket has
been cunningly fashioned by the artificer un-
til it follows the lines of the future vessel —
a sort of huge wooden mold. At the bot-
tom runs a long, low ridge of stout timbers,
called the bed, sloping down to the water
edge. This is to support the backbone or
keel of the ship.

In one of the cradles the keel pieces of a
new warship had just been laid. A crew of
riveters were at work fastening the vertical
keel pieces to the horizontal keel. Imagine
a machine as tall as a man and having the
shape of your thumb and finger when fash-
ioned in the form of a C. A boy at a hand
forge throws a bursting red rivet. Another
workman seizes it with tongs and drops it
into a hole in the ship's spine. There is a
shout and a quick signal ; the giant thumb
and finger of the machine close in and come
deliberately together, one at each end of the
rivet. There is no sound ; but when the
machine opens again and draws away, the
lower end of that rod of iron, as thick as a
man's two thumbs, has been crushed like so
much putty into a rounded head. This rivet
shrinks in cooling, and draws the beams of
steel together until they are like one solid
piece. And that is the daily work of the
pneumatic riveting machine.

The ribs of the ship come from the mills
in long, straight, L-shaped beams which must
be bent to the delicate curves of the ship's
body. A wide iron fioor, full of equidistant
holes ; a furnace sixty-five feet long— of a
length great enough to hold and heat the
ship's longest rib ; a force of workmen wait-
ing for the furnace door to open— that is
where the ribs are shaped. The master
workman has pegged out the curve of a rib
by fitting iron pins in the holes of the floor.

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BUILDING A GERMAN OCEAN GREYHOUND,

437

When the signal is given, the furnace door
bursts open, emitting a blinding glare of
light and fervid heat. A single dark figure,
black against the glow, grapples with huge
pincers in the furnace mouth ; the workmen.

hammers, driving other pegs, straining at
levers, &nd smiting again. Once the steel
wrinkled in bending like a blotting pad, as if
reluctant to submit. In two minutes' time
a simple L cf iron had become a ship's rib.

SHIPPING THE RUDDER.
The pize of It and of the propellers may be realized by comparieon with the workmen who are fixing it in its place.

but a moment before standing inert and lax
of muscle, now bend their shoulders to a
hawser, and the bar of metal, so hot that its
edges bear no definite outline, is dragged
forth. With infinite deftness and fearless-
ness, with swiftness and yet without hurry,
this flaming bar is crowded against the pegs
of the curve, the workmen smiting it with

curving in the shape of the hull, and ready,
except for rivet holes, for service.

In ways just as fascinating the steel plates
which are to form the skin of the ship are
fashioned. Here is a pair of enormous roll-
ers of steel, like the rollers of a laundress's
wringer. Between them a plate of steel as
large as two dining-tables i3 fed, leavine^

438

BUILDING A GERMAN OCEAN GREYHOUND.

part of it sticking straight out. Just at
the proper moment a third roller rists from
below, pushed upward by the resistlesB force
of hydraulic pressure. When it reaches the
plate, we start back, expecting to see the
cold steel snap like glass ; but, instead, it
bends upward as easily as though it were
pasteboard, until it is almost L-shaped. Then
the noiseless but mighty roller that has done
the work slips back again.

Around the head of each cradle at the
Vulcan yards there is a cluster of machines
covered with umbrella-like canopies of cor-
rugated iron. There are thick, saw-like
shears that trim the steel plates, three-quar-
ters of an inch thick, as a little girl would
snip the comers of a bit of calico cloth.
Other machines there are that bore endless
numbers of rivet holes in beams, girders,
and plates ; others countersink these holes ;
still others level off the edges of the plates,
and then a huge crane lifts them over into
the scaffolding, dangles them, though they
weigh ten tons each, just where they are to
be placed, and the workmen fit and fasten
them in.

One year from the time that the keel of
the ''Deutschland'' was laid, her hull was
finished. It loomed huge and brown through
the scaffolding which still protected and
supported it, and it was ready to take the
sea. In January, 1900, the Emperor came
up from Berlin with a brilliant guard of oflS-
cers. Count von Biilow pulled the silken
cord, champagne was spattered on the great

ONE OF THE PISTON HEADS OP THE " DEUT8CHLAND,

ship's stern, and she shot forward into the
water. Tkis shell of steel weighed upward
of 9,200 tons, and had cost all of a million
and a quarter of dollars. There were yet
to be added the engines and the fittings,
which would bring her total weight to over
16,500 tons, and her total cost to over
$3,000,000.

In a great shipyard one tool stands su-
preme in importance over all others. It
goes by the highly expressive title of
shear-legs,'' a kind of crane. From the
top hangs heavy chain tackle which will lift
a hundred tons— 200,000 pounds — as easily
as a boy would pick up a penny. And th^
is the way all of the heavy interior fittings —
the engines, pumps, boilers, stacks, masts,
and so on — are placed in the ship.

With Captain Albers, to whom fell the
honor of taking the " Deutschland " on her
first voyage, we went up the broad plank
gangway which led from the river bank to
the promenade deck of the vessel. Fifteen
hundred men were there at work on her,
hammering, sawing, planing, fitting, and yet
so huge was she that the force seemed small,
and there were areas where not a man was
to be seen.

These men of the Vulcan works possess
their own peculiar interest to the American
visitor. They are not quite so foreign as
he expects ; he sees the strong cousinship
of sweat and grime and strength. But for
a little more, perhaps, of stoop and stolidity,
a little more of patience in their faces, these
might be the men of an American
shop. There is work done here by
strength of shoulder, heaving and
hammering and lifting, that in America
would be done by steam or elec-
tricity; and yet as long as human
muscle is cheaper than steam, so long
will it be employed. In
dress, the German workmen
strongly resemble the
American, except in their
many of which are
with their wooden
soles, the clacking of which
on cobble pavement and
iron flooring gives a dis-
tinctive and unaccustomed
sound to the works. There
is also the unfamiliar Ger-
man blue blouse, falling
from a yoke at the shoulders
and hanging loose around
the waist, which some of
the workmen.^ wear. Ji'he

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BUILDING A GERMAN OCEAN GREYHOUND,

439

Gennan works longer hours and earns much teen minutes is called vespers ; and the sud-

less money than the American ; but while den lull of the clangor of the great works,

food commodities are higher for the most the quiet, and the comfort of the men sitting

part in Germany than in the United States, thus at the close of the day, recall our own

he lives much more cheaply than the Ameri- meaning of the word vespers. At night, after

can because he is willing to live on poorer reaching home, there is a fifth meal of coffee,

fare and in homelier quarters. He does not, smoked fish, rye bread, and possibly a bit of

as a rule, save
momey, for he
must have his
beer and his lot-
tery ticket; but
he pays regularly
to the Sterbekasse
(death-cashier),
so that he may
be buried decently
when he dies.
And yet he is
industrious, skill-
ful, painstaking,
and even duly
ambitious.

One is im-
pressed with the
comfort which
the German
workman gets
from his meals ;
indeed, he seems
to be eating all
the time. Before
he leaves home
in the morning

he has black
coffee and rye
bread. At eight
o'clock he stops work for a few minutes for
more black coffee and a few thick slices of
rye bread with sausage or cheese. And then
comes the long nooning of an hour and a
half. That is a sight to dwell upon — when
the thousands of workmen pour from the
Vulcan yards at noon. For fifteen minutes
before the whistle sounds, plump and comely
women in short skirts, boys and girls and old
men, have been gathering with baskets and
bottles ; and at the striking of the hour they
all rush forward into the yards and are swal-
lowed up in the outward current of men. A
little later the men may be seen sitting along
the sunny sides of neighboring buildings,
each with a woman beside him, eating his
rye bread, in silence for the most part, and
yet with contentment. Again at four o'clock
in the afternoon the whistle blows, and the
men set their little blue pots in the edge of
the forges and bring out a thick slice of
bread covered with lard. This pause of fif-

CAPTAIN ALBERS OP THE " DEUTSCHLAND.**

Drawn froni life by George Variao, April, 1900,

cheese ; and after
that, if there
are pfennigs left,
beer. It is eleven
hours or more of
work, and after
that the deadness
of sleep ; then
work again, for
there are always
many mouths to
feed in a German
family.

The space over
the ''Deutsch-
land's" engines
still gaped wide
open at the time
of Our first visit,
suggesting from
the upper deck
an enormous
grimy pit. The
cylinders for the
main engines
were still open
at the top, the
largest being
nearly nine feet
in diameter, with
a weight of forty-five tons, larger than the
funnels of many a large steamer. Hav-
ing gone down three stories of decks, we
descended a ladder fully sixty feet long
into the depths of the vessel. One may
read indefinitely the cold figures relating to
the size of the engines and boilers in an
ocean steamer, and still he will not realize
their greatness. But let him get down,
pigmy-like, among the machinery itself, and
look up into one of the great twin engines,
and he will receive an impressicn of size and
power such as he will never forget, espe-
cially if he visits this greatest of all engines.
There are 128 cylinders in the engines, and
the ship has nearly a third of a mile of rail-
road track for carrying her coal from the
bunkers to the furnaces.

It was interesting to hear Captain Albers
explain how the great ship was balanced —
the engine just aft of amidship, boilers for-
ward, fresh water in great tanks on each

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440

BUILDING A GERMAN OCEAN GREYHOUND.

STOKE-HOLE OP THE " DEUTSCHLAND."
In the foregroand is ehown the railway used for carrying coal from the bunkers to the fumacee.

side just balancing each other, coal in the
bunkers around the boilers, so that in case
of war the enemy's shot could not pierce to
the ship's vitals — and how water could be let
in from the sea to this or that compartment
to balance the coal burned away. This was
all interesting, but we felt more deeply im-
pressed by the strange, cold, dark, resounding
hole in the extreme stern and at the bottom

of the great ship, which we reached through
a door in a steel wall. Here in silence, and
almost without human attention, works the
mighty rudder arm of the ship. It travels
in a cogged quadrant, and it is so big that
the engine which runs it is perched on top
of it, and rides back and forth as the rud-
der answers the touch of the steersman's fin-
ger on the bridge, a fifth of a mile away.

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BUILDING A GERMAN OCEAN GREYHOUND,

441

THE BOW OP THE " DEUTSCHLAND.
As Ken from the bridge on her trial trip.

The " Deutschland " may be said to be
twenty-one ships in one. In passing up the
vessel from stern to stem, we crept through
numerous gangways of steel, the doors of
which could be instantly closed, and so
screwed on rubber battens as to be imper-
vious to both water and air. In case of an
accident at sea, two men spring instantly to
each of these doors and close them fast ; and

the ship, a moment before a single great
apartment, becomes twenty-one separate
rooms, having no connection below decks.
If one, or two, or even five of these compart-
ments fill with water, the ship will still float
with the buoyancy of those remaining. And
each compartment has its own pumps and its
own means of escape for passengers, so that
even though there is a yawning hole in the

442

BUILDING A GERMAN OCEAN GREYHOUND,

ship's bottom, she may yet sail safely into
port. The " Deutschland " also has two bot-
toms. The real bottom of the ship lies from
four to eight feet beneath the false bottom ;
both are almost equally strong, so that if a
hidden reef bursts through the outer plates,
there will still re-
main a firm, dry
inner bottom to
keep out the
water. This wide
space — it might be
called the sub-
basement of the
vessel-— hae also
its own separate
compartments into
which water can
be let at will to
balance the ship if
she does not ride
evenly.

After the ship's
engines and
boilers, perhaps
the most impres-
sive pieces of
mechanism are the
shafts, which
reach from the
engine out through
the stem of the
vessel, where they
drive the pro-
pellers. In many
respects, also,
these shafts are

the most difficult of any part of the ship to
produce. They are made of a special, high-
priced nickel steel. Each of them is 215 feet
long— longer than many good-sized ships, and
twice as large around as a man's body. They
must needs have strength to drive such a
weight of steel through the water at such a
speed. Each bears on its tip end outside the
ship a screw propeller of manganese bronze,
each blade of which weighs four and one-half
tons. They are the work of that great Ger-
man, Herr Krupp of Essen, and they represent
the acme of the art of steel-making. Upon

have been an impossibility a few years ago,
not only for mechanical reasons, but because
she could not have been made to pay. The
** Deutschland " carries no freight and almost
no express. She is wholly a passenger and
mail steamer ; and she is now a possibility
because people are
richer, and every
year more of them
travel back and
forth between
Europe and Amer-
ica. And to make
such a speed as
that indicated for
the **Deutsch-
land" means that
so much room is
required by the
power-producing
machinery and
coal that there
really is not any
space for a large
cargo. But for
her purpose — that
of canning 1750
passengers across
the Atlantic in
the least possible
space of time and
with the greatest
luxury — the
**Deutschland"
is the perfection

THE workman's DINNER-TIME.

With a woman beside him, eating bis rye bread, in silence for the
mo8t part, and yet with contentment."

of the shipbuilder's
art.
Some few facts about the new ship may
help to a realization of what a great modem
ocean liner really is, and how absolutely com-
plete she must be made in every particular.
The " Deutschland," for instance, has a com-
plete refrigerating plant, four hospitals, a
safety deposit vault for the immense quan-
tities of gold and silver which pass between
the banks of Europe and America, light
kitchens, a complete post-office with Ger-
man and American clerks, thirty electrical
motors, thirty-six pumps, most of them of
American and English make, no fewer than
its arrival from the mills, the shaft is in five seventy-two steam engines, a complete drug

parts, and it looks rough and coarse. But
the workmen at the Vulcan fit the pieces one
by one into an enormous lathe, and plane
them down as a cabinet-maker would turn
the leg of a chair. We saw such a lathe at
work, and picked up fine shavings of nickel
steely curled and strong as a clock spring.
Such a vessel as the *' Deutschland " would

store, a complete fire department, with
pumps, hose, and other fire-fighting machin-
ery, a library, 2,600 electric lights, two
barber shops, room for an orchestra and
brass band, a telegraph system, a telephone
system, a complete printing establishment,
a photographic dark-room, a cigar store, an
electric fire-alarm system, and aspecial re-

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HOW McQRATH GOT AN ENGINE,

443

fngerator for flowers. And she is one of
tl^^twp great foreign liners having four
fnnnelsj the other is the '' Kaiser Wilhelm
der Grosse.'' That is the way that these
two leviathans may be known from all
other ships. She also has the usual two
masts. They look stubby enough when
mounted on her vast bulk, and yet they
are^so tall that the '' Deutschland " could
not get under the Brooklyn Bridge at New

York, and so large around that while they,
are building, a man lies inside of them driv-'
ing rivets.

When we last saw the " Deutschland,"
great dabs of red and white chalk marks
covered her steel sides from stem to stem.
Some Grerman workman, with feeling for the
monster on whom he had so long been toil-
ing, had scrawled in big letters, ''Gluck
auf"—" Good luck!"

HOW McGRATH GOT AN ENGINE.

By Frank H. Spearman,

Author of "The Nerve of Foley," "The MiUion-Dollnr Freight Train," and Other Stories.

THE WIPER'S FLYING TRIP ON EXTRA No. 240.

THIS came about through there being
whiskers on the rails. It may not be
generally understood that whiskers grow on
steel rails ; but, curious as it seems, they do.
Moreover, on steel rails they are dangerous ;
and, at times, exceedingly dangerous.

Do not infer that all steel rails grow
whiskers; nor is it, as one might suppose,
only the old rails that sport them. The
youngest rail on the curve may boast as
stout a beard as the oldest rail on the tan-
gent, and one just as gray. They flourish,
too, in spite of orders; for while whiskers
are permitted on engineers and tolerated on
conductors, they are never encouraged on
rails. Nature, however, provides the whis-
kers, regardless of discipline, and, what is
more, shaves them herself.

Their culture depends on conditions. Some
months grow better whiskers than others:
September is famous for whiskers, while
July grows none at all. Whiskers, will grow
on steel rails in the air of a single night;
but not every night air will produce whiskers.
It takes a high, frosty air, one that stays
out late, to make whiskers. Take, for ex-
ample, the night air of the Black Hills; it is
known everywhere among steel rails as a
beard tonic. The day's moisture, falling as
the sun drops beyond the hills, is drawn into
feathery, jeweled crystals of frost on the
chilly steel, as a glass of ice-water beads in
summer shade; and these dewy stalagmites
rise in a dainty profusion, until when day
peeps into the canons the track looks like a
pair of long white streamers winding up and
down the levels. But beware that track.

It is a very dangerous track, and its pos-
sibilities lie where Samson's lay — in the
whiskers.

So it lies in early morning, as pretty a
death-trap as any flower that ever lured a
fly; only this pitfall waits for engines and
trains and men— and sometimes, too, gets
them.

It waits there on the mountain grades, in
an ambush really deadly for an unwary train,
until the sun, which is particularly lazy in'
the fall, peeping over into the cuts, smiles,
at length, on the bearded steel as if it were
too funny, and the whiskers vanish into thin
air.

A smooth-faced rail presents no especial
dangers; and if trainmen in the Hills had
their way, they would never turn a wheel
until the sun had done barbering. But dis-
patchers not having to do with them take no
account of whiskers. They make only the
schedules, and the whiskers make the trouble.
To lessen their dangers, engineers always
start, up hill or down, with a tankful of
sand, and they sand the whiskers. It is
rough barbering, but it helps the driver-tires
grit a bit into the face of the rail, and in
that way hang on. In this emergency a
tankful of sand is better than all the air
Westinghouse ever stored.

Aloysius McGrath was a little sweeper;
but he was an aspiring one, for even a
sweeper may aspire, and in point of fact
most of them do aspire. Aloysius worked
in the round-house at the head of the Wind
River pass on the West End Mountains, ft

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444

HOW McGRATH GOT AN ENGINE,

is an amazingly rough country; and as for
grades, it takes your breath merely to look
down the levels. Three per cent., four per
cent., five per cent. — it is really frightful!
But Aloysius was used to heavy falls ; he had
begun working for the company as a sweeper
under Jojinnie Horigan, and no engineer
would have thought of running a gi^e to
compare with Johnnie's headers.

Horigan was the first boss Aloysius ever
had. Now Aloysius, if caught just right, is
a very pretty name, but Johnnie Horigan
could make nothing whatever of it, so he
called Aloysius Cooney, as he said, for short
— Cooney McGrath — and, by the way, if you
will call that McGraw, we shall be started
right. As for Horigan, he may be called
anything; at least it is certain that on the
West End he has been called everything.

Johnnie was ordinarily boss sweeper. He
had suffered numerous promotions— several
times to wiper, and once to hostler; but his
tendency to celebrate these occasions usually
cost him his job, and he reverted to sweep-
ing. If he had not been such an inoffensive,
sawed-off little old nubbin he wouldn't have
been tolerated on the pay rolls ; but he had
been with the company so long and dis-
charged so often that foremen grew tired
of trying to get rid of him, and, in spite of
his very irregular habits, he was hanging on
somewhere all the time.

When Johnnie was gone, using the word in
at least two senses, Aloysius Cooney McGrath
became, ipso facto, boss sweeper. It hap-
pened first one Sunday morning, just after
pay day, when Johnnie applied to the fore-
man for permission to go to church. Per-
mission was granted, and Johnnie started
for church; but it is doubtful whether he
ever found it. At all events, he turned up
again at the round-house at the end of three
weeks, considerably the worse for his at-
tempt to locate the house of prayer— which
he had tried to find only after he had been
kicked out of every other place in town.

Aloysius had improved the interval by
sweeping the round-house as it never had
been swept before ; and when Johnnie Hori-
gan returned, morally disfigured, Aloysius
McGrath was already promoted to be wiper
over his old superior. Johnnie was in no
wise envious. His only move was to turn
the misfortune to account for an ulterior
purpose, and he congratulated the boy, af-
fecting that he had stayed away to let them
see what stuff the young fellow was made
of. This put him in a position to negotiate
a small loan from his pro^j— a position of

which he never neglected the possibilities.
It was out of the question to be mad very
long at Johnnie, though one might be very
often.

After Aloysius got to wiping, he expected
very soon to be firing. But he wiped many
months, and there came no promotion. The
trouble was, there were no new crews added
to the engine service. Nobody got killed ;
nobody quit; nobody died. One, two, and
three years without a break, and little
Aloysius had become a bigger Aloysius, and
was still wiping: ho became also discour-
aged.

** Never y' mind, never y' mind, Cooney,"
old Johnnie would say. ** It'll come all
right. You'll get y'r ingin' yet. Lind me
a couple till pay-a-day, Cooney, will you?
I'll wahrant y' y'r ingin' yet, Cooney."
Which little assurance always cost Aloysius
two dollars till pay day, and no end of trouble
getting it back ; for when he attempted col-
lection, Johnnie took a very dark view of
the lad's future, alluding vaguely to people
who were hard-hearted and ungrateful to
their best friends. And though Aloysius
paid slight attention to the old sweeper's
vaporings, he really was in the end the means
of the boy's getting his engine.

After three years of panic and hard times
on the mountain division, the mines began
to reopen, new spurs were laid out, new con-
struction crews were put on, and a new ac-
tivity was everywhere apparent. But to fill
the cup of Aloysius' woe, the new crews
were all sent up from McCloud. That they
were older men in the order of promotion
was cold comfort — Aloysius felt crowded
out. He went very blue, and the next time
Johnnie applied for a loan till the usual day,
Aloysius rebuffed him unfeelingly; this in
turn depressed John.

** Never mind, never mind, Cooney. I'll
not be speakin' t' Neighbor agin t' set y'
up. If y' like wipin', stick to ut. I'll not
be troublin' Neighbor agin." Johnnie pro-
fessed a great pull with the master mechanic.

That Aloysius might feel still more the
sting of his coldness, Johnnie for some days
paid much court to the new firemen and en-
gine runners. Nothing about the house was
too good for them, and as the crafty sweeper
never overlooked an opportunity, he was in
debt to most of the brotherhood before the
end of the week.

But the memorable morning for Aloysius
came shortly thereafter. It was one of
those keen October mornings that bite so in
the Hills. The construction train, Extrap
-^—-^ " — O

HOW McGRATH GOT AN ENGINE.

446

No. 240 West, had started about five o'clock
down from the head of the pass with a load
of steel for the track layers, and stopped for
a bite of breakfast at Wind River. Above
the round-house there is a switchback. When
the train pulled in, the crew got off for some
hot coffee. Johnnie Horigan was around
playing good fellow, and he climbed into the
cab to run the train through the switchback
while the crews were at the eating-house.
It was irregular to leave the engine, but
they did, and as for Johnnie Horigan, he was
regularly irregular. There were sixteen cars
of steel in the string, besides a cabooseful of
laborers. The backing up the leg of the nip-
per was easy. After the switch was newly
set, Johnnie pulled down the lower leg;

and that was too easy, considering the
whiskers.

When he pulled by the eating-house on the
down grade, he was going so lively with his
flats that he was past before the crew
could get out of the lunch-room. In just
one minute everybody in Wind River was in
trouble: the crew, because their train was
disappearing down the canon; the eating-
house man, because nobody paid him for his
coffee; and Johnnie Horigan, because he
found it impossible to stop. He had dumped
the sand, he had applied the air, he had re-
versed the engine— by all the rules laid down
in the instruction car she ought to stop.
But she didn't stop, and — this was the em-
barrassing feature — she was headed down

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446

HOW MvGRATH GOT AN ENGINE,

a hill twenty miles long, with curves to
puzzle a boa constrictor. John hung his
head wildly over the drivers, looked back at
the yelling crew, and contemplated the load
that was pushing him down the grade ; and
his head began to swim. There appeared
but one thing more to do : that was to make
a noise ; and as he neared the round-house he
whistled like the wind. Aloysius O'Cooney
HcGrath,at the alann,darted out of the house
like a fox. As he reached the door he saw
the construction train coming, and Johnnie
Horigan standing in the gangway looking
for a soft place to light.

The wiper charted the situation in a men-
tal second. The train was running away,
and Horigan was leaving it to its fate.
From any point of view it was a tough propo-
sition, but tough propositions come rarely
to ambitious railroad men, and Aloysius was
starving for any sort of a proposition that
would help him out of the waste. The labor-
ers in the caboose, already bewildered, were
craning anxiously from the windows. Hori-
gan, opposite the round-house, jumped in a
sprawl ; and the engine shot past Aloysius so
quickly that boarding was out of the question.

But on the siding stood a couple of flats,
empty ; and with his hair straight on centers,
the little wiper ran for them and mounted
the nearest. The steel train was jumping.
Aloysius, bunching his muscle, ran the length
of the two flats for a head, and, from the far
corner, threw himself across the gap like a
bat on a load of the runaway steel. Scram-
bling to his feet, he motioned and yelled to
the hoboes, who were pouring frantic out on
the hind flat of the string, to set brakes;
then he made ahead for the engine.

It was a race with the odds all wrong,
for with every yard Aloysius gained, the train
gained twenty. By the time he reached the
tender, breathless, and slid down the coal
into the deserted cab, the train was head-
ing into Little Horn gap, and every Italian
aboard, instead of twisting brakes, was yell-
ing for life. Aloysius jumped into the levers,
poked his head through the window, and
looked at the drivers. They were in the
back motion, and in front of them the sand
was streaming wide open. The first thing
he did was to shut it half off — the fight
could not be won by wasting ammunition.
Over and over again he jerked at the air.
It was refusing its work. Where so many a
hunted runner has turned for salvation there
was none for Aloysius. He opened and
closed, threw on and threw off; it was all
one, and all useless. The situation was as

simple as it was frightful. Unless the speed
could be at least partly checked, either the
engine would leave the track going into a
curve, or the fiats would leave it going out.
Even if they didn't leave the track, they
were certain to smash into Number Sixteen,
the up-passenger, which must meet them
somewhere on the hill.

Aloysius's fingers closed slowly on the
sand lever. There was nothing on earth
for it but sand, simply sand ; and even the
wiper's was oozing with the stream that
poured from the tank on the whiskered rails.
He shut off a bit more, thinking of the ter-
rific curves below, and mentally calculated —
or tried to — how long his steam would last
to reverse the drivers — how he could shovel
coal and sand the curves at the same time
— and how much slewing the Italians at the
tail of the kite could stand without landing
on the rocks.

The pace was giddy and worse. When his
brain was whirling fastest, a man put his
hand on his shoulder. Aloysius started as
if Davy Jones had tapped him, and between
bounces looked scared around. He looked
into a face he didn't know from Adam's, but
there was sand in the eyes that met his.

** What can I do?"

Aloysius saw the man's lips move, and,
without taking his hands from the levers,
bent his head to catch the words.

** What can I do ?" shouted the man at
his elbow.

** Give me some steam — steam," cried the
wiper, looking straight ahead.

It was the foreman of the steel gang from
the caboose. Aloysius, through the backs
of his eyes, saw him grab the shovel and
make a pass at the tender. Doing so, he
nearly took a header through the gangway,
but he hung to the shovel and braced him-
self better.

With the next attempt he got a shovelful
into the cab, but in the delivery passed it
well up Aloysius' neck. There were neither
words nor grins, but just another shovelful
of coal a minute after; and the track-layer,
in spite of the dizzy lurching, shot it where
it belonged— into the furnace. Feeling that
if one shovelful could be landed, more could,
Aloysius' own steam rose. As they headed
madly around the Cinnamon bend the dial
began to climb in spite of the obstacles ; and
the wiper, considering there were two, and
the steam and the sand to fight the thing
out, opened his valve and dusted the whiskers
on the curve with something more than a
gleam of hope. ^ t

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448

HOW McGRATH GOT AN ENGINE.

If there was confusion on the runaway
train, there was terror and more below it.
As the spectre flitted past Pringle station,
five miles down the valley, the agent caught
a glimpse of the sallow face of the wiper
at the cab window, and saw the drivers
whirling backward. He rushed to his key
and called the Medicine Bend dispatcher.
With a tattoo like a drum-roll the dispatcher
in turn called Soda Springs, ten miles below
Pringle, where Number Sixteen, the up-pas-
senger, was then due. He rattled on with
his heart in his fingers, and answer came on
the instant. Then an order flashed into
Soda Springs :

To No. 16 :
Take Soda Springs siding quick. Extra No. 240

West has lost control of the train.

Dl.

There never was such a bubbling at Soda
Springs as that bubbling. The operator tore
up the platform like a hawk in a chicken yard.
Men never scattered so quick as when Number
Sixteen began screaming and wheezing and
backing for the clear. Above the town,
Aloysius, eyes white to the sockets, shooting
the curves like a meteor, watched his lessen-
ing stream of sand pour into the frost on the
track. As they whipped over bridges and
fills the caboose reeled like a dying top —
fear froze every soul on board. To leave
the track now meant a scatter that would
break West End records.

When Soda Springs sighted Extra No. 240
West, pitching down the mountain, the steel
dancing behind and Aloysius jumping before,
there was a painful sensation — the sensation
of good men who see a disaster they are
powerless to avert. Nor did Soda Springs
know how desperate the wiper's extremity
had become. Not even the struggling steel
foreman knew that with Soda Springs pass-
ing like the films of a cinematograph, and
two more miles of down-grade ahead, the
last cupful of sand was trickling from the
wiper's tank. Aloysius, at that moment,
wouldn't' have given the odd change on a
pay check for all the chances Extra 240 and
himself had left. He stuck to his levers
merely because there was no particular rea-
son for letting go. It was only a question
of how a man wanted to take the rocks.
Yet, with all his figuring, Aloysius had lost
sight of his only salvation — maybe because
it was quite out of his power to effect it him-
self. But in making the run up to Soda
Springs Number Sixteen had already sanded
the rails below.

He could feel the help the minute the

tires ground into the grit. They began to
smoke, and Aloysius perceived the grade
was easing somewhat. Even the dazed fore-
man, looking back, saw an improvement in the
lurch of the caboose. There was one more
hair-raiser ahead — the appalling curve at
the forks of the Goose. But, instead of being
hurled over the elevation, they found them-
selves around it and on the bridge with only
a vicious slew. Aloysius' hair began to lie
down, and his heart to rise up. He had her
checked — even the hoboes knew it— and a
mile further, with the dangers past, they
took new ones by dropping off the hind end.

At the second bend below the Goose,
Aloysius made a stop, and began again to
breathe. A box was blazing on the tender
truck, and, with his handy fireman, he at once
got down to doctor it. The whole thing
shifted so mortally quick from danger to
safety that the two never stopped to inven-
tory their fears; they seemed to have vanished
with the frost that lured them to destruc-
tion. They jumped together into the
cab ; and — whistling at the laborers strung
back along the right of way— Extra No. 240
West began backing pluckily up hill to Soda
Springs. The first man who approached the
cab as they slowed down for the platform —
in fact, people rather stood back for him —
was Bucks, Superintendent of the Division ;
his car had come in attached to Number Six-
teen.

" How did your train get away from you?**
he asked of Aloysius ; but his words were
bitten with frost ; there was neither specu-
lation nor sympathy in his manner. •

" It didn't get away from me," retorted
Aloysius, who had never before in his Kfe
seen the man, and was not aware that he
owed him any money. But the operator at
the Springs, who knew Aloysius and the Super-
intendent both, was standing behind the
latter doing a pantomime that would shame
a medicine man.

"Quick talking will do more for you than
smart talking," replied the Superintendent,
crisply. ** You'll never get a better chance —
while you're working for this company— to
explain yourself."

Aloysius himself began to think so, for
the nods and winks of the operator were be-
wildering. He tried to speak up, but the
foreman of the steel gang put in :

" See here, sport," he snapped, irreverently,
at the angry official. " Why don't you cool
your hat before you jump a fellow like
that ?"

" What business is it of yoimhow I jump
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HOW McGRATH GOT AN ENGINE,

449

a fellow ? " returned the Superintendent,
sharply. "Who are you ? "

" Tm only foreman of this steel gang, my
friend ; and I don't take any back talk from
anybody."

"In that case," responded Bucks, with
velvet sarcasm, " perhaps you will explain
things. Jm only Superintendent of this
division — ^that's all ; but it's customary to
inquire into matters of this kind."

Aloysius nearly sank to the platform at
the words ; but the master of the hoboes,
who had all the facts, went at the big man
as if he had been one of the gang, and did
not falter till he had covered the perspiring
wiper with glory.

"What* 8 the reason the air wouldn't work?"
asked the Superintendent, turning, without
comment, to Aloysius, when the tracklayer
had finished.

" I haven't had time to find out, sir."

" Find out and report to me. Whaf s your
name?"

"McGrath."

" McGraw, eh ? Well, McGraw, look close
into the air. There may be something in it
for you. You did the firing?" he added,
turning short again on the unabashed steel
foreman.

" What there was done."

" I'll do a little now myself. I'll fire you
right here and now for impertinence."

"I suppose you're the boss," responded
the man of ties, imperturbably. " When I
made the crack, I'd made it harder if I had
known who you were."

" You know now, don't you ?"

" I guess so."

"Very good," said Bucks, in his mildest
tones. " If you will report to me at Medicine
Bend this afternoon, I'll see whether we
can't find something better for your manners
than cursing hoboes. You can ride down in
my car, sport. What do you say? That
will save you transportation."

It brought a yell from the railroad men
crowding around, for that was Bucks' way
of doing things ; and the men liked Bucks
and his way. The ex-captain of the dagoes

tried to look cool, but in point of fact went
very sheepish at his honors.

Followed by a mob, eager to see the finish,
Superintendent Bucks made his way up the
track along the construction train to where
Aloysius and the engineer of Number Sixteen
were examining the air. They found it
frozen between the first and the second car.
Bucks heard it all — heard the whole story.
Then he turned to his cterk.

"Discharge both crews of Extra 240 and
blacklist them. Fire Johnnie Horigan."

"Yes, sir."

"McGrath, run your train back to Wind
River behind us. We'll scare up a conductor
here somewhere ; if we can't, I'll be your
conductor. Make your report to Medicine
Bend," Bucks added, speaking to the opera-
tor ; and without further worfs walked back
to his car.

As he turned away, the engineer of Num-
ber Sixteen slapped Aloysius on the back :

"Kid, why the blazes didn't you thank
him?"

"Who?"

"Bucks."

"What for?"

" What for ? Jiminey Christmas ! What
for ? Didn't he just make you an engineer ?
Didn't he just say, * Run your train back be-
hind us to Wind River '? "

"My train?"

"Sure, your train. Do you think Bucks
ever says a thing like that without meaning
it ? You bet not."

Bucks' clerk, too, was a little uncertain
about the promotion. " I suppose he's com-
petent to run the train back, isn't he ? " he
asked of Bucks, suggestively.

Bucks was scrawling a message.

"A man that could hold a train from
Wind River here on whiskers, with noth-
ing but a tankful of sand and a hobo
fireman, wouldn't be likely to fall oflf the
right of way running back," he returned
d^ly. " He's been wiping for years, hasn't
he ? We haven't got half enough men like
McGrath. Tell Neighbor to give him an
engine."

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A Roman bridge acron the Jordan a few miiee above Betkabara,

-^^r>-

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

By the Reverend John Watson, D.D.,

Aathor of ** The Mind of the Master," ** Beside the Bonnie Brier Bosh/* etc.

Illustrated from Paintings and Drawings by Corwin Knapp Linson.
PART IX.— A LAST ENCOUNTER.

DURING the week before Calvary our
Master spent, for the most part, His
nights at Bethany and His days in the tem-
ple. The conspiracy for His judicial mur-
der, to which the Pharisees had devoted so
much pains, and for which they had made
such an immense sacrifice of honor, was now
complete. Any day and any hour He might
be arrested, and His mouth closed ; and dur-
ing the few days that He was at liberty He
packed into the time some of His most im-
portant teachings, giving the parables of
Judgment — the parables of the Two Sons
and the Ten Virgins, the parables of the Re-
jected Comer-stone and the Wicked Hus-
bandmen, and the parable of the Great As-
size. During this time, also, He gave final
comfort and instruction to His disciples in
the discourses of the ** Upper Room."

It was fitting that before His mouth was
closed He should have a final meeting with
His adversaries, and it was a very appropri-
ate circumstance that this meeting should
be held in the temple, and in the face of all
the people. One by one the representatives

of the classes which were against Jesus ap-
proached Him, and one by one they tried
Him in final conflict. No display of sweet
reasonableness on His part could, of course,
avert the issue — the cross was inevitable —
but during the two days in which He was
engaged in this conflict He achieved a tri-
umph which the cross could never take from
Him. It is the meanest of all victories,
when you have been defeated in fair argu-
ment, to strike a man full upon the mouth.
Jesus obtained the crown — the crown of
gold, and the thorns were left upon the head
of the Pharisees. Behind the deputations
who approached Jesus you can always see
the faces of the Pharisees, and with one ex-
ception there is not an attack made upon
Jesus which they did not inspire.

The first deputation came from the Coun-
cil, representing the whole body — elders,
scribes, and priests ; but when you look at
the questions which they put to Jesus, you
can feel that the priests and the elders had
comparatively little share in it. The first
question was the question of the Pharisees.

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON

451

Their line all through was one of simple-
minded inquiry, and also of ostentatious def-
erence. The Master had now come to Jeru-
salem, and they were glad to welcome Him.
The people were gathered together, and
were in a very receptive condition. Many
questions had been agitating the public mind,
and there might have been some difference
of opinion; now there was an opportunity
for His removing every doubt they had ever
had, and also of meeting all their difficulties.
As candid men anxious to do what was right
by Him, and as members of the Council,
anxious to do their best by the people com-
mitted to their charge, they would now afford
Him full scope. The Pharisees' question
runs at large after this fashion: ** As you
are aware," they
said, addressing
Jesus,** the Almighty
has been pleased to
send great prophets
to our people, and
they have declared
the knowledge of His
work; but of course
there are false
prophets, as there are
true prophets, and it
is necessary to make
a careful distinction.
As the Council of the
nation— the men of
the greatest learning
and position, and the
men charged with the
responsibility of the
people's spiritual
well-being, the
decision must
rest with us ;
and it has been
our custom to
decide whether
a man was a
true prophet or
not; and if he
was, to give him
owr imprimatur.
We have been
unable up to
this date to give
youourcommis-
sion, and there
have been col-
lisions between
us. This has
been a matter
of regret to us.

as no doubt it has been to you ; but we notice'
that you are preaching ; and as we gave you
no authority and we are sure that you would
not preach without some sanction, let this
matter be finally settled. In the face of the
people, tell us from whom didst Thou receive
Thine authority."

Of course the suggestion was that Christ
had no authority — that He was a man eaten
up with personal vanity and infected with
false doctrine, who was running on His own
responsibility, and playing mischief in the
community. It was a very skilful question,
because behind the Pharisees were a people
who did respect the Council, and who did
honor the prophets sanctioned by the Coun-
cil, and any kind of answer He gave to the
question was likely to bring
Him into trouble. They had
been defeated often by Jesus,
and I should suppose they had
some misgivings, but on this

THE BUND MAN Afftj THE
PHARISEES.

Then auain called they the man
that watt blind, and said unto him,
Gife God the praise : we knonf that
thtH man in a atnner. lie ansitered
and said, tVhether he be a sinner or
HO, I knotp not : one thing I know,
that, whereas J teas blind, now I
. , Then they reviled him.
-JOBS, ix. 2i, ^, 29.

Oiu- has here a picture of the
ptTHistfiit Imte of the Jews and
of their determination to see no
^ood either in Jesus or his work.—
AKTiST*8 Not*.

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452

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER,

occasion they felt pretty
sure of success.

Now there was no need
for Jesus to explain to
the representatives of
the Council the authority
He had for His mission,
any more than a prophet
like Amos required to ex-
plain to the priest of
Bethel what right he had
to come from Tekoa and
thunder against the un-
righteousness of the peo-
ple. The right of Jesus
lay in the reasonable
words He spake, and in
the spiritual work which
He had done— the only
real commission which
any prophet can have,
and which he can show
from hand to hand to
people of all creeds and
all classes. He had come
from God, He might have
said ; and the proof was
that He spake as never man spake regarding
the great mysteries of life and of God. They
denied His orders, because His orders had
not come from the Jewish Council — had not
come, that is to say, from the infamous high
priest and from the hypocritical Pharisees.
He could stand and say, '* These words are
the vindication of My message, and what I
have done is the seal of My orders."

But He knew the Pharisees well ; and now,
since the time had gone past for mercy be-
tween Him and them, He might as well ad-
minister to them a wholesome humiliation.
They had asked Him a question, with assur-
ance and arrogance, in face of the people.
He would ask them another ; and when His

question was answered, He would answer
theirs. It was quite within the sphere of
their work, and closely connected with their
own inquiry — a fair, open, and straightfor-
ward question. ' * You Pharisees are judges ?
I shall admit for the moment your claim that
no [irophet ought to preach except with your
ap])roval ; and now I come to My question.
I am not the only prophet that has addressed
this generation. Before Me went one who
was greater than all the prophets of the
past. He attracted your attention, and yon
heard him. Will you tell Me, and will you
tell these people now and here — the people
whom you have gathered together to hear
My answer — whether John's baptism and
tJohn hunself were of God or no ? "

Most simple questions were these, but
they showed that when Jesus considered it
becoming to use methods of argument in
keei)ing with the Pharisees' mind, they had
as little chance with Him on the lower as on
the higher levels of His teaching. An easy-
answer ! —which answer ? If they stood for-
ward, and said, John was of God, then Jesus
had replied in a moment, " And you did not
obey Him. What of your Council, what of
your authority, what of your moral charge
of the people?" They might have said,
and they were simply itching to say, that
the Baptist was not of God — that he was an
insolent and self-sent man. They looked
round the faces of the people, and already
they saw the. people's hands stooping for
the stones, and they dared not ; for if any
man had denied that John was a prophet, his
reputation, if not his life, had been gone
that day. They were cunning men, and they
were accustomed to snares; and they saw
the snare, and would not walk into it. ** We
do not know; we cannot tell." ** Neither
shall I tell you My authority." And in the
presence of the whole people He put the
Pharisees, for the last time, to shame, and
He did so with their own weapons.

Next day a very different deputation ap-

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON

453

>^-i:

miserable, tinselled court, it would disap-
pear, and every man in it. What a clever
thing it would be if Jesus could be forced
into a political difficulty, and be obliged to
pass His opinion upon the rightfulness or
wrongfulness of submitting to the Roman
yoke! If Jesus were obliged to declare
against the Roman Government, then latent
patriotism had burst into a flame, and Herod's
throne had been in danger. If, on the other

preached Him, and it might be supposed that
they came of their own accord. As the
Gk)spels, however, put it, and as we our-
selves know from the action of the Phari-
sees, this deputation consisted of puppets
— well-dressed, but empty-headed puppets,
dancing at the pulling of the Pharisees'
strings. Between the Herodians — that is to
say, speaking in quite a general way, the
people attached to the Court of Herod — and
Jesus there had been no conflict. In their
eyes He was a vulgar fanatic, and to Him
they were people who preferred a dancing-
girl to John the Baptist. When you see
them face to face, this group of courtiers
in purple and fine linen, with high looks,
and with mincing speech, and opposite them
Jesus in His plain and peasant garments,
you see this present world incarnate in its
basest and meanest form, and you see Jesus
unafraid, confident, spiritual, with vision
reaching beyond this temple and its disputes,
beyond the cross and death, the preacher of
the unseen world— the world of righteous-
ness, peace, and joy.

The Herodians would never have dreamt
of asking any question of Jesus, had they
not been moved by the Pharisees. The
Herodians had no position whatever among
the people except in connection with the
court, and the favor of Rome was the life
of Herod. If the people should turn against
the Herodians, or if the Roman Emperor
should withdraw his support from Herod's

TYPES OP PHARISEES.

. . . They make broad their phylacteriea, and enlarge the
border* of their ffarmentt, and love the uppermott room* at
feasts, and the chief seats in the synagogues . . . and to be
called of men. Rabbi, Habbi.—yiATt. xxlU. *-7.

hand, He declared in favor of the Roman
Government, then the people had left Him,
and it was doubtful whether He would have
escaped from the temple with His life.

They come to Him, these Herodians, with
great courtesy and with all the manners of
a court ; they tell Him how much they think
of Him ; they tell Him how much they de-
pend upon His advice ; they assure Him that
He is a man uplifted above the world, and
indifferent to human opinion. Behind the
courtiers, with their false, honeyed words,
bending before the Master, we can see the
Pharisees, who have briefed the empty Hero-
dians with the courteous speech, suggesting
to them at every turn what they shall do.
** All we desire to know is this (you can tell

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BlU a certain Samaritan .

THE GOOD SAMARITAN.

. when he saw hlm^ he had compassion on him^ and went to him^ and bound
up his wounds.— LvKX, x. 33-3 (.

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON.

455

US true, of all men) : Is it lawful to pay tribute
to Caesar?"

As far as one can feel the narrative, the
Herodians never gave Jesus a single serious
thought, and He did not answer them. He
looked beyond them at the hypocrites, who
desired to put a great prophet into a dilemma
— ^a dilemma either of revolution or of treason
to His country. ** Bring Me," said Jesus,
'* a penny.'' Although He was that day the
center of the temple crowd, and though that

then settle the greater question which you
have not settled and are not willing to settle
— the question of the kingship of conscience
and the rule of righteousness over your
souls."

When this was over, we are willing to be-
lieve that the Pharisees were not prepared
for another attack ; but the local jealousy of
the Council, although allayed for a little in
order that both parties might unite in the
persecution of Jesus, was still existent, and

day He would easily lay in
the dust every one of His
opponents, He does not seem
to have even had a purse or a
single coin. '* Bring Me,"
He said, ** a penny." And
the group come closer and
bring it, the Herodians not understanding,
and the Pharisees watching and beginning to
tremble. ** Whose is this image and super-
scription?" said Jesus; and they said,
'* Caesar's." **You come, then, to ask
whether you ought to pay tribute to Caesar or
not, while Caesar's money is running in your
land ; and you know as well as I do, that if you
accept the king's coinage you have owned the
king's government. You ask Me a political
question. Pharisees, when did I ever meddle
with your local politics, when did I ever cre-
ate disturbances in this land, when did I ever
preach a revolution ? Do you remember a
man coming to Me down in Galilee, and ask-
ing Me to settle between him and his brother
because they had quarrelled over an inherit-
ance, and I refused, as I ever refuse, to have
anything to do with worldly affairs ? Mine
is a spiritual kingdom. I come not to ar-
range your relation to the Roman Govern-
ment; I have told you I came to deal ^vith
your souls. I warned you that you were
slaves not to Rome, but to your sins. Settle
with the Herodians the question of Caesar ;
settle with Pilate the question of Pilate ; and

ALONG THE WEST SHORE — SEA OF GAULEE.
The shore of the lake is generally low, and only on the
western side, just north of Tiberias, is it at all precipitous.
Here it is rocky and steep for some distance, until it slopes
into the plain of Gennesaret.— Artist's Notb.

came into evidence. The Sadducees— that
is, the priests and sceptical portion of the
nation — came forward in their own person ;
and if one desires to understand the charac-
ter of the Jewish priesthood and the coarse-
ness of the lower scepticism, let him read
the question that they put to Jesus. They
did not believe in a future life; and not be-
lieving in the future life, they did not be-
lieve in any of the beautiful things which
are unseen and eternal. They were not men
in earnest; they were not thinking men;
they were men with cheap objections and
clever gibes; and now they came with one
of their miserable mockeries at the greatest
Hope which has ever lived in the liuman
heart — the Hope of the future life.

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456

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

I t

A Strert tn Tiberias.

One of their pet jests had gone the round
of their feasts at Jerusalem, when they had
drunk too much wine, and their hearts were
gross within them; and the man who had
introduced it had ever since been considered
a wit — a man with a searching intellect,
quick to dispel foolish delusions and maudlin
sentiment about a future life. '' If there is
to be a future," they ask, ''what would
happen in a case like this ? According to
our law, when a man dies and leaves a widow
who is childless, his brother has to marry

her; so it came to pass that there
were seven brothers, and six married
their brother's widow in turn; now,
in the life to come, whose wife shall
she be ? " They uttered this in the
face of the people ; it is incredible,
but they repeated it looking into the
eyes of Jesus Christ.

What He suffered on that occa-
sion, and on many others of the
same kind! They asked Him this
foul question in the house of God ;
and with scorn, although with evident
repression of Himself, He said to
them: "Jews, how can I speak to
you of the future life? It is impos-
sible, for you have not the souls to
appreciate or to inherit it: you care
nothing for the life to come."
Then, before He parted from the
subject, He lifted it, as He ever did,
on to its real level, and answered,
not these men, who could not have
understood the answer, but you and
me, when in our low moments we
lose the hope of everlasting life.
His answer was in a Jewish form,
but the kernel of it is easily found.
•* Was God the God of Abraham, of
Isaac, and of Jacob ; or is He to-day
the God of Abraham, Isaac, and
Jacob ? If a man has in him the
heart to trust in God and the heart
to follow God through the seventy
or eighty years of this present life —
a heart to love God and to thirst for
God — is there no God to correspond
with that heart ? and if the man lies
down and dies, believing that he is
lying on the bosom of the Eternal,
is this, the noblest achievement of
the human soul, only a hideous delu-
sion ? Does not Abraham prove God
an eternal God ? And God is not
ashamed to-day because He has sat-
isfied Abraham." We have been
horrified at the indecency of the men
and at the pain of our Master ; and now we
could almost thank them, because from the
depths of their filthy imagination He has
raised the question at once to the heights
of light and supreme reason.

They left — we dare not hope they were
ashamed of themselves — and we feel that
the Herodians, Sadducees, and Pharisees
were not men who could understand the
Master. Are all His audience dark of mind
and gross of heart ? Those lips will soon
be closed in the dost of death ; and this, the

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"GOOD MEASURE, PRESSED DOWN."

Good measure^ pressed doivn, and shaken together^ and running over.— Luke, vi. 88. In the village
markets, and in the grain market in Jerusalem, the operation so graphically noted by Jesas is repeated in detail.
The receptacle is heaped up to a point, and the last grain, carefully dropped on the apex of the cone, completes
the ** good measure.'*— Artist's Notb.

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458

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

greatest Teacher that ever spoke to any
generation, will not be able to answer a
question. Is there no man who will seize this
last opportunity and ask a worthy question ?

At last, after all these deputations had
been swept away in confusion, an honest
scholar came to ask a question that had long
been lying in his mind. It was a point in
theology about which this scribe was per-
plexed, and it might be called pedantry, but
it was real ; and if you strip off the cover-
ing, it was a question that went to the root
of things. They had had an academic argu-
ment in the Jewish schools as to which was
the most important commandment, and this
man felt that the debate had a spiritual in-
terest. ** Master,'* he said (he comes to
Christ representing no person but himself),
** which is the chief commandment, that
when I know it I may keep it and receive
life everlasting ?"

As Jesus looks on him, the just scorn
which we saw a moment ago upon His face
passed away. Did Jesus ever argue and put
to confusion an honest man ? Never ; and
He never will. Everywhere and in all cir-
cumstances, if we be honest, though we
make mistakes, we shall have kindly judg-
ment at the hands of Jesus Christ. His face
softened, His eye brightened ; here is a man

after His own heart. They stand out to-
gether from among the people, our Master
and an honest man. '' Thou knowest,'' said
the Saviour, ** that, when the commandments
are summed up, the first of them is this,
* Love thy God ' ; and the second is this,
' Love thy neighbor ' ; and these together
are chief of all the commandments, and the
crown and the fruit of eternal life." He
might have argued a little, this scholar — and
there are people who have the heart — about
that commandment not being sufficient ; but
this was an ingenuous and a spiritual man.
** Master," he said, ** Thou hast said well;
Love is greatest," and then the whole of
the teaching of the prophets — of Amos,
Micah, and Isaiah — came pouring into his
mind, lit up by the touch of Jesus — ** Love,
Master, is all in all."

Again Jesus looked at him. Hypocrites
He had dealt with; fools He had dealt with;
sceptics He had dealt with ; but here was a
disciple. **Thou art not far," He said —
*' thou art not far from the kingdom of
Christ." And with these last gentle words,
in which we see the Master fling open the
door of the kingdom to all who have true
hearts and bid them enter, the final en-
counter of Jesus Christ with His enemies
closed in grace and charity.

(To be oontinued.)

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LONPON,

ACOB KENT had suffered
from cupidity all the days
of his life. This, in turn,
had engendered a chronic
distrustfulness, and his
mind and character had become so warped
that he was a very disagreeble man to deal
with. He was also a victim to somnambulic
propensities, and very set in his ideas. He
had been a weaver of cloth from the cradle,
until the fever of Klondike had entered his
blood and torn him away from his loom. His
cabin stood midway between Sixty Mile Post
and the Stuart River ; and men who made it
a custom to travel the trail to Dawson,
likened him to a robber baron, perched in his
fortress and exacting toll from the caravans
that used his ill-kept roads. Since a certain
amount of history was required in the con-
struction of this fifrwre, the less cultured

Author of " Grit of Women/' " The Son of the Wolf," etc.

wayfarers from Stuart River were prone to
describe him after a still more primordial
fashion, in which a command of intensive
adjectives was to be chiefly noted.

This cabin was not his, by the way, having
been built several years previously by a
couple of miners who had got out a raft of
logs at that point for a grub-stake. They
had been most hospitable lads, and, after
they abandoned it, travelers who knew the
route made it an object to arrive there at
nightfall. It was very handy, saving them
all the time and toil of pitching camp ; and
it was an unwritten rule that the last man
left a neat pile of fire- wood for the next
comer. Rarely a night passed but from half
a dozen to a score of men crowded into its
shelter. Jacob Kent noted these things,
exercised squatter sovereignty, and moved
in. Thenceforth, the weary travelers were
mulcted a dollar per head for the privilege
of sleeping on the floor, Jacob Kent weigh-
ing the dust and rarely failing to steal the
down-weight. Besides, he so contrived that
his transient guests chopped his wood for
him and carried his water. This was rank
piracy, but his victims were an easy-going
breed, and while they detested him, yet
they permitted him to flourish in his sins.

One afternoon in April he sat by his door,
for all the world like a predatory spider,
marveling at the heat of the returning sun,
and keeping an eye on the trail for prospective

Digitized by

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460

THE MAN WITH THE GASH.

flies. The Yukon lay at his feet, a sea of
ice, disappearing around two great bends to
the north and south, and stretching an
honest two miles from bank to bank. Over
its rough breast ran the sled-trail, a slender
sunken line, eighteen inches wide and two
thousand miles in length, with more curses
distributed to the linear foot than any other
road in or out of all Christendom.

Jacob Kent was feeling particularly good
that afternoon. The record had been broken
the previous night, and he had sold his
hospitality to no less than twenty-eight
visitors. True, it had been quite uncomfort-
able, and four had snored beneath his bunk
all night ; but then it had added apprecia-
ble weight to the sack in which he kept his
gold dust. That sack, with its glittering
yellow treasure, was at once the chief de-
light and the chief bane of his existence.
Heaven and hell lay within its slender
mouth. In the nature of things, there being
no privacy to his one-roomed dwelling, he was
tortured by a constant fear of theft. It would
be very easy for these bearded, desperate
looking strangers to make away with it.
Often he dreamed that such was the case,
and awoke in the grip of nightmare. A
select number of these robbers haunted him
through his dreams, and he came to know
them quite well, especially the bronzed
leader with the gash on his right cheek.
This fellow was the most persistent of the
lot, and, because of him, he had, in his wak-
ing moments, constructed several score of
hiding places in and about the cabin. After
a concealment he would breathe freely again,
perhaps for several nights, only to collar
the Man with the Gash in the very act of
unearthing the sack. Then, on awakening in
the midst of the usual struggle, he would at
once get up and transfer the bag to a new
and mote ingenious crypt. It was not that
he was the direct victim of these phantasms ;
but he believed in omens and thought-trans-
ference, and he deemed these dream-robbers
to be the astral projection of real person-
ages who happened at those particular
moments, no matter where they were in the
flesh, to be harboring designs, in the spirit,
upon his wealth. So he continued to
bleed the unfortunates who crossed his
threshold, and ac the same time to add to
his trouble with every ounce which went into
the sack.

As he sat sunning himself, a thought
came to Jacob Kent that brought him to
his feet with a jerk. The pleasures of life
had culminated in the continual weighing

and reweighing of his dust ; but a shadow
had been thrown upon this pleasant avoca-
tion, which he had hitherto failed to brush
aside. His gold-scales were quite small ; in
fact, their maximum was a pound and a half
— eighteen ounces — while his hoard mounted
up to something like three and a third times
that. He had never been able to weigh it
all at one operation, and hence considered
himself to have been shut out from a new
and most edifying coign of contemplation.
Being denied this, half the pleasure of pos-
session had been lost ; nay, he felt that this
miserable obstacle actually minimized the
fact, as it did the strength, of possession. It
was the solution of this problem flashing
across his mind that had just brought him
to his feet. He searched the trail carefully
in either direction. There was nothing in
sight, so he went inside.

In a few seconds he had the table cleared
away and the scales set up. On one side he
placed the stamped disks to the equivalent
of fifteen oimces, and balanced it with dust
on the other. Replacing the weights with
dust, he then had thirty ounces precisely
balanced. These, in turn, he placed together
on one side and again balanced with more
dust. By this time the gold was exhausted,
and he was sweating liberally. He trembled
with ecstasy, ravished beyond measure.
Nevertheless he dusted the sack thoroughly,
to the last least grain, till the balance was
overcome and one side of the scales sank to
the table. Equilibrium, however, was re-
stored by the addition of a pennyweight
and five grains to the opposite side. He
stood, he^ thrown back, transfixed. The
sack was empty, but the potentiality of the
scales had become immeasurable. Upon
them he could weigh any amount, from the
tiniest grain to pounds upon pounds. Mam- .
mon laid hot fingers on his heart. The sun
swung on its westering way till it flashed
through the open doorway, full upon the
yellow-burdened scales. The precious heaps,
like the golden breasts of a bronze Cleopatra,
flung back the light in a mellow glow. Time
and space were not.

** Gawd blime me ! but you 'ave the makin'
of several quid there, 'aven't you ?"

Jacob Kent wheeled about, at the same
time reaching for his double-barrelled shot-
gun, which stood handy. But when his eyes
lit on the intruder's face, he staggered back
dizzily. It was the face qf the Alan with the
Gash!

The man looked at him curiously.

" Oh, that's all right," he said, waving his

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THE MAN WITH THE GASH.

461

SELECT NUMBER OF THESE ROBBERS HAUNTED HIM THROUGH
HIS DREAMS . . . ESPECIALLY THE BRONZED LEADER
WITH THE GASH ON HIS RIGHT CHEEK."

think

hand, deprecatingly. "You needn't
as rU 'arm you or your blasted dust/*

"You're a rum 'un, you are," he added, re-
flectively, as he watched the sweat pouring
from off Kent's face and the quavering of
his knees.

" Wydon'tyoupipeupan' say somethin'?"
he went on as the other struggled for breath.
" Wot's gone wrong o' your gaff ? Anythink
the matter ? "

"W— w— where'd you get it?" Kent at
last managed to articulate, raising a shaking
fore-finger to the ghastly scar which seamed
the other's cheek.

" Shipmate stove me down with a marlin-
spike from the main-royal. An' now as you
'ave your figger'ead in trim, wot I want to
know is, wot's it to you ? That's wot I want

to know — ^wot's it to
you ? Gawd blime me !
do it 'urt you ? Ain't
it smug enough for the
likes o' you? Thafs
wot I want to know ! "
"No, no," Kent an-
swered, sinking upon a
stool with a sickly grin.
"I was just wonder-
' ing.'*

"Did you ever see
the like ? " the other went on,
truculently.
"No."

"Ain'titabeute?"
" Yes," Kent nodded his head,
approvingly, intent on humoring
this strange visitor, but wholly
unprepared for the outburst which
was to follow his effort to be
agreeable.

" You blasted, bloomin', burgoo-
eatin' son-of-a-sea-swab ! Wot do
you mean, a-sayin' the most on-
sightly thing Gawd Almighty ever
put on the face o' man is a beute?

Wot do you mean, you "

And thereat this fiery son of the
sea broke off into a string of Ori-
ental profanity, mingling gods and
devils, lineages and men, metaphors
and monsters, with so savage a
virility that Jacob Kent was par-
alyzed. He shrank back, his arms
lifted as though to ward off physi-
cal violence. So utterly unnerved
was he that the other paused in
the mid-swing of a gorgeous pero-
ration and burst into thunderous
laughter.
"The sun's knocked the bottom out o' the
trail," said the Man with the Gash, between
departing paroxysms of mirth. "An' I
only 'ope as you'll appreciate the hopper-
tunity of consortin' with a man o' my mug.
Get steam up in that fire-box o' your'n. I'm
goin' to unrig the dogs an' grub 'em. An'
don't be shy o' the wood, my lad — there's
plenty more where that come from, and it's
you've got the time to sling an ax. An' tote
up a bucket o' water while you're about it.
Lively ! or I'll run you down, so 'elp me !"
Such a thing was unheard of. Jacob
Kent was making the fire, chopping wood,
packing water — doing menial tasks for a
guest ! When Jim Cardegee left Dawson,
it was with his head filled with the iniqui-
ties of this roadside Shylock ; and all along

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462

THE MAN WITH THE GASH

the trail his numerous victims had added to
the sum of his crimes. Now, Jim Carde-
gee, with the sailor's love for a sailor's
joke, had determined, when he pulled into
the cabin, to bring its inmate down a peg
or so. That he had succeeded beyond ex-
pectation he could not help but remark,
though he was in the dark as to the part
the gash on his cheek had played in it. But
while he could not understand, he saw the
terror it created, and resolved to exploit
it as remorselessly as would any modem
trader a choice bit of merchandise.

" Strike me blind, but you're a 'ustler,"
he said, admiringly, his head cocked to one
side, as his host bustled about. " You never
'ort to 'ave gone Klondiking. It's the keeper
of a pub' you was laid out for. An* it's
often as I 'ave 'eard the lads up an' down
the river speak o' you, but I 'adn't no idea
you was so jolly nice."

At such times that his visitor waxed sar-
castic, Jacob Kent experienced a tremen-
dous yearning to try his shotgun on him,
but the fascination of the gash was too po-
tent. This was the real Man with the Gash,
the man who had so often robbed him in
the spirit. This, then, was the embodied
entity of the being whose astral form had
been projected into his dreams, the man
who had so frequently harbored designs
against his hoard ; hence — there could be
no other conclusion — this Man with the
Gash had now come in the flesh to dispos-
sess him. And that gash ! He could no
more keep his eyes from it than stop the
beating of his heart. Try as he would, they
wandered back to that one point as inevi-
tably as the needle to the pole.

"Do it 'urt you?" Jim Cardegee thun-
dered, suddenly, looking up from the spread-
ing of his blankets and encountering the rapt
gaze of the other. "It strikes me as 'ow
it 'ud be the proper thing for you to draw
your jib, douse the glim, an' turn in, seein'
as 'ow it worrits you. Jes' lay to that, you
swab, or so 'elp me Fll take a pull on your
peak-purchases ! "

Kent was so nervous that it took three
puffs to blow out the slush-lamp, and he
crawled into his blankets without even re-
moving his moccasins. The sailor was soon
snoring lustily from his hard bed on the floor,
but Kent lay staring up into the blackness,
one hand on the shotgun, resolved not to
close his eyes the whole night. He had not
had an opportunity to secrete his five pounds
of gold, and it lay in the ammunition box at
the head of his bunk. But, try as he would.

he at last dozed off with the weight of his
dust heavy on his soul. Had he not inad-
vertently fallen asleep with his mind in such
condition, the somnambulic demon would
not have been invoked, nor would Jim Car-
degee have gone mining next day with a
dish-pan.

The fire fought a losing battle, and at last
died away, while the frost penetrated the
mossy chinks between the logs and chilled
the inner atmosphere. The dogs outside
ceased their howling, and, curled up in the
snow, most probably dreamed of salmon-
stocked heavens where dog-drivers and kin-
dred task-masters were not. Within, the
sailor lay like a log, while his host tossed
restlessly about, the victim of strange fan-
tasies. As midnight drew near he suddenly
threw off the blankets and got up. It was
remarkable that he could do what he then
did without ever striking a light. Perhaps
it was because of the darkness that he kept
his eyes shut, and perhaps it was for fear
he would see the terrible gash on the cheek
of his visitor ; but, be this as it may, it is a
fact, that, unseeing, he opened his ammuni-
tion box, put a heavy charge into the muz-
zle of the shotgun without spilling a parti-
cle, rammed it down with double wads, and
then put everything away and got back into
bed.

Just as daylight laid its steel-gray fin-
gers on the parchment window, Jacob Kent
awoke. Turning on his elbow, he raised the
lid and peered into the ammunition box.
Whatever he saw, or whatever he did not
see, exercised a very peculiar effect upon
him, considering his neurotic temperament.
He glanced at the sleeping man on the floor,
let the lid down gently, and rolled over on
his back. It was an unwonted calm which
rested on his face. Not a muscle quivered.
There was not the least sign of excitement
or perturbation. He lay there a long while,
thinking, and when he got up and began to
move about, it was in a cool, collected man-
ner, without noise and without hurry.

It happened that a heavy wooden peg had
been driven into the ridge-pole just above
Jim Cardegee's head. Jacob Kent, working
softly, ran a piece of half-inch manila over
it, bringing both ends to the ground. One
end he tied about his waist, and in the other
he rove a running noose. Then he cocked
his shotgun and laid it within reach, by the
side of numerous moose-hide thongs. By an
effort of will he bore the sight of the scar,
slipped the noose over the sleeper's head,
and drew it taut by throwing back on his

Digitized bvvjOOS 1-^

THE MAN WITH THE GASH.

463

weight, at the same time seizing the gun
and bringing it to bear.

Jim Cardegee awoke, choking, bewildered,
staring down the twin wells of steel.

"T^Hiere is it ?" Kent asked, at the same
time slacking on the rope.

"You blasted— ugh ''

Kent merely thrfew back his weight, shut-
ting off the other's wind.

^Bloomin'— Bur— ugh "

"Where is it ?" Kent repeated.

"Wot ?" Cardegee asked, as soon as he
had caught his breath.

"The gold-dust."

" Wot gold-dust ? " the perplexed sailor
demanded.

" You know well enough — mine."

" Ain't seen nothink of it. Wot do ye
take me for ? A safe-deposit ? Wot 'ave
I got to do with it an/ow ? "

"Mebbe you know, and mebbe you don't
know, but anyway, Fm going ,to stop your
breath till you do know. And* if you lift a
hand I'll blow your head off ! "

" Vast heavin' ! " Cardegee roared, as the
rope tightened.

Kent eased away a moment, and the
sailor, wriggling his neck as though from
the pressure, managed to loosen the noose a
bit and work it up so the point of contact
was just under the chin.

"Well ?" Kent questioned, expecting the
disclosure.

But Cardegee grinned. " Go ahead with
your 'angin', you bloomin' old pot-wolloper !"

Then, as the sailor had anticipated, the
tragedy became a farce. Cardegee being
the heavier of the two, Kent, throwing his
body backward and down, could not lift him
clear of the ground. Strain and strive to
the uttermost, the sailor's feet still stuck to
the floor and sustained a part of his weight.
The remaining portion was supported by the
point of contact just under his chin. Fail-
ing to swing him clear, Kent clung on, re-
solved to slowly throttle him or force him
to tell what he had done with the hoard.
But the Man with the Gash would not throt-
tle. He persisted in living and grinning, to
the great perplexity of his seB-appointed
hangman. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed,
and at the end of that time, in despair, Kent
let his prisoner down.

"Well," he remarked, wiping away the
sweat, "if you won't hang you'll shoot.
Some men wasn't bom to be hanged any-
wav."

' An' it's a pretty mess as you'll make o'
this 'ere cabin floor." Cardegee was fighting

" THE PLEASURES OP LIFE . . . CULMINATED IN THB
CONTINUAL WEIGmNG AND REWEIGHING OF HIS
DUST."

for time. " Now, look 'ere, I'll tell you wot
we do ; we'll lay our 'eads 'longside an'
reason together. You've lost some dust.
You say as 'ow I know, an' I say as 'ow I
don't. Let's get a hobservation an' shape a

course "

" Vast heavin' ! " Kent dashed in, ma-
liciously, imitating the other's enunciation.
" I'm going to shape all the courses of this
shebang, and you observe ; and if you do
anything more I'll bore you as sure as

"For the sake of my mother "

" Whom God have mercy upon if she loves
you. Ah! Would you?" He frustrated a
hostile move on the part of the other by
pressing the cold muzzle against his fore-
head. " Lay quiet, now ! If you lift as
much as a hair you'll get it."

It was rather an awkward task, with the
trigger of the gun always within pulling
distance of the finger ; but Kent was a
weaver, and in a few minutes had the sailor
tied hand and foot. Then he dragged him
without and laid him by the side of the
cabin, where he could overlook the river
and watch the sun climb to the meridian.

" Now I'll give you till noon, and then — - "

"Wot?"

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464

THE MAN WITH THE OASH.

"You'll be hitting the brimstone trail.
But if you speak up, 111 keep you till the
next bunch of mounted police come by/'

" Well, Gawd blime me, if this ain't a go !
'Ere I be, innercent as a lamb, an' 'ere you
be, lost all o' your top-'amper an' out o'
your reckonin', run me foul an' goin' to rake
me into 'ell-fire. You bloom-
in' old pirut! You "

Jim Cardegee loosed the
strings of his profanity and
fairly outdid himself. Jacob
Kent brought out a stool
that he might enjoy it in
comfort. Having exhausted
all the possible combinations
of his vocabulary, the sailor
quieted down to hard think-
ing, his eyes constantly
gauging the progress of the
sun, which tore up the east-
em slope of the heavens
with unseemly haste. His
dogs, surprised that they
had not long since been put
to harness, crowded around
him. His helplessness ap-
pealed to the brutes. They
felt that something was
wrong, though they knew
not what, and they crowded
about, howling their mourn-
ful sympathy.

" Chook ! Mush-on ! you
Siwashes!" he cried, at-
tempting, in a vermicular
way, to kick at them, and
discovering himself to be
tottering on the edge of a
declivity. As soon as the
animals had scattered, he de-
voted himself to the signifi-
cance of that declivity which
he felt to be there but
could not see. Nor was he long in arriving
at a correct conclusion. In the nature of
things, he figured, man is lazy. He does no
more than he has to. When he builds a cabin
he must put dirt on the roof. From these
premises it was logical that he should carry
that dirt no further than was absolutely nec-
essary. Therefore, he lay upon the edge of
the hole from which the dirt had been taken
to roof Jacob Kent's cabin. This knowledge,
properly utilized, might prolong things, he
thought ; and he then turned his attention
to the moose-hide thongs which bound him.
His hands were tied behind him, and, pressing
against the snow, they were wet with the

THE MAN WITH THE GASH,

contact. This moistening of the raw-hide
he knew would tend to m^e it stretch, and,
without apparent effort, he endeavored to
stretch it more and more.

He watched the trail hungrily, and when
in the direction of Sixty Mile a dark speck
appeared for a moment against the white
background of an ice- jam,
he cast an anxious eye at the
sun. It had climbed nearly
to the zenith. Now and
again he caught the black
speck clearing the hills of
ice and sinking into the in-
tervening hollows; but he
dared not permit himself
more than the most cursory
glances for fear of rousing
his enemy's suspicion. Once,
when Jacob Kent rose to his
feet and searched the trail
with care, Cardegee was
frightened, but the dog-sled
had struck a piece of trail
running parallel with a jam,
and remained out of sight
till the danger was past.

"I'll see you 'ung for
this," Cardegee threatened,
attempting to draw the
other's attention. " An'
you'll rot in 'ell, Jos' you
see if you don't."

"I say," he cried, after
another pause ; "d'ye b'lieve
in ghosts ? " Kent's sud-
den start made him sure of
his ground and he went on :
" Now a ghost 'as the right
to 'aunt a man wot don't do
wot he says ; and you can't
shufile me off till eight bells
— wot I mean is twelve
o'clock— can you ? 'Cos if
you do, if 11 'appen as 'ow I'll 'aunt you.
D'ye 'ear ? A minute, a second too quick an'
I'll 'aunt you, so 'elp me, I will ! "

Jacob Kent looked dubious, but declined
to talk.

" 'Ow's your chronometer ? Wof s your
longitude ? 'Ow do you know as your time's
correct ? ' ' Cardegee persisted, vainly hoping
to beat his executioner out of a few minutes.
" Is it Barrack's time you 'ave ? or is it the
Company time ? 'Cos if you do it before the
stroke o' the bell I'll not rest. I give you
fair wamin'. I'll come back. An' if you
'aven't the time 'ow will you know ? That's
wot I want — 'ow wil' — ^-^^ P^ t

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THE MAN WITH THE GASH.

465

"rn send you off all right,'' Kent replied.
" Got a sun-dial here."

" No good. Thirty-two degrees variation
o' the needle."

" Stakes are all set.''

" 'Ow did you set 'em ? Compass ? "

"No; lined them up with the North
Star."

"Sure?"

"Sure."

Gardegee groaned, then stole a glance at
the trail. The sled was just clearing a rise,
barely a mile away, and the dogs were in
full lope, running lightly.

" *0w close is the shadows to the line ? "

Kent walked to the primitive timepiece
and studied it. "Three inches," he an-
nounced, after a careful survey.

" Say, jes' sing out * eight bells ' afore you
pull the gun, wiU you ?"

Kent agreed, and they lapsed into silence.
The thongs about Gardegee's wrists were
slowly stretching, and he had begun to work
them over his hands.

" Say, 'ow close is the shadows? "

"One inch."

The sailor wriggled slightly to assure him-
self that he would topple over at the right
moment, and slipped the first turn over his
hands.

"'Ow close?"

"Half an inch." Just then Kent heard
the jarring chum of the runners and turned
his eyes to the trail The driver was ly-
ing flat on the sled and the dogs swing-
ing down the straight stretch to the cabin.
Kent whirled back, bringing his rifle to
shoulder.

"It ain't eight bells yet !" Gardegee ex-
postulated, ril 'aunt you, sure ! "

Jacob Kent faltered. He was standing by
the sun-dial, perhaps ten paces from his
victim. The man on the sled must have
seen that something unusual was taking

place, for he had risen to his knees, his
whip singing viciously among the dogs.

The shadows swept into line. Kent looked
alv'ng the sights.

'*Make ready !" he commanded, solemnly.
"Eight b ''

But just a fraction of a second too soon
Gardegee rolled backward into the hole.
Kent held his fire and ran to the edge.
Bang ! The gun exploded full in the sailor's
face as he rose to his feet. But no smoke
came from the muzzle ; instead, a sheet of
flame burst from the side of the barrel near
its butt, and Jacob Kent went down. The
dogs dashed up the bank, dragging the sled
clear over his body, and the driver sprang
off as Jim Gardegee freed his hands and
drew himself from the hole.

"Jim !" The newcomer recognized him.
"Whafs the matter?"

" Wofs the matter ? Oh, nothink at all.
It jest 'appens as I do little things like this
for my 'ealth. Wot's the matter, you bloom-
in' idjit ? Wot's the matter, eh ? Gast me
loose or Til show you wot ! 'Urry up, or I'll
'olystone the decks with you ! "

" Huh ! " he added, as the other went to
work with his sheath-knife. "Wot's the
matter ! I want to know. Jes' tell me that,
will you, wofs the matter ? Hey ? "

Kent was quite dead when they rolled him
over. The gun, an old-fashioned, heavy-
weighted muzzle-loader, lay near him. Steel
and wood had parted company. Near the butt
of the right-hand barrel, with lips pressed
outward, gaped a fissure several inches in
length. The sailor picked it up, curiously.
A glittering stream of yellow dust ran out
through the crack. The facts of the case
dawn^ upon Jim Gardegee.

" Strike me standin' ! " he roared ; " 'ere's
a go ! 'Ere's 'is bloomin' dust ! Gawd blime
me, an' you, too, Gharley, if you don't run
an' get the dish-pan!"

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THE SPIRIT OF REVOLUTION.

By Norman Duncan.*
now THE PARTY OF LIBERTY REVOLTED AGAINST ABDUL HAMID.

WHEN, craftily peering in fear for the
virago of the tenement, old Khalil
Kbayat, the editor, peeped in and, reassured
by the solemn quiet, crept to the corner
where he lay, little Billy Halloran was in
rare, sore need of some comfort and cour-
age—such, perchance, as may be found in
a hand laid on the head in tenderness, be the
touch ever so swift and diffident, and in the
sound of a voice speaking softly of 0I4, far-
away things. Three hours ago, ** Kawkab
Elhorriah" — which, in the Arabic, is Star
of Liberty — had gone to press in the old yel-
low building near South Street, where Salim
Shofi's hard money gives life, daily, to the
old teaching in new words. Even now,
Nageeb the Intelligent, Abo-Samara's little
son, was throwing it on all the restaurant
tables of Washington Street, from Rector to
the Battery, crying, ** ' Kawkab! ' News of
a Mohammedan outrage in Damascus! '' with
all the importance of his ten years. The
day's work was done, so Khayat had leisure
for a kindly deed ; and the plea for it, strong
as a voice, was in Billy's bad leg, which the
tumbled coverlid disclosed, scrawny, shining
white in the twilight, like a misshapen stalk
of sickly cellar-growth. I shall write no
more about the bad leg, nor shall the re-
sponsibility of the medical student ever be
set forth; for, even as Khalil Khayat has
written : There is a wide him sky and a stag-
nant gutter, and the eyes cf men move freely
in their sockets ; and in the contemplation of
the one there is a great lifting up, hut in (he
other an unprofitable sickness cf soul. All of
which, indeed, has nothing to do with how
Mahaomed Yassin Shariif's knife-thrust, in
Damascus, laid bare the Spirit 6f Revolution
in Washington Street, but cries out, pite-
ously, to he set down.

** Your mother— where ees she ? " Khayat
whispered fearfully.

** Jagged," Billy answered, sighing his
relief.

** She — s-she ees not here ? "

** Naw," was the reply, in a thin, frail,
weary voice. " She's chasin' de duck."

** Ah, eet ees good," Khayat said. He
sat down with some assurance, and smiled.

*' Ain't y'u goin' t' tell me a story. Mister
Khayat ? " Billy wailed from the shadow.

Now, Khayat had the caress and the story
to stop the whimpering; and no man knew
better than this old one the worth of a touch
and a tale in the twilight. When the even-
ing wind rose, cool and fresh from the har-
bor, and eddied through the room and swept
the heated, fetid air from the comer, as
though seeking out first, eagerly, the chil-
dren with whom the sun had dealt cruelly,
Billy rested, listening in lassitude to the
droning voice, content, forgetful. Soon his
eyelids were too heavy for him; but the
story went on, in a practised sing-song, like
a lullaby, until he fell asleep, and there was
no sound but the soothing, summer-night
murmur, rising from the street. Then
Khalil Khayat dropped the hot little hand,
which he had taken up regardless of the
grime ; and rose, like a thief, to steal away
to the back room of the coffee-house of
Nageeb Fiani, to hear what the people had
to say of the writing in that day's ** Kawkab
Elhorriah" concerning the licentious mur-
der of Salim Khouri's brother by Mahaomed
Yassin Shariff, a Mohammedan, in Damas-
cus ; for the writing was like a seed sown
with anxious care, that the harvest, to be
reaped by other hands in the far-away fu-
ture, might be Liberty — like one seed sown
hopefully from a deep bag.

Billy opened his eyes ; but the lids closed
again, against his will, for he was very
weary, and the relief of the evening was
upon him.

** Ain't y'u goin' t' come back no more
t'night?" heplainted.

** Have you not sleep ? I seet down more
weeth you," Khayat whispered; but Billy

* Mr. Norman Duncan has achieved fame recently by his delineations of life in the Syrian quarter of
New York City. This is a hitherto untrodden field in literature, which has aroused interest, not only because of
the peculiar characteristics of these long-suffering exiles, but because of the literary quality of Mr. Duncan's
tales of their life here. This story is one of a series, so connected as to make the interest continuous, which
is being published in book form, under the title '' The Soul of the Street," by McClure, Phillips & Go. It is a
unique and entertaining volume. — Ed.
466

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THE SPIRIT OF REVOLUTION,

467

was again asleep. " I am come back soon/'
Khayat went on ; and he moved to go, step-
ping softly.

•'Ain't y'n— fergit— de— flow'r?'' Billy
asked, waking; and then he dozed off be-
yond light disturbance.

Ah ! in his unholy eagerness for the enter-
tainment of learning whether the seed was
to shrivel or take sure root, Khayat had for-
gotten Billy's plant — the twisted, scrawny,
pale little plant, like unto Billy himself, that
then thirsted on the fire-escape, where it
had been put, with groaning, by its lover, in
the afternoon. With what reproaches did
Khayat hurt his heart as he brought it in,
and watered it and bathed its every lean,
miserable leaf, and set it at the head of the
cot to comfort the waking eyes. Had he
been remiss in anything else ? He scratched
his head and puzzled his absent mind ; and,
having thought long and distressfully in vain,
tip-toied out, frowning, self-reproachful, for
in the sight of Billy Halloran there was no
plant like that weakling, and in the heart of
Khalil Khayat no self-justification for leav-
ing it long in discomfort. So the regret
followed the old man half-way down the
stair, and was forgotten utterly only when
the old-world smell of the narghiles and the
noise of a great voice, raised raspingly in
exhortation to the shedding of blood, even
the sacred blood of the Sultan, shut the lit-
tle Irish boy and all the things of the tene-
ment out of thought, at the door to the back
room of Nageeb Piani's coffee-house, where
the Irish never go.

** . . . written: an eye for an eye, a
tooth for a tooth ? " Elias Rahal was crying
in a passionate undertone, in the finer Arabic
of oratory. *' Even now the lamentations
of Salim Khouri, whose brother has gone to
the grave in blood, sound in our ears; and
so great is the noise of his weeping that
men gather in the street, wondering to hear
it, and the p^leecem^n make their way to the
place where he lies, even to the sixt* floor
of the great dwelling-place, though they are
weary with much walking, and very fat and
important ..."

Khayat halted at the door to listen — eaves-
dropping innocently; verily, as men say,
there was no guile in him. He sat down in
the darkness of the middle room, at the
door to the narrow place where Elias Rahal
sat at the round table with four others ; and
there was a smile on his thin, dark face, like
the smile of a rapt, expectant child in the
darkened amphitheater when the footlights
flare suddenly against the great curtain, and

a burst of music announces the disclosure of
the spectacle. Such, indeed, was the char-
acter of his interest in the shifting passions
of the people. His work for Liberty was
higher than their hands could reach to help
or hinder : his purpose without variableness,
past their understanding, solemn, hidden
within his heart, laying stone upon stone of
a Temple which the hands of the children of
the yet unborn should complete. This was
the fanciful conception with which he cheered
his life ; so the talk of the people was a pass-
ing bitterness or a thrill of soul, as it chanced.
'W^at did their talk matter ? He would sow,
day after day. What was the loss of one
small seed from a deep bag ? And, even as
he has written: In tte mtumn the harvest
is garneredy spite the vrrath cf a {single) day.
It was, indeed, all a play; and Khayat,
with his pen laid aside for the day, was like
a child looking on — the emotion fading with
the falling of the curtain.

"... the shedding of Christian blood to
continue forever?" Rahal went on with
deepening passion. '' Is a murderer to be
forever safe against justice because he is a
Mohammedan ? Is the foot of the Sultan
Abdul Hamid never to be flung from the
necks of our people, but is the heel of his
iron boot to tear the throats of our chil-
dren's children ? Is it forever we must
suffer . . ."

The words of Rahal were lost to the lis-
tener in the street noises. The outer door
was open in invitation to the evening wind;
but Rahal's staccato utterance had lifted
itself clear above the outer night-clatter —
above the rattle of the truck-wheels on the
cobblestones, and the sound of the drivers^
warning cries, above the intermittent roar
of the elevated trains, and the buzz of gos-
sip. Now, the sportive children, the gut-
ter-snipes, marched past in whimsical, riot-
ous procession, singing:

Hello, mah baby !
Hello, mah honey I
Hello, mah rag-time gal I
Send me a kiss by wire,
Honey, mah hearts on fire.
If yon refuse me,
Then you will lose me.
An' you'll be left alone.
Oh, baby, telephone.
An' tell me Tm yer own *

Khayat had been absorbed in Rahal's
speech — eager, like a critic, to rate the
climax, the form of it, the ring of it ; but
there was no anger in his heart because the
children were noisy. He was always jealous

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468

THE SPIRIT OF REVOLUTION.

for the happiness of children, as Nageeb the
Intelligent, Abo-Samara's little son, knew
well before he died, and as all the little peo-
ple of the gutters wOl tell you to this very
day. He £d not exclaim impatiently; he
reached out stealthf ully and pushed the door
to the little back room ajar, that he might
hear the better.
** Hush-h-h. Elias! " came from within.
"Hush!''

** There is one listening at the door."
There was silence — as when men strain
their ears to catch a warning, for their very
lives' sake. Khayat was still as a statue;
and his eyes were shining like the eyes of a
roguish child playing at Mde-and-seek. Ah,
he is comparable only to a child — Khayat is!
The Spirit had taken life lease of a comer in
his heart !
** No; there is no one to hear."
" Go on, Elias. It is very fine."
'*If my enemy should hear?" Rahal
whined.
* ' There is no ear to hear — save only ours. ' '
There was a second period of listening,
which the contemptuous bubbling of a nar-
ghile disturbed.

'' Go on, Elias. Our hearts are in our
mouths, where your words have sent them
leaping. Are we to choke to death ? "

'' Go on, Elias. Who is to shed the Sul-
tan's blood, did you say ? "

Now they speak with candor of dark de-
signs only in the dark, these expatriated
Syrians of lower Washington Street; for
every man sees an enemy in his friend, and,
though words may be discreetly chosen and
softly spoken, no man, as it is written, can
draw a blind over his eyes. So when one
spoke of the Sultan's blood, another, as
though afraid to betray the pallor and agi-
tation of fear, turned the gas to a pin's-
head flame. Shadows — seclusion; the time
was ripe for blackest conspiracy. For, per-
chance, even as children of persuasive im-
agination, with the swaggering courage of
garret-clothes and garret-guns, when the
Dusk, deepening, veils the face of the garden
with gray Mystery, enchanting the familiar
clump of lilacs into a rocky rendezvous for
bandits and all the shadows into shelter for
fearsome, designing Shapes — even as, shiv-
ering, round-eyed, they gather close and
plot red death, daring the beating of their
hearts and the mocking shadows and the
garden's uncanny night-plaint, so do these
simple folk desperately conspire. The illu-
sion, the shuddering thrill— they are the
same.

'* Tell us, Elias, who is to shed the Sul-
tan's blood?"

**It shall be by lot," Rahal whispered.
He burst out, thumping the table at each
word: " So shall it be determined by whose
hand the Sultan is to die."

' * Ah-h ! ' ' This was a sigh of relief —de-
light; it was as though a dark, treacherous
path had been suddenly flooded with light.

Khayat, forgetting himself in the obscur-
ity of the middle room, chuckled explosively ;
he had to pinch his lean leg very, very hard
to sober himself —to pinch it until he winced,
which was not an easy thing to do, for the
leg was very lean.

*' But not yet," Rahal added, knowingly.

" Where and how ? TeU us, 0 Elias! "

There was a confusion of sounds, as of
men drawing close to a table. Khayat could
hear them push the coffee cups aside ; could
hear the flimsy little table creak under the
weight of the conspirators as they leaned
upon it to get their heads the nearer to-
gether. He gave his leg a convulsive pinch,
and cried out with the pain of it.

** What's that?"

** It is the table groaning."

**Ah! I thought — I thought — is there
no one listening ? Are you sure ? "

** There is no one."

Rahal stuttered distractedly :" L-let us —
f-f-first revolt." He paused, listening in-
tently; then continued in a lower, surer
voice: **To revolt is the first thing. Let
us unite the people of Washin'ton Street
and demand of Abdul Hamid the freedom of
our land. If he denies us, let us rise and
carry fire and the sword even into the inner-
most palace at Constantinople. Sadahala,"
he continued enthusiastically, '* you draw up
the paper for the Party of Liberty. Have
all the people sign it. Then "

** Abo-Samara has more skill with the pen
than I, and more learning. Let him "

'* Sadahala, my friend, you honor me too
highly," was softly interjected. "I am
unlearned, and "

Khayat had to pinch himself again — this
time harder than before ; the next morning
the leg was blue at that point, as he glee-
fully observed.

''I," was heard in a proud, hoarse whis-
per, *' will draw up the paper and pass it
from hand to hand.' I — I — will do it."

'^ Ah ! Who can do it better than Tanous
Shishim ? Go on, Elias."

'' In one month," Rahal said, ** the Syrians
of Montreal and Philadelphia and all the West
will unite with us. There wpl^be an army

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THE SPIRIT OF REVOLUTION.

469

of 3,000 men gathered in N* York — strong
men, great in might, greater in courage and
patriotism. We will say in the newspapers
— the American newspapers — that we have
20,000 men ready to die for Liberty ; and it
will be, indeed, as though there were 20,000.
Who is to deny our words ? In two months
the news will be carried to Beirut; verily,
the rejoicing will be very great. In three
months it will be spread to the edge of the
desert, even to the furthermost parts of the
land. In four months the people will rise.
Christian and Mohammedan, kin in heritage,
brothers in high purpose; and they will arm
themselves with sword and rifle and raise the
banner of the Party of Revolution, leaping
to the trumpet-call of Liberty as to the cry
of one risen from the dead. It will be, oh
men — it will be the great Arabic uprising!
Then will a great fleet, a fleet mighty and
invincible, sail from these shores to the very
gate of Constantinople; and a great army
will take ship from N' York, an army of the
friends of Liberty, an army "

" What fleet and what army, 0 Elias ? "
The question was asked in tremulous eager-
ness.

" The fleet of the United States and the
army of a free people," said Rahal.

•'Can it be so?"

" Is it, in truth, a thing possible ? "

Khalil Khayat sighed. The pathos of the
situation was clear to him ; it may be that
he sighed because the great uprising was
a mere mirage.

** Did not the United States set free the
slaves of Spain in Cuba ? " Rahal said.
" Did the great American people hesitate ?
Will the President forsake us in our distress
— fors^e U8y who gave our sons to fight his
battles ? Let us send the Doctor to the
President, even to the White House at Wash-
ington, to set our prayer before him. The
Doctor — who can withstand his oratory ?
Is there a more learned man ? Is there a
man more used to intercourse with the high
and noble? Who "

" But who will provide the Doctor with
fare to Washington, Elias ? "

** We shall need much money," Rahal an-
swered dubiously.

There was a pause in the talk — vigorous,
nervous puflSng.

*' I am a poor man," one sighed.

'* And I," sighed the second.

'* And I," sighed the third.

" And I," sighed the fourth.

"God." said Rahal in humility, "has
favored me also with poverty." A sugges-

tive silence followed. " It may be," Rahal
pursued, speculatively, ** that the friends of
Liberty will help us. The Americans are
very rich ; there is no bottom to their purses,
nor any meanness in their hearts. Mm-m-m !
Perchance — who knows — how many thou-
sands of dollars have they sent to the Arme-
nians ? Tanous, is it not known to you ?
Surely, they have sent millions of dollars —
millions — ^yes, truly — millions of dollars — to
the Armenians."

Rahal came to a stop ; the sounds of puff-
ing were such as men make when they are
eager — dreaming fast.

" If God give me strength," Tanous Shi-
shim said solemnly, ** I shall devote my tal-
ents to the labor of counting the money —

my life to its safekeeping — ^my "

But, Tanous, I-

" You, Tanous! Why, I "

*' It may be," Rahal put in softly, in
clear-cut, hard words, '* that five guardians
are better than one. Is it not so ? "

" It is even so."

Khayat, hearing, flushed for his race.

" Let us immediately organize the Party
of Revolution," Rahal pursued. " Here —
in this very place, let us do jt."

" It is a small, mean room to be so hon-
ored."

" It shall be remembered forever. When
we are dust men will say, ' In this room
Liberty was born!' "

" It will be a sacred place."

" It may be that our children's children
through many years to come will count this
table more precious than its weight in jew-
eled gold, saying, the one to the other, * The
hand of Elias Rahal rested upon it,' or, * Did
not Abo-Samara the Patriot touch it with
his very fingers ? Let us, also, touch the
holy thing.' They will save it — perchance,
even as the Americans save the shoes of
George Washin'ton, that great Emperor,
counting them above price, as I have been
told."

" And the hand of Tanous Shishim — ^what
of it ? " Tanous growled jealously.

"Even so," one added, perfunctorily;
" and the hand of Tanous Shishim rested
upon the table."

" Our names will be remembered forever!
God is good! He is loving and wise and
just ! Who would not lay down his life for
Liberty?"

" Even unto death will we persevere! "

" And henceforth Liberty shall be unto
us as a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by
night, leading us, even as it is written."

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470

THE SPIRIT OF REVOLUTION.

"Even unto death!"

•'Ah-h-h-h!''

There was a tense, solemn pause; as of
a hushed moment, fraught with irrevocable
consequences, when men — to whom, it may
be, martyrdom is revealed in beauty — ex-
alted past speech, past every thought, stand-
ing before the people with naked hearts,
dedicate themselves to the service of the
Eternal and Most High. The clatter and
snort and warning shriek of a fire engine,
and the voices and feet of many children as
they scampered madly in its wake past the
outer door toward Battery Park, sounded
strangely distant and insignificant, like wed-
ding merriment floating from over the way
into a room where a woman lies dead — ^a
fluttering vanity.

'' Even unto death ! " Ehalil Khayat sighed
responsively.

Knowing the hearts of men, the old man
was thrilled, S3rmpathetically, to the mar-
row by the vow. Enraptured of the beauty
of Patriotism, and susceptible to distraction
from evil suspicion as a child is easy to turn
from frowns to smiles with a bright color,
he was momentarily lifted above doubt —
swept into high forgetfulness of the sim-
plicity and s^m of this conspiracy. He
clasped his hands and lifted up his eyes;
and, for him, then, verily, the darkness was
riven to reveal the inspiring, tender face
and benedictive gesture of the Master whom
he served. The rapture beneficently lingered,
providing him a little dream with which to
comfort himself through the evil hours of
many days; and then it ebbed, swiftly, in-
evitably, as the ghastly greed of the con-
spirators in the next room forced itself into
his consciousness again, until their prostitu-
tion of the Spirit plunged him in a despair
deeper than his ecstasy had been high. He
had thought he was long past such complain-
ing; he had schooled himself to sigh and
say, God is good ! Was his work not higher
than the hands of these men could reach to
hinder ? The forgotten depth of pain raised,
as a spirit,, his impetuous, sensitive youth,
when a day had seemed long enough for a
sowing and a reaping, and he had kicked
stubbornly against the pricks. He saw him-
self a lad of wayward ardor — in the old,
familiar body — bent upon tipping an estab-
lished throne with the strength of his own
arm ; and he wiped his eyes and smiled upon
his old self, as upon a child of his own, and
fell into a deep, sweet dream, forgetting,
for the time, all about Elias Rahal and his
company of boasters.

When consciousness of time and place
came back to Khayat, Tanous Shishim was
speaking; as he had spoken many times, for
he had only one speech to make, and men
knew it by heart, so often had they heard it:

"... Is our people forever to suffer
meekly ? Lo, the land of our birth is as a
hell upon earth ! Its smoke is iigustice ; its
flames 's ravishment and the shedding of
blood ; its lord is " — ^Tanous discreetly let his
voice fall — " the Sultan Abdul Hamid. Out
of their — their bondage d-do our brothers
call to us ; morning and evening do they call
to God to— to — melt our hearts with — ^yee —
compassion — that's it . " Tanous was now in
a rapture, past the bounds of reasonable ut-
terance ; he continued : " Patriots has arisen
aftet long sleeping; they have — have bust
— ^yes, bust the bonds of selfishness and fear ;
andf the people cry, all men of them, ' The
night is over ; its soldiers — surely I have for-
gotten it — ^yes, its soldiers fly, its banners 's
in the dust, its troops 's retreating!' In
freedom shall the little children sing songs
of us; forever shall our names be set in
printed pages; forever shall "

Khayat had sped from passive attention
to high wrath. How, save in anger, could
he hear violence done the Language Beauti-
ful. Spirit of Beauty! It was like a foul
affront to a man's well-beloved in his very
presence. It was a personal, present offense,
capable of immediate effect; and Khayat
was quick to speak, as a strong, true man
is quick to strike. "Stop! Stop!" he
cried in a sobbing passion, throwing the door
wide. " You, 0 Tanous Shishim — you an
orator! You dare to public speech! Illit-
eracy presummg to the highest accomplish-
ment of culture ! A pig on a throne ! Lo,
I speak the words — I, even I, Khalil Khayat.
Is it so, 0 Tanous, that you are a graduate
of the American College at Beirut, and
know so little of the graces of your own
tongue ? Burst — not bust, Tanous ! And
in the name of God, 0 Tanous Shishim, are
you an old man and still ignorant of the rule
that a noun plural is never — never, 0 Ta-
nous— to be followed by a verb singular ?
Agh! You have given me a headache," he
cried, putting his hand to his forehead. " I
shall not sleep to-night for the discord of
your words. Hear me, you orator, and
learn!"

Khayat struck an heroic attitude that
went grotesquely with his old clothes ; you
would have been moved to laughter, but
the splendid passion of the pose and the fire
flashing in the old eyes set their nostrils

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THE SPIRIT OF REVOLUTION.

471

quivering, as he exclaimed, sonorously:
'' 'The night is over; its banneris trail the
dust, its hosts are retreating — aye, its heroes
flees!"' The noise in the common room,
where many men were passing the time
against the hour for the band to play in
Battery Park, subsided; and there was a
listening silence for a time. '*Say it so,
Tanous," Khayat gasped, and sat down,
exhausted.

No man spoke one word ; they all lingered,
blissfully, in the spell of the words' beauty.

** How wonderful is your gift of speech,
0 Khalil Khayat!" Elias Rahal whispered
in deep emotion at last.

** It is given of God, and "

Khayat stopped to hearken. Some one
came swiftly through the common room —
some important man for whom the people
made way and hushed their boisterous voices ;
to whom they gave respectful greeting:
** May the day close in happiness for you!
May all the blessings of evening attend you ! ' '
It was the Doctor — Salim Eflfendi, of the
FqjcvM de MideciTie de Condantinopk — the
Doctor himself, than whom there was no
greater man in Washington Street; he of
the threadbare hauteur, and rusty, alien
high hat and yellow gloves and militant dig-
nity, who would sit no longer than fifteen
minutes by the watch with any man of the
Quarter, save only Nageeb Fiani, the artist,
and Khalil Khayat. He burst into the little
back room, forgetful, for once, of the polite-
ness of knocking; then they knew that some
great thing had happened, and their hearts
stood still. "Ho!" he gasped. *'Yusef
Abo-Samara, are you here ? God be thanked !
As you value the life of your father in Aleppo,
0 my friend, whisper no word against the
Sultan this night." The Doctor was trem-
bling; his eyes were bulging; his high hat
was toppling shamelessly over his ear, as
though through necessity of such haste as
men make for their lives. What was the
danger ? Elias Rahal shivered. * * The sedi-
tion— it has been spread abroad," the Doctor
went on. *' It has come to the ears of men
in high places, even to the ears of the Con-
sul in N' York. By the sword and the shed
blood, it has gone higher!" he burst out.
"The Minister — the very Minister from
Washin'ton has come."

"Ah!"

"Mercy of God!"

" Is there no help for us! "

" It is very truth," the Doctor proceeded.
" Within one hour he will be in the meeting-
room of the Orthodox Church for a recep-

tion. Hadji, the Consul's servant, has but
this moment left the dispensary, having
overwhelmed me with the news. The ar-
rangements are in my hands, by order of the
Consul. It is for me to "

" Doctor," Elias Rahal whimpered, eagerly,
" am I not your friend ? Have I spoken
one word of enmity against you ? Have I
not "

"Doctor, Doctor," Nageeb Lufty inter-
rupted, whining. " I "

" Hear me, 0 Doctor Effendi," Tanous
Shishim cried, pushing young Lufty aside
and catching the Doctor by the lapel of his
coat. " Have I not always said that you
were a great doctor ? Were you not at the
bedside when my first wife died ? Have I
not paid the bill without complaining, though
it was the greatest bill I ever saw — when
the sick one died ? Have I not sent you
hundreds, even thousands, of patients, nam-
ing your name as the great "

"Elias," the Doctor interrupted impa-
tiently, " what "

"Ah!" Elias cried. "Am I bidden to
the reception ? Tell me — quick, am I "

" Yes, yes, Elias, you are bidden."

Elias exclaimed joyfully, and hurried away
to grease his hair and put on a red necktie.

" And I," Tanous Shishim said. " I am
very rich. Am I not "

"Yes, Tanous; and you, too, Abo-Sa-
mara "

"Doctor," Nageeb Lufty wailed, "I
named you for President of the Society for
Peace. I have cried down your enemies.
Only yesterday I said to Nageeb Fiani, who
will bear me out in this thing, that you were
the greatest doctor in the world. Is my
love to be forgotten; can it be "

" No, no, Nageeb. You, too, are bidden
to the reception."

Lufty overtook Tanous at the door, and
whispered in his ear, privately : " Elias Rahal
is not our friend. He will speak evil of us
in the ear of the Minister. Let us keep
watch, 0 Tanous!" Thereupon Tanous
Shishim hurried to the home of Elias Rahal,
and whispered in his ear, privately: " Elias,
danger is round about us. Nageeb Lufty
is our enemy. Let us stand close to the
Minister, lest he speak evil against us."
And when Tanous had gone, Elias Rahal
went through the street, searching for Na-
geeb Lufty; and when he had found him,
he took him aside and whispered in his ear,
privately: "Nageeb, it is in the heart of
Tanous Shishim to destroy us. He will
speak evil of us in the ear of the Minister.

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472

THE SPIRIT OF REVOLUTION.

Let us keep at his side that we may hear
every word that he says; for, surely, if
we do not, he will speak evil and destroy
us." Then Elias Rahal and Nageeb Lufty
and Tanous Shishim each determined - in
his heart to speak in the ear of the Sul-
tan's Minister for himself, that they might
gain some advantage one over the other.

Abo-Samara went home for a tarboosh,
the badge of loyalty, leaving the Doctor
alone with Khalil Khayat in the little room.

The Doctor hesitated at the threshold.
** Khalil — " he began, uncertainly. He
paused. He cut a loose thread from the
finger-tip of his glove with his teeth, and
spat it out nervously. It would have been
a fragment of the nail had the hand been
bare. Thrice he essayed to speak; thrice
the courage of his kindly intent failed him.
He turned resolutely, as if to go ; but held
his step, looking over his shoulder. ** Kha-
lil," he said hoarsely, facing desperately
about, ** I — I — am your friend. I have no
heart to slight you before men. It is an
honor — it is a high honor in the sight of
men to— to kiss — the hand of the Sultan's
Minister." The Doctor paused again; and
Khayat, recalling his smiling thought from
the recent situation, turned his glance, seri-
ously, to the Doctor's wavering eyes. " You,"
the Doctor went on, ** you, too, are bidden,
even as an honored guest, to the minister's
reception; and "

*' I ? " Khayat asked, in solemn wonder.

*' As an honored guest, Khalil," the Doc-
tor answered hurriedly. ** No man will mis-
construe "

** And have you not known me for seven
years ? " Khayat said with gentle reproof.

** Yes, 0 Khalil. Seven years of sweet-
est intercourse have we "

** And is my heart's enmity a stranger to
you?"

The Doctor looked at the floor, saying
nothing; but at last he cried, pleading his
own justification: '' I have a mother in Bei-
rut. What am I to do but "

"Ah!" Khayat interrupted, holding up
his hand. ** Am I a judge of men? No
man is an offense to me l^cause of his sin.
Who am I that I should condemn it ? I,
too, have sinned." He went on, wearily,
absently: ** I have thought— I am not sure
— it may be— that it is counted as right-
eousness to dissemble — sometimes — for a
woman's sake. I have sinned deeper than
that — for a woman — my sister's sake." He
had slowly thrust his right hand out from
him over the table, and had averted his face

from it; now, it was at the limit of his
reach, and he was working the fingers
against one another, as though they were
offensively wet and sticky. He turned his
face, and looked upon the hand with half-
closed, contemptuous eyes, as though it
were a loathsome thing; then he averted his
face again, sharply, and groaned. ** I have
shed blood — for my sister's sake," he whis-
pered, vacantly; and repeated: ** I have
shed blood. I— have — shed — blood." The
flaring gas, the dingy wall-paper, Fiam''8
violin, the Doctor— all faded, as in a mist ;
and in their stead he saw a stretch of
sand, covered by the night, and a man creep-
ing, creeping toward a black clump of trees.

The Doctor caught the guilty right hand
in both of his and pressed it hard; and then
he went out quickly into the noisy, seething
night-life of Washington Street, near the
soap factory.

** 'Ave y'u come back ? " said Billy Hal-
loran, a touch of reproach in his weak, thin
voice, when Khalil Khayat glided in. ** Y'u
bin gone a h — 1 of a w'ile," he added, plain-
tively.

"I am come back," Khayat whispered.
** I am go out no more to-night." He was
conscious of a selfish neglect. " Eet have
grow very dark here," he added. He felt
the way to the window, and sat down where
the breeze might dry and cool his brow.

** It's nice an* cool," said Billy.

Khayat made no response ; but quavered
a strange, tearful air, in an absent way.

"Ain't dey ready t' lick de Sultan?"
Billy asked, feeling for the cause of the old
man's sadness.

"No," Khayat said slowly; "they have
not become ready— yet."

" Ain't dey never goin' t' fight ? "

" Some day the people they weel fight."

" Yaller, ain't dey ? Dey ought t' hump
demsel's."

" When the flesh eet have drop from my
bones," Khayat said, struggling obdurately
with the language, to convey the beauty of
his thought, " then weel they have draw the
sword. An' in the blow weel the strength
of my dead arm be."

" I do' know— I do' know w'at y'u mean,"
Billy said, listlessly.

There was a long silence.

" We bot' got our troubles," said the boy,
with a sigh. " I got me bad leg, an' you
can't make dem fight."

"Ah!" Khayat said tenderly, "I have
no trouble so great as yours." He bowed
and smiled, as th'^"*^^ »»^s\king a compliment.

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A BILL FROM TIFFANY'S.

473

" You got de hardes' luck."

"Ah, no!"

** I bet y'u y'u got de hardes' luck. I
got a nickel in me clo'es, and "

" Eef I have a heart more heavy, eet ees
because I am an old, foolish man, and all the
wisdom of children — eet ees yours."

** I do' know," Billy said, blankly. " I
feel better anyway."

There was another long silence.

**I guess ril go to sleep," said Billy.
'* Good-night, Mister Khayat. Dey'll fight
fer y'u — some day — er — I will — w'en I grow
up— an* me leg — gits — better."

Billy was asleep ; so Ehalil Khayat went
to his own room across the hall, in the happy
consciousness that the boy was loosed from
the discomfort of the body for the time.
He groped his way to his old chair with a
light heart. He reached lovingly for the
big black book wherein the thoughts of Abo
Elola Elmoarri are set down, to hold it in
his hand for the comfort and companionship
in the touch of it; and he looked out from
the darkness of his room into the pale night-
light — into the depths of the wide, jeweled
sky, out of which pure serenity descends
upon the sons of man as a dew ; nor did the
murmurings of the great city, nor the stench
of its wickedness, nor the echoes of the
night's faithlessness oppress him, for they

were as offenses afar off. This he thought
concerning the writing in that day's ^' Kaw-
kab Elhorriah," molding the plastic words
in forms of beauty, even as Abo Elola El-
moarri did in his time: '* A field of wheat
is from the seed of a sheaf. What is one
wasted seed ? My arm is strong for another
sowing. Early and late will I sow, that the
harvest may be bountiful. And it is more
honorable to sow than to reap ; for he who
reaps, reaps in certainty that which another
has sown in hope, and he who sows, sows
unselfishly, not knowing that he will reap.
When, in the fulness of time, the blow is
struck, the strength of my arm will be in it,
though the flesh be fallen in fine dust from
the bones and my name remembered no
more."

He clutched the big black book tighter
— pressed it, even, against his heart;
perchance it was to establish him in his
philosoi^hy. At last, vehemently, he said
to himself: "And concerning blessedness
this I know— know for truth, though it be
all I have wrested from the eternal in a long
life — that it is more blessed to lighten the
life of a child than — any — other — thing."

He leaned back in his chair — and nodded
— and smiled — and nodded, and fell gently
asleep, like a child; for he was an old man,
and used to the world's hard knocks.

TRUE STORIES FROM THE UNDER-WORLD.

By Josiah Flynt and Francis Walton.
II.— A BILL FROM TIFFANY'S

Editor's Note. — The illustrations for this series of stories about criminals, or, as the authors call them,
" the Powers that Prey," have been made after careful study of tjrpes in those quarters of New York which
they frequent, as well as from studies of hundreds of photographs in the Rogues' Gallery. The authors have
assisted in this work, so that the portraits are those of the actual types that they describe in their stories. It
will be noted that these authentic pictures conyey in many' cases an impression very different from the
ordinary conception of criminals.

MISS Sadie Meeker was a young woman
who was interested in the market
value of things ; in particular, in the market
value of herself. As a money-changer at the
desk in Major & Fairbanks', her market value
was just four dollars a week ; but a woman's
real market value, as Sadie well knew, is
never what she can honestly earn, but what
the best man who wishes to marry her can
earn, whether honestly or not. Later, she
came to think seven times out of ten of her
husband, and the remaining three of her
children ; but for the moment she was con-

scious mainly that Margie Payne had mar-
ried a saloon-keeper, and Kittie Barton a part-
owner in a dance-hall ; and saloon-keepers
and part-owners in dance-halls are lords and
landed gentry in the Under- World.

Margie and Kittie had been Sadie's next
friends, and for some time after their mar-
riage she, too, would have been contented to
wed a saloon-keeper or a part-owner in a
dance- hall. But Margie, when all was said,
did wear her clothes, no matter how expen-
sive, as ^^ ^^^y ^^^^ ^° ^^^ P^^^^ ^^ sliding
off; ^i^d Kittie, in spite of her pretty hair.

474

TRUE STORIES FROM THE UNDERWORLD.

had bad teeth. That is to say, in the Under-
World a chief of detectives is a prince and
potentate; and if Charley Minick was not
yet a chief of detectives, he well might be-
come one, at least with a woman whose
clothes cost money to spur him on. Sadie's
teeth were perfect, and she filled out her
gown like a dressmaker's model ; her hair,
besides, was quite as good as Kittie's, and
her complexion was wonderful: after some
hesitation she concluded, therefore, with
a delightful sense at once of playing for
high stakes and of generosity, to become
engaged to marry Charley Minick. His
mustache also curled beautifully.

Charley Minick in his
twenty-eighth year had - -- ^.-

achieved a knowledge how
the world is made. This
perception is strictly a
matter of male intelli-
gence; women know noth-
ing whatever about it, their
concern lying wholly with
fictions. He had joined
the "force" with a re-
solution to be an " honest
copper": and his high
aspirations still clung to
him, though they had be-
come modified. He would
not be so honest as to be
unpleasant: he would be
just a little — oh the veriest
trifle! — better than his
neighbors. This course
permitted him to attain
the delights both of popu-
larity and cf pride, and may be said to be
sanctioned by the example of a working
majority of the truly great. ** I don't set
up for no saint," said the magnanimous
Minick, '' but there are places where I
draws the line." A Pitt or a Lincoln could
have said no more.

He was capable on occasion of a certain
doggedness and intensity of reflection ; and
at the time of his engagement, Sadie had
provided an occasion. Margie's gifts from
her lover had been diamonds of price; Kit-
tie's gifts from her lover had been diamonds
of even greater price ; Sadie was perfectly
aware of every woman's inalienable right to
possess better jewels than any woman of her
acquaintance, if she can induce a man to
give them to her. She explained her views
to Minick with vigor and point ; she revealed
to him the double jurisdiction under which he
had agreed to live ; he must stand his trial in

SadU Meeker.

the judgment of her peers. Therefore Minick
addressed her hilariously as Her Grace the
Duchess of Major & Fairbanks', and looked
upon her with increased happiness and admi-
ration. A man always looks upon a woman
with increased happiness and admiration when
she asks the impossible and makes him do it.
" Well, you wouldn't have me be ashamed
before Kit and Marge, would you ? "

** The Pearl of Pie Alley couldn't stand
ashamed before Kit and Marge; she hasn't
got the shape!"

** Even now they say I'm a fool to tie up
with you. They say there's no scale in your
job the way there is in Jim's and Bob's:
they call you a hundred-a-
=--j^^^^ month man : they say you

^ don't take in nothing on the

side. Kit and Marge said
last night I was marrying
you for your mt^-tache ! "
** Kit and Marge!" said
the alert detective with
theatric scorn; **Kit and
Marge are a couple of
clapper-tongued pot-wres-
tlers ; you'll make your ears
long as a gover'ment
mule's a-listening to 'em."
** Yes, I suppose so.
But it means a lot to me.
You've got to get me what
I want. That's what you
marry me for; and you've
got to go to the right place
to get it : I tell you those.
I want to show Kit and
Marge the box."
laughed Minick, ** I'll get

•'All right,"
you the box!"

Three days after this conversation there
was a great social ** event" at the town
house of Edward Sandys of Sandys & Merton,
who served God and mankind to the amount
of some millions per annum. They performed
their service largely by accepting a control-
ling interest in undertakings to which the
name of Sandys & Merton lent a commercial
value. The great social event, with its great
display of plate and jewels, was followed by
a great "cracksman's" event: before the
awakening of the Sandys household after the
festival, a judiciously selected portion of the
jewels had disappeared. The reward offered
was so large that the Front Ofllice was touched
in its tenderest sensibilities. There seemed
something almost wicked in declining to sup-
ply a man, anxious to part with a sum like
that, with a chance to hand it ^^^r. i

A BILL FROM TIFFANY'S.

475

The instructions of the Chief were a model
of manly eloquence: ** Somebody's got to
get .that dough. Sandys *11 t'row a fit if he
can't cough up, and you coppers got to help
him. I ain't goin' to have the Eye people
snake in all the loose coin: I give it to you
straight. They more'n did us on that Hogan
deal; an' the papers roasted me. They
called me a 'jaundiced tutelary dodo.' /
don't know what the blamed thing means,
but I won't stand for it. I can't get at the
feller that wrote it,
but I can make your
skins too hot to hold
you if he gets a chanst
to do it again. A
town as big as this
can find its own guns
without callin' in
private fly cops. You
fellows spread your-
selves on this case, you
take my tip. Get your
mouthpieces on the
run; bribe 'em, pinch

'em, do what you

please, but get that

dough. An* get the

gun, too. Some o' the

country papers have

beenshoutin' 'bout this ^

force bein' crooked. ^

They say that we're

only out for the dough

in jobs like this, an' let

the gun make a get

away. I'm sick o'

this hollerin*, and if .

it don't quit I'll make

every man jack of you sick of it, too."

That afternoon an ornate reporter's column
in one of the public prints consisted of an in-
terview with the ** subtle and competent De-
tective Minick." It referred to him alter-
nately as another Sherlock Holmes and as a
second Old Sleuth. Sadie did not know who
Sherlock Holmes and the Old Sleuth were.
When Kittie asked her, she said they were
former chiefs of police: and there were a
number of words iu the article she could not
understand. But the general drift of it she
perceived was commendatory, and she felt
an immediate access of affection for Charley
— and was sorry she had not asked for a
bigger diamond. Charley was alleged to be
" working " on the Sandys case. His " work "
for the moment consisted in examining the
scene of the robbery, in making notes of
seventeen particulars which he perfectly be-

lieved to be insignificant, and in arresting
three servants whom he perfectly believed
not guilty. Out of the seventeen insignifi-
cant particulars he formulated a ** theory "
of the case so ingenious that no man in his
senses would act upon it. Happily he did
not make it to act upon ; he made it to give
to the newspapers. These things he did in
order that Mr. Sandys and the public might
recognize that he was '' taking an interest."
When he had secured this point, he was per-
fectly at a loss what to
do next, except, as he
phrased it, " to rubber
around," which is
technical and esoteric
for keeping his eyes and
ears open. Every one
else who was ** work-
ing " on the case was
equally at a loss : every
one was just ** rub-
bering around."

One morning, while
matters were at this
pass, the Chief hand-
ed Minick a telegram
which was dated
Akron, Ohio. It sig-
nified that one** Bud"
Denmer — age thirty-
six, height five feet
;<r^ :^^- eleven and a quarter,

complexion dark, eyes
blue hazel, hair prema-
turely gray and black,
beard solid black, teeth

Detective CkarUw Minick. gOOd, UOSO largO aud

pugnacious, weight
165 pounds — ^was * 'wanted," and was sup-
posed to be in New York. The reward
was $500, and the particulars would follow
by letter.

Women, in the Great Republic at least,
are superior to men in everything, except
the ability to remain in great cities during
the hot season. This is the almost univer-
sal testimony of those who have given the
question the greatest amount of attention,
and when specialists agree it ill becomes
the uninformed to profess an opinion. The
point is that Mrs. Richard Cober was an ex-
ception to the general rule ; she found it im-
possible to master the elements of applied
mathematics. Even in the matter of the
currency she could never be got to under-
stand that one dollar is no better than an-
other dollar, when the first dollar was her

Digitized by V:iOOQIC

476

TRUE STORIES FROM THE UNDER-WORLD.

Richard Cober.

own and the second was some one else's;
and when the calculation came to concern
husband and children her incapacity reached
its extreme.

Richard Cober was fast becoming the head
of a profession of which he was proud, but
which he disliked to hear called by its right
name. He was only a part of the time ac-
tively engaged in it, and it took him for the
most part out of town into ** the beyond.''
He was understood by his children, and nom-
inally by his wife, to be a " traveling " man.
His absences would last a few days or a few
weeks, and out of ** the beyond " he would
commonly bring back a great deal of money
or a very bad temper ; once his absence lasted
nearly three years, and he brought back only
a new suit of clothes, a pallid face, and a
most unpleasant trick of the eyes. Little
Bessie said that he looked like a ** bogy-
man," and little Bobbie said he " 'ooked
'ike a feif " ; and both cried out and clapped
their hands and ran in great glee to greet
him. Mamma afterward explained to them
that he had had an accident in " the be-
yond, ' ' and had been for a long while confined
to the house, and that it had been bad for
him to use his eyes. Bessie told him she
was ** 80 sorry — ever so sorry — really! " for
his accident ; and Bobbie assured him that he

did not look in the least ** 'ike a feif," but
*' 'ike a dear 'dorable papa."

When Richard Cober was in luck he was
lavish with his '' kids," and at all times liked
nothing better than to have them tumbling
over him; and whether or not he was in
luck, there was nothing their mamma could
want that he did not find a way to provide.
Bobbie may have erred in the letter in his
consolatory assurance, but he was right in
his main intention. It may be doubted
whether Richard ** looked" adorable — for
the most part he looked uncommonly sharp
and hard — but in his daintily upholstered
flat in Clinton Place he was at least adored.
He sang songs and cut a double shufile for
the kids and played at blind-man's buff; and
Mrs. Cober possessed jewels that would have
made Sadie Meeker's frosty eyes burn with
desire. Of an evening it was his habit to
spend some hours in brilliantly lighted rooms
supplied liberally with mirrors and with round
hardwood tables, at which men with diamond
scarf-pins and bovtonniHres sat or lolled in
easy chairs and called for drinks. Because
his own diamond scarf-pin and bovionniere
were not conspicuously large, but unmistak-
ably more ** choice," everybody hailed him
admiringly as '* Buck," and demanded what
he would *' take."

One afternoon, while Bessie was dandling
a doll half as big as herself, and Richard and
Bobbie were doing a cake-walk with an en-
ergy and freedom of grimace and gesture
that made her scream with laughter, the
door opened, and a gentleman, who had held
a little colloquy with the maid in the hall,
entered unannounced. The gentleman was
Detective Minick.

There was an instant in which, if Detec-
tive Minick had been a timid man, he would
have found the sight of Richard bad for his
nerves. That the sight of Minick was bad
for Richard's nerves there was not the slight-
est doubt. But there are courtesies in the
Under- World ; even men who play for stakes
as high as life, liberty, and the pursuit of
happiness permit themselves the luxury of
treating one another with respect.

** Eighteen-carat place you got here, Buck,
old sport; pie-anna, French clock, Turkey
rugs, nice kids; things been goin' your
way."

** Don't look as if you'd been up against
hard luck yourself. Skip, kids. Mr. Minick
and me mW be wantin' to bill and coo in
private."

These were amenities. People do not
shake hands in the Under- World, except as

Digitized by V:iOOQIC

A BILL FROM TIFFANY'S.

477

a sign of extreme formality, neither do they
look one another steadily in the face except
in anger; they glance at one another from
time to time and converse at an angle of
forty-five degrees. A certain gruffness of
manner and voice are also de rigvewr. It was
Detective Minick's profession to bring every
man's trouble home to him ; but he had the
reputation of executing his disagreeable task
with as little offense as possible. It was an
incident of Richard Cober's profession that
he did not like to have people call on him ;
it always made him uncomfortable until they
stated their business, and then sometimes it
made him still more uncomfortable.

"Somethin' doin*?" he asked with la-
conic elegance.

** A little matter o' my own. I want you
to put me next."

" What the blazes do you' come to me
about ' next ' for ? I ain't next to no thin'
in this town, except you dead ones at the
Front Office."

•' Read the papers lately ? "

'* One o' you fly cops croaked, an' you
want to touch me for a bouquet for the
stiff?"

" Seen the details o' that Sandys job ? "

'* Oh, it's that, is it ? You can search rne.
You'll have to guess again if you want to
pick a winner. I ain't mixed up in that. I
haven't done any work in this town for five
years. I live here, an' you know well enough
that where I live there's nothin' doin'. I've
got too much at stake."

"Don't suppose I'd be sittin' here rub-
berin' at your wall-paper if you done it, do
you ? But I want you to get mixed up in
it. There's 5,000 semoleons reward, an' I
need 'em in my business."

** Who told you 't I was interested in your
business ? I got troubles o' my own."

These also were amenities. The next
statement was open combat.

** It won't do, Charley. I give it to you
straight, I didn't do the job myself, an'
don't know who did ; but if I knew I wouldn't
tell you. I ain't got nothin' against you
personally. You always treated me square,
an' I'd go as far for you as another man ;
but I never yet beefed on a pal, an' I'm not
goin' to begin. I know it's done, as well as
you do. I haven't heard of a reward these
last ten years that you people have copped
out that some gun didn't help you get; but
you can keep the dough for all me — when
you get it. I'm a bad lot if you like, but I
wouldn't turn mouthpiece for the whole five
thousand."

'* Better wait till I offer 'em," said Minick
intently. *' What '11 you do for this?"
Minick passed him with one hand a telegram
from Akron, Ohio, and with the other fin
gered a revolver in his coat-pocket. Minick's
acquaintances whom he met in the way of
business were sometimes spasmodic in their
movements. Moreover, Richard was age
thirty-six, height five feet eleven and a
quarter, complexion dark, eyes blue hazel,
hair prematurely gray and black, beard —
that is to say, close-cut mustache — solid
black, teeth good, nose large and pugnacious,
weight 165 pounds.

** Swell place you got here. Buck; pie-
anna, French clock, Turkey rugs, nice kids.
I should think you'd hate to shift."

Minick was to be congratulated on the
completeness with which he had thought out
his case.

** I don't want to be hard on you, Buck.
I'll give you time all right to turn the thing
over in your mind; but understand me, I
want those semoleons. If you should hap-
pen to discover a way of helpin' me get them,
well — it's been six years since I seen Bud
Denmer in Joliet. I might be so stuck on
myself I couldn't recognize him in the street
if I passed him a dozen times a day; an' I'm
the only man on the force that's onto his
mug. If you shouldn't happen to discover
a way of helpin' me, that telegram reads
cuffs in Clinton Place, jail in Akron, stir in

Digitized by V:iOOQIC

478

TRUE STORIES FROM THE UNDERWORLD,

Colarabus, free rides between p'ints, an' free
grab an' lodgin' everywhere."

'* Dick, you've said time after time that
if it ever came to a pass again, where you
had to choose between me and the kids and
a gun, you'd let the gun go ; and you're up
against that choice now," urged Mrs. Rich-
ard Cober, when Minick had said ** So long,"
and taken his leave. ** You've got enough
money saved up to quit the business anyhow.
I've often told you that with what we have
in the bank we could go over to London,
bring up the kids respectably, and live de-
cently ourselves."

*^ A man like me's no business with kids,
Nell, old girl, nor with a woman either,"
said Ck)ber wearily, not for the first time in
his life ** up against " the eternal difference
between a woman's world and a man's.

Be it known that in the Under- World, as
in the Upper, everybody minds his own busi-
ness when his own business is promising;
when it is not, he minds conscientiously and
discusses with unction the business of every-
body else. Speaking broadly, the only per-
son who knows nothing and can discover
nothing of who did what, is the detective.
He is as well known as if he moved about
preceded by a town-crier. On all sides of
him the words that it concerns him to hear
are vibrating in the air. The vibrations die
away just before they reach his ears.

That evening, after his pacific interview
with Minick, (5)ber loitered listlessly about
the better sort of haunts of the Powers That
Prey. He was caught up by groups who
back mathematics versus confidence and stand
to win, and heard the latest gossip about the
favorite, the odds offered and asked, the
latest news of the champion's ** condition,"
the latest arrangements for a '' fake " match
of bantam-weights, in which everybody who
put money on the sure thing was to gain ex-
perience at the end of a rally in the eighth
round. He heard the last great score at
billiards, the last great game at hazard, and
received an invitation to make one of a select
party forming to work the crowd at the com-
ing Cincinnati Sangerfest. From time to
time, in the lull of more urgent affairs, a
remark was dropped that ** Blinky" pulled
off a good thing two days ago at *' Phillie's ;"
that that had been a tidy ** get away" the
night before on Fifty-ninth Street ("Long
Morgan, you know," was added in a lower
tone by way of complete information), and
that '* Barney " had not been seen for some

days and must have something ' ' on. " Rich-
ard would have been too shrewd, which is to
say he loved his own skin too intelligently,
to put direct questions about the Sandys
job; nor would there have been the least
reason why he should ask questions. The
Sandys job was just becoming a subject of
impassioned surmise. Twenty times in the
evening Cober himself was asked if he knew
who did it ; twenty times he listened to notes
of admiration of the cleverness with which
it had been planned and executed, and to the
opinion that it was the work of ** outside
talent." Before the evening was gone he
came to loathe outside talent; he was sick
of ''outside talent," he was sick of the
neatness of the Sandys job, he was sick of
the choice that he must make, and of the
evil that must befall him no matter what he
chose. For himself he cared really little
enough, if the truth were told, but it was
altogether true that a man like him had no
business with a woman and '' kids."

He had fully mastered his ideas in this
connection when he entered " The Green
Dragon," and the presiding Belial stepped
forward and handed him a note. It con-
sisted of but two lines and a signature — he
had received the precise duplicate of it just
as he was leaving Clinton Place : ** I want to
see you in a hurry, Buck. Pull the ringer
at the number given in the other note. L. C."
Half an hour afterward he was sitting at the
bedside of Lubin Cavanaugh, in a house on
Sixteenth Street, where single gentlemen
were permitted to pay exorbitant rates for
lodging for the privilege of presenting intro-
ductions which guaranteed their reputability.
When, in obedience to a weak-voiced sum-
mons to " come in," Richard first entered
the room, he perceived an emaciated head
fallen back in an ecstasy of exhaustion among
the pillows. When the emaciated head
had identified its visitor as Buck Cober, it
hailed him as '* Hello, Old Sport," and the
man to whom it belonged sat upright and
threw back the bed clothes and resumed an
interrupted labor, which was the labor of
''setting," or possibly, as Richard judged,
of resetting jewels.

" Thought you might be the doctor with
some more dope. He an' I are doin' a little
song an' dance together while I fix up this pen-
nyweight job. I'm playin' the pennyweight
game alone, an' he might want to cut in.
He'd speculate on these sparklers in his bill,
if he knew I had 'em. Beutes, ain't they ? "

The time had been when a "sparkler"
had the same fascination for Richard Cober

A BILL FROM TIFFANY'S,

479

that it had for Lubin Cavanaugh, bat he was
in no mood that evening to adn>ire another
man's plunder. A wonder as to the pre-
vious ownership of the jewels he could not
repress — even in the **stir" men make
guesses as to the origin of an unscheduled
piece of bread — but "the etiquette of the
Under-World forbids inquiry in regard to
such matters.

** Then it's just a song an' dance ? " Rich-
ard asked, referring to the bottles of medi-
cine on the table and Cavanaugh's xeclining
position.

* * That's all. Never felt better in my life.
The doc calls it symptoms o' pneumonia, but
they're the kind you an' I had when we made
- out we was dyin' o' consumption out in the
Joliet stir. 'Member how we got into the
hospital, don't cher ? You faded away on
soap, an' I jus' kept a-coughing. There was
'bout fifty of us dyin' o' consumption that
bit, wasn't there? What you so blue about.
Buck ? Dig into that booze there, an' get
a brace on. You an' Nell ain't been havin'
a row, have you?"

The reference to Richard's domestic rela-
tions was merely experimental; Gavanaugh
was in such good spirits himself that he
could only fall back on the bachelor's chronic
surmise when a married friend is out of sorts.

** No. It's jus' a general case o' grouch.
I get hipped ev'ry now an' then jus' as I
used to. What can I do for you, Lubin ? I
got to shift in a few minutes."

The two looked at each other for an in-
stant in that quick but piercing way which
all guns, let alone '' pals," have. Merely a
week's separation is sufficient to make nec-
essary this preliminary test of a comrade's
loyalty before new contracts can be entered
into. Gavanaugh believed that he saw in
his old companion the same Buck Gober of
'* square deals " and no '* beefs."

'* I'd 'a' let you into the job, Buck," he
said, ** but it was jus' the kind o' game to
attract an old single-handed stiff like myself,
an' I played it alone. What I want is a
* dopp ' just like this one without the break,"
and he handed Gober a little instrument newly
broken. ** I've got to have a new one by
eleven o'clock to-morrow morning, an' I'll
be dead obliged to you if you'll get it for
me. I'd get it myself, but I got those symp-
toms, you know, an' the push thinks I'm out
at that crib in Mexico rollin' the wheel.
Understand, don't cher ? Say, Buck, if it's
dough you need, reach under my pillow here
an' you'll find a roll. I been there myself,
you know."

** That's all right, Lube. 'Tain't as bad
as that."

*' Well, take care o' yourself, old man,
an' if you see any o' the push, tell 'em I'm
baskin' in the sun down among the Mexies.
So long, Buck."

** Well ? " said Mrs. Gober when Richard
paused at the close of his account of the
evening's interview with Gavanaugh.

*' Well! It's cuffs in Glinton Place, jail
in Akron, free rides between p'ints, free grub
an' lodgin' everywhere. - 1 can't * beef ' on
a pal like Gavanaugh, Nell. A man's got to
stick by his friends."

** It ain't a case o' beefin' on a pal, Dick;
it's a case o' doin' dirt by me an' the kids.
There ain't one o' your friends has stood by
you like me an' the kids. If you got to
stick by your friends, you got to stick by
us."

* * It won't do, Nell. A gun's seen his luck
when he turns mouthpiece. I've watched it
since I was a little shaver sellin' papers an'
buzzin' molls. Be square with the -push,
an' the push'U be square with you, an' it'll
be the better for you in the end. I don't
even know for sure that Gavanaugh made
the touch ; but whether he did or not, he'd
know I had split on him, an' he'd follow me
till he croaked."

In an earlier period of her married life,
Mrs. Gober would at this point have resorted
to tears or to blandishments. She had
learned, however, that there were times
when Dick meant what he said, and was of
opinion as she studied him that this was one
of the times. She did not in the least give
up the battle; a hard man makes a hard
wife, unless he kills her, and she had her
idea. If she had been altogether wise she
would have held her tongue, but it is not in
nature to be so wise as that.

* * A woman is perfectly helpless when she's
tied to a man that means to play the fool,"
she said, bitterly. ** You have to be square
to the push, or the push will get even with
you ; you can do as you like by the woman
an' the kids. No matter what you do,
they've got to stand for it."

This statement being self-evident, Richard
Gober made no reply to it; he went to bed.
Half an hour later Mrs. Gober put on her
hat and shawl and softly left the house;
that, perhaps, was a part of her idea.

The raid was one of those ordinary man-
hunts witli the game at bay, the details of
which ^yen the newspapers have long sinca.

480

TRUE STORIES FROM THE UNDERWORLD.

wearied of reporting. The * * flatties ' ' in uni-
forms surrounded the place, and Minick with
three fellow-huntsmen went into the build-
ing to face an animal rather more dangerous
than one of the larger camivora. The ani-
mal, however, was intelligent. Cavanaugh
had not the slightest chance of escape, and
knew it the minute his door was forced open
and the detectives drew their revolvers.
** They're good," he remarked in the gam-
bler's jargon, and allowed himself to be
handcuffed. His onjy comment on the cap-
ture lay in the words, *' Another case of
beef."

The Sandys jewels were all found in Cav-
anaugh's possession, a number of them very
skilfully reset, and two of the larger very
skilfully disfigured. The public prints rang
the next day with the praise of the cele-
brated Minick, and repeated their version
of the unrecognized intellectual profession
which taxes the swiftest and subtlest powers
of the mind, and to which society owes its
immunity from crime. ** If a man is built
for the perfession," the illustrious Minick
was reported to have said, '' he can cop out
a gun as if by miracle; if he ain't, he can
sit at table with the man that's wanted an'
study his photograph, an' go home a dead
one." Every reporter agreed that the cele-
brated Minick was '* built for the perfes-
sion," and had laid his hand, as if by mira-
cle, on the man that was wanted ; what they
did not give him credit for was a gift for
statement not greatly unlike their own.

Sadie Meeker drew the attention of both
Marge and Kittie to the most highly ornate
paragraphs in praise of the celebrated Minick,
and enjoyed the proud delight of fame. She
had been in some doubt until the newspapers
took him up whether she cared for him
** really," but the reporters' eloquence de-
cided her. When the ring was brought a
great flush of triumph came into her face —
the diamond was bigger than Kittie' s and
prettier. **0h, Charley, there is scale in
your job," she exclaimed, ** and I will marry
you — for your mtw-tache!" The **box"
was as satisfactory as the stone, and a re-
ceipted bill from Tiffany's was even more sat-
isfactory than the box; but there were a
number of items of which Tiffany took no
account.

The week that the marriage of Detective
Minick was announced, a trivial incident oc-
curred in one of the side streets of the City
of Mexico. Different accounts of the affair
appeared at the time in the police columns
of the daily press of the city, but the only

arrest that was ever made was of the young
man who, on reading the items in the news-
papers, volunteered the information that on
the night of the trivial incident he had seen
a suspicious-looking figure loitering about
the corner where the injured man was found.
He said, furthermore, that on turning the
comer himself, he had heard the sound of
a bit of scufiling, but there was no outcry.
He very much regretted, as he stated to the
police, that he had not turned back and in-
vestigated, but he was in a hurry at the time
and gave no serious heed to the episode.
He described the suspicious-looking man that
he had seen merely as a heavily built maD>
with noticeable square jaws, and added that
he looked like an American ; although of this
he was, of course, not sure. Naturally the
police tried to find a reason for ** holding "
the young man; it served him right for
offering information that led to nothing; but
his good name among his neighbors, as well
as with certain influential city oflScials, made
it impossible seriously to suspect him. At
the city hospital, where the injured man was
taken, certain papers and checks found in
his pockets showed that he conducted his
financial affairs at leaat over the name of
Oliver Hewes, but the police were much
puzzled to find tattooed in blue ink on the
left forearm the words ** Buck Cober." The
lettering was somewhat blurred, and the in-
ference of the police was that the man had
tried to prick it out with milk. He never
regained consciousness, and it was impossi-
ble to obtain any statement from him. The
wound in his head seemed to indicate that
he had been hit with an uncommonly heavy
** billy." A woman came forward from no-
where in particular to claim the body, but
she did not seem to feel it incumbent upon
her to part with much biographical detail ;
she devoted her energy mainly to hysterics.
It has, perhaps, no connection with the
trivial incident that, two weeks before, the
following paragraph was printed rather ex-
tensively in certain newspapers in the United
States: ** Lubin Cavanaugh, alias New York

Lube, escaped from prison last night.

He is a notorious professional burglar, and
has a record against him which takes up

several pages of the prison blotter. A

reward of $500 is offered for his capture and
imprisonment until the prison authorities can
be communicated with." There are those
who rate themselves ** wise," however, who
believe that the two trivial incidents are
connected, and that a belated item should
be added to the Bill from Tiffany's.

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lO CENTS
A COPY

Strategy of National Campaigns

A ^

M9CLURES
MAGAZINE

FOR OCTOBER

The

Piper's

Charm

llie Piper promised a jdvous land,

Joining the town and just at hand

Where waters gushed and fruit trees grew,

And flowers put forth a fairer hue;

And this was the crown of the children's hope

7\> bathe in the fountains and use Pears' Soap.

( 111 ill af>o/o/^irs to Bro'vnirii:)

Ail nghtj securtd.

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Drawn by Jay HambMfje.

GOV. THEODORE ROOSEVELT AND CHAIRMAN MARCUS A. HANNA IN THE REPUBUCAN NATIONAL

HEADQUARTERS, NEW YORK.

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McClure's Magazine.

Vol. XV.

OCTOBER, 1900.

No. G

THE STRATEGY OF NATIONAL CAMPAIGNS.

IIEMINISCENCES OF THE POLITICAL WARFARE OF THE LAST TWENTY-
FIVE YEARS, BY ONE WHO HAS BEEN IN THE THICK OF IT.

Illustrated with Portraits by Jay Hambidge.

HE strategy of poli-
tics bears much
resemblance to the
science of directing
military operations.
In the Presidential
campaign

out his campaign for the nomination with
remarkable skill and was easily nominated.
With him for Vice-President ran Thomas A.
Hendricks, of Indiana. Tilden was a hard-
money man, and he was hated by the green-
backs of the West. Governor Hendricks,
now in influenced possibly more by the environment
progress, for in- than by logic, waa rated a greenbacker.

The Republicans were unfortunate in hav-
ing to carry all the scandals that had inevi-
tably followed the War, and the carpet-bag
period in the South. Rings of many kinds
had sprung up in the Federal government.
College, which may Jobbery was rampant in the District of Co-
be tSeen to corre- lumbia, in the Internal Revenue Department,
spond with the sub- in the army, and in Congress. More than
jugation of a hostile that, there was a fierce contest, followed by
country. There are in the Electoral College bitter feeling, between Conkling, the candi-
447 electoral votes scattered through forty- date of the Grant wing, and Blaine, his prin-
five States. Study closely the movements, cipal opponent in the Convention.

stance, the objective
of the rival party
generals is the at-
tainment of a major-
ity of the Electoral

Horace Oreeley.

and you will find in the march of events, all
bearing on the capture of 224 partisan elec-
tors, a problem of absorbing interest, al-
though, happily, not usually accompanied by
bloodshed, carnage, and gunpowder.

Following the Civil War, the first great
conflict in which strategy and political cun-
ning played a dominating part was that of
1876, when Samuel J. Tilden ran against
General Rutherford B. Hayes. Greeley's
defeat had left the Democracy shattered.
The great New York politician, in that cam-
paign, put the Democratic party on its feet,
and for the first time since 1856 did it go
to the polls with anything like united ranks.
Tilden, a consummate master of men, having
fought Tammany to its knees, and having
made a reputation as a smasher of rings while
Governor of New York, began and carried

It became clear, soon after the lines of
battle had been formed, that a very large
number of voters wanted a change, and that
the contest would be a stubborn one. Sen-
ator Barnum, of Connecticut, was in charge
of the Democratic campaign. Senator Zacha-
riah Chandler, of Michigan, was at the head
of the Republican canvass.

Ohio and Indiana, at that time, in the
Presidential years elected their State tickets
in October, and were known as the October
States. The election in October in these
States, however, was a drawn battle, only
Ohio going Republican, and the fight went
on with renewed vigor in Indiana, New York,
Connecticut, and New Jersey.

Election night came, and the country
awaited the result in palpitating excitement.
The returns from New York, New Jersey,

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484

THE STRATEGY OF NATIONAL CAMPAIGNS,

Connecticut, and Indiana were early. Til-
den had carried them all. He was elected
if the South was ** solid." General Hayes
conceded the election of Governor Tilden.
Zachariah Chandler, the Republican chair-
man, closed the headquarters and went to
bed confessing defeat. Yet the election was
not decided, and a dramatic incident occurred
the next morning about two o'clock that
resulted in the eventual seating of Hayes.

The late John C. Reid, managing editor
of the New York '* Times," which was the
most virile journalistic opponent of Governor
Tilden, sent his first edition to press practi-
cally conceding the election of Tilden. A
moment later a messenger arrived with a
note from Senator Barnum asking what the
'* Times " claimed in South Carolina, Florida,
and Louisiana. Mr. Reid made a mental cal-
culation, and found these three States would
elect Hayes. He immediately stopped his
presses, destroyed the edition, and got out
a new one claiming the election of Hayes by
185 votes, just enough. He knew, of course,
that if Barnum was sure of the result the
note would not have been sent hin. The
*' Herald" that same morning gave Tilden
184 votes, Hayes 166,
and put the 19 in
doubt.

Mr. Reid, leaving his
office, hurried to Repub-
lican headquarters in
the Fifth Avenue Hotel.
No one was on guard but
a telegraph operator.
Soon Senator William
E. Chandler, of New
Hampshire, Secretary
of the National Com-
mittee, came in, having
just arrived from his
own State. Mr. Reid
quickly explained the
situation to him, and
told him that these nine-
teen votes should be
counted for Hayes if
there had been an hon-
est election. These two
gentlemen then has-
tened to Chairman
Zachariah Chandler's room, routed him out
of bed, and told him the situation as he sat
blinking in his night-cap. The chairman
told the two men to do what seemed best,
and went to sleep again. A resolution was
quickly formed. With Mr. Reid's assistance
the wires were burdened with telegrams to

■'■■'.■^

Washington and to the political leaders in
South Carolina, Florida, and Louisiana, tell-
ing them that Hayes had the election, that
it all depended on these three States, and
that their electoral votes must at all hazards
be held for the Republican candidates. The
National Committee's telegrams that night
cost Mr. Reid's newspaper hundreds of dol-
lars. But for Senator Barnum's note, it is
probable Mr. Tilden's election would never
have been seriously contested.

Scores of prominent politicians from the
North began hurrying to these States on
Wednesday, and they later became popularly
termed ** visiting statesmen." The Repub-
licans had the Federal troops to back them.
The nineteen disputed electoral votes were
hung up beyond the reach of Tilden. The
Electoral Commission followed, and Hayes
was seated by a vote of eight Republicans
to seven Democrats. This was the great
strategy of the campaign of. 1876, and was
known as William E. Chandler's ** great
coup." The history of that contest has
filled many volumes, and is the most remark-
able in our history, as it brought the nation
to the verge of a civil war once more.

The campaign of 1880
marked the passage
from the political field
of tiie two great popu-
lar leaders, Tilden and
Grant. Governor Til-
den, who all Democrats
and many others to the
day of their deaths will
believe was elected
President in 1876,
withdrew as a candidate
for President before
the Democratic Na-
tional Convention was
held, and paved the way
for Democratic har-
mony in the State of
New York and for the
nomination of General
Winfield Scott Han-
cock, a gallant Union
general and a native of
Pennsylvania. Again
the Democrats took
their candidate for Vice-President from In-
diana, in the person of William E. English.
They entered the campaign with practically
a united front and reasonable chances for
success.

Not so with the Republicans. Grant,
backed by an element in the Republican

Samurl J. Tilden.

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THE CAMPAIGN OF 1880,

485

party of great strength, had been a candi-
date before the C!onvention for a third term.
There was a deep-rooted antipathy to any
man having a third
term as President, and
the cry of * * Caesarism ' '
was raised. Grant's
principal opponent was
James G. Blaine. Once
more the strife between
the Blaine and the Grant
wings prevented the
success of either fac-
tion. Conkling was the
leader of the Grant in-
terests. What hap-
pened in that memor-
able fight at Chicago is
still well remembered.

In a bitter mood Con-
kling returned to New
York. He was wedded
to Grant's cause, and
he took his defeat far
more than if he himself
had been defeated.
General James A. Gar-
field, of Ohio, was nomi-
nated by the Conven-
tion, and Chester A.
Arthur, of New York,
one of Conkling's chief
lieutenants, was nomi-
nated for Vice-Presi-

'* Hamlet'' with Hamlet left out. Garfield
registered at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, where
Conkling was living, yet Conkling did not

dent. He was nominated
without the consent of
Conkling. Conkling simply would have noth-
ing to do with anything in the Convention
after Grant's defeat.

Then came a period during which it seemed
that New York, the pivotal State, was surely
lost to Garfield. Senator Conkling, holding
the Republican .organization in the hollow of
his hand, would allow nothing to be done.
The campaign lagged. Apparently there
was no chance of getting the New York Re-
publicans into line, yet to get Conkling on
the stump was vital to the success of the
ticket. In this dire emergency. General
Garfield decided to come to New York and
bow the knee to Conkling. He was ready
to promise almost anything in reason. To
cover the real purpose of his visit, a confer-
ence of the National Committee and the
chairmen of the various Republican State
Committees throughout the Union was ar-
ranged at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. General
Garfield arrived to meet Senator Conkling
on August 4th, but it was like the play of

JoNiM A. OarMUl tmtt ai the Fifth Avenwe Hotel by Conkltng^t fritndtt-" like tJu play of ' HamUt *

uftth Hamlet left out.*^

call on him. Any communication General
Garfield might have to make must be made
second-hand. The conference of the Na-
tional leaders was held. Conkling did not
attend. Marshall Jewell, chairman of the
National Committee, was discouraged. Gen-
eral Garfield swept West by another route,
making speeches as he went, but speaking
with a heavy heart.

Soon thereafter came a calamity to the
Republicans. Maine, which had been fa-
mous in other elections as fixing the pace^in
Presidential campaigns, still elected her gov-
ernor at a September election. The green-
backers and Democrats at that September
election carried the State.

In the meantime the issues of the cam-
paign and the strategy of both the parties
became sharply defined. The Republicans
met the boast of the Democrats that they
had a solid South with speeches against the
Southern Confederacy. This style of cam-
paigning became known as ** waving the

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48G

THE STRATEGY OF NATIONAL CAMPAIGNS,

Orover CUv^and,

bloody shirt." The plans of the Repub-
licans were to solidify the North and West
for Garfield on that issue. The question of
the tariff had become prominent ; and Gen-
eral Hancock, in his letter of acceptance,
had characterized the tariff as a '' local
issue." This is a proposition on which
many of the most prominent advocates of a
protective tariff now agree, but the Repub-
licans seized upon it and made great capital
out of it, and declared for the principle of
protection pure and simple. From this
statement Hancock never recovered. He
was charged with being a free-trader; and
although he denied this, he could never over-
come the effect of his first utterance.

Garfield was subject to a bitter attack
early in the campaign. The Credit Mobilier
scandal was given prominence. At the
time of Garfield's greatest distress Conkling
was induced to break his silence. He and
General Grant went to Ohio in company.
General Grant presided at an enormous
meeting, and Conkling made a speech. This
gave new vigor to the campaign, and after a
desperate struggle for the control of the
October States, the Republicans carried both
Ohio and Indiana.

In the closing days of the campaign the
famous forged Morey letter appeared. In
this letter, purporting to have been writ-
ten by Garfield to H. L. Morey, the Presi-
dential candidate seemingly acquiesced in

the employment of Chinese labor to
the exclusion of American labor.
Unless its genuineness was dis-
proved, its effects would be to lose
the Republicans the electoral votes
of California and Oregon. Gar-
field convinced the public that the
letter was a forgery. The result
of the election was a triumph for
Garfield and Arthur, the Republi-
cans getting 214 electoral votes to
155 for Hancock and English. The
loss of New York by the Republicans
would have elected the Democratic
ticket.

Political conditions by 1884 had
undergone a tremendous change.
This was due to the great strife be-
tween the Federal administration
and Conkling, the tragedy which
sent Garfield to the tomb, the inde-
pendence of Arthur on his accession
to the Presidency, and the loss of
New York to the Republicans in the
Folger campaign, which brought to
the front that new and dominat-
ing figure in national politics, Grover Cleve-
land.

The party in power was also suffering from
serious scandals. The greatest of these was
the Star Route plundering in the Post-Office
Department. In a Congressional investiga-
tion, it was disclosed that mail contractors
had drawn unearned millions through favor-
itism. During this investigation a side light
was thrown on the campaign of 1880 by the
publication of a letter written by General
Garfield, while he was a candidate, to J. A.
Hubbell, of Michigan, chairman of the Re-
publican Congressional Committee, suggest-
ing in terms too plain to be misunderstood
that Second Assistant Postmaster-General
Brady should require the Star Route con-
tractors to contribute to the expenses of the
campaign. This letter was addressed to * * My
Dear Hubbell,'' and ''My Dear Hubbell' •
was a favorite phrase in politics for years.
Thus moorings had been loosened, and to
many it seemed that political organizations
were going adrift. The country had not
seen before, and has not witnessed since,
such a sensational struggle as that which
took place between Cleveland and Blaine.
Blaine, with both Conkling and Grant out of
politics, at last was enabled to take the first
step in the ambition of his life at the Chi-
cago Convention. He was nominated for
President, with General John A. Logan as
the candidate for Vice-President. Governor

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THE CONTEST BETWEEN CLEVELAND AND BLAINE.

487

Cleveland was nominated by the Democrats
after a hard fight. He bad the prestige of
the tremendous majority by which he had
been elected Governor, and of the record he
had made at Albany.

Almost instantly the issue became Blaine.
This remarkable man had been in public life
for many years. He had made many ene-
mies. He had done many things which laid
him open to at-
tack. He was

one of the most V

daring men un-
der political fire
that ever lived.

Now with
Blaine the candi-
date, the batter-
ies of the Demo-
crats opened on
him. He was
charged with im-
proper conduct
in trying to sell a
patent gun to the
Maine militia,
with bartering
his influence to
the Hocking Val-
ley coal interests,
with similar mis-
conduct with the
Fort Smith and
Little Rock Rail-
road. His letter
bearing on this,
with the conclud-
ing paragraph,
*' Burn this let-
ter," was made

public. So was
another letter
saying, ** I shall
not be a dead-
head in the en-
terprise." Still another, about ** casting
an anchor to windward." One of the men
to whom Mr. Blaine has written letters was
named Mulligan. The Democrats instantly
organized the ** Mulligan Guards." Mr.
Blaine took the stump and made a tour of
the country, meeting the charges with that
spirit and dash which had always character-
ized him. Indiana had ceased to be an Octo-
ber State, but an October election was still
held in Ohio. Mr. Blaine made a tour of Ohio
from end to end and side to side, speaking
now from rear platforms, and now from a
stage built up of pig-iron. Ohio went Re-

JcMMs a. Blaine at " BeUkastar't J^WmI.'

publican by 10,000. It was a small major-
ity, but it was enough, and up to this time
Blaine had the best of it. The campaign
became more bitter and personal as it pro-
gressed. The private life of Grover Cleve-
land was assailed. So was the private life
of James G. Blaine. At the first whisper
of scandal against Cleveland, Mrs. Henry
Ward Beecher wrote Governor Cleveland a

letter, and he re-
plied at length,
entering a com-
plete denial. This
led the Rev.
Henry Ward
Beecher to take
the stump for
Cleveland, and he
characterized Mr.
Blaine as ** the
prince of liars."
But there was
more to come.
Another attack,
this time very
specific in its na-
ture, was made
on Grover Cleve-
land's private
character. It
was something
requiring prompt
attention. It
was damaging,
and to the minds
of many almost
fatal to the
Democratic can-
didate. A con-
ference was has-
tily called.
Senator William
H. Bamum was
still chairman of
the Democratic
National Committee. Senator Arthur P.
Gorman was chairman of the Executive,
or Campaign, Committee. Senator Gorman
was one of those who went to meet the Gov-
ernor. Mr. Cleveland had written a long
letter in which he defended himself from the
charges made against him. Gorman read the
letter.
** This," said he, '* will never do."
Then and there he tore up the letter the
Presidential candidate had written and tossed
the fragments into the grate. Instead of
the long letter thus destroyed, there were
given to the press the next day a few lines

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488

THE STRATEGY OF NATIONAL CAMPAIGNS.

addressed to an inquirer, in which occurred
these memorable words, ** Tell the truth."
Their directness caught the public. The at-
tack really acted as a boomerang, and '' Tell
the truth" became a slogan in the cam-
paign.

Now great difficulties began to confront
the Republicans. Blaine had been regarded
by the Republican managers as assuredly
elected the first week in October. But one
thingfiecessary was that the campaign should
be kept going at full steam. This could not
be done without money,
and the treasury of the
National Committee be-
came exhausted. Mr.
B. F. Jones, a wealthy
manufacturer of Pitts-
burg, was chairman of
the National Committee,
and he had been influen-
tial in raising money.
But the attacks on Mr.
Blaine, and the popu-
larity of Governor Cleve-
land based on his courage
as a reformer, had driven
many wealthy Republi-
cans, who had been de-
pended on for contribu-
tions, into the ranks cf
the independents, known
as ** mugwumps, " a term
first applied to them in
this campaign.

So it was that Chair-
man Jones, one day in
October, called his Campaign Committee to-
gether . His face wore a very serious expres-
sion. He had already given $83,000 from
his private purse. He could give no more.

Then a step was decided upon which cost
James G. Blaine the Presidency. Mr. Blaine
had finished his campaigning in the West.
He had been advised by many of his friends
to go home to Maine and remain there until
after the election. These persons believed
that if he came to New York something
would be likely to happen which would cause
disaster. But money was needed, and Mr.
Blaine came to New York to help raise it.
A dinner was arranged for him at Delmoni-
co's. It was a money-raising dinner, pure
and simple. There he met the most promi-
nent business men and financiers in New
York City. Jay Gould was there. So were
Cyrus W. Field, Russell Sage, and John Jacob
Astor. Included in the list were bankers
and brokers, officials of the Vanderbilt and

Gould railroads. Standard Oil magnates, and,
indeed, representatives of almost the entire
wealth of New York City centered in Wall
Street. Reporters were not permitted to
attend. At that time Jay Gould was an
issue in politics, and so were the trunk lines.
General Benjamin F. Butler was running for
President on an anti-monopoly platform . He
was supported by the New York "Sun,'*
Cleveland's most bitter opponent, and was
expected to draw votes from the Democrats.
Thinks then, of Blaine going to a monopoly
banquet in the closing
days of an anti-monopoly
campaign! The dinner
was a tactical blunder,
and it was only necessary
for Mr. Blaine and Mr.
Jones to read the papers
the next morning to re-
alize the full folly of the
dinner. It was there
labeled '* Belshazzar's
Feast." From one end
of the country to the
other went the state-
ment that Blaine was
Gould's man, and ^ that
Gould had given a' ban-
quet with the purpose
to raise money with
which to purchase
Blaine's election. This
was a great calamity,
but regarded not in it-
self as necessarily fatal.
Another calamity came
to Mr. Blaine on the same day, October 29,
1884. In order to offset the defection of
the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, an ecclesias-
tical reception had been arranged for Mr.
Blaine at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. Many
ministers of the gospel were present. The
Rev. Dr. Burchard was the spokesman. Mr.
Blaine received them on the second floor,
and Dr. Burchard addressed him, standing
on the third step of the great staircase.
Near the conclusion of his address Dr. Bur-
chard said :

** You represent all the virtues. Mr.
Cleveland represents rum, Romanism, and
rebellion."

All who were watching Mr. Blaine at the
time agree that he started violently as this
utterance was made. He realized as quickly
as the representatives of the Democratic
National Committee in the crowd the awful
import of the words. But he w^ powerless
to rebuke the statement, not wishing to

Arthur Pue Garman,

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HOW BLAINE WAS DEFEATED.

489

oflfend the Protestant clergy who had called
to do him honor. He endeavored to explain
it next day ; but it was too late. The enemy
was not idle, and " Rum, Romanism, and Re-
bellion" went through the country hand in
hand with the news of " Belshazzar's Feast."
To all it was apparent that New York was
the pivotal State again. Whichever party
carried it, carried the election. When the
full returns came in, it was found that Mr.
Cleveland had the electoral vote of New York
by 1,047 plurality. The Republicans disputed
the count. They claimed, and still claim,
that the votes cast for Benjamin F. Butler
in Richmond County, and in some districts of
New York and Kings County, to the number
of more than 2,700, were counted for Grover
Cleveland. General Butler makes this dis-
tinct charge in his published memoirs.

For a time se-
rious trouble
seemed to be im-
pending. In this
crisis, William C.
Whitney called a
conference at the
Fifth Avenue Ho-
tel. There were

Wmiam C. Whitney.

lit i

B^reher •tumping fnr Cler9lamtL

present Chairman Barnum, Senator Gorman,
Thomas E. Benedict, the late Hubert 0.
Thompson, Robert
A. Maxwell, and oth-
ers. The Democrats
deemed it necessary
to have a fund to
protect the count.
Mr. Whitney under-
took to raise the.
money, and he did
raise $50,000. The
next day it was an-
nounced that the
Democratic lawyers
would be reenforced
by Roscoe Conkling,
who would give them
his opinion on all
points of law. In
addition to this, the
returns showed that
Oneida County, Conkling's former home, had
given Cleveland 1,000 Itepublican votes. The
narrow Democratic margin in New York
stood, and Grover Cleveland became President
of the United States. Mr. Blaine afterward
said that he drew back from the contest be-
cause he believed that civil war would have
resulted.

There were signs early in 1888 that the
country was preparing for another upheaval.
Cleveland, of course,
was the standard-
bearer of his party
again, but his admin-
istration was attacked
chiefly because of the
tariff-reform message
and the consequent
unsettlement of busi-
ness conditions. Sen-
ator Gorman and Sen-
ator Calvin S. Brice of
Ohio were the Demo-
cratic campaign mana-
gers.

The nomination of
General Harrison, of
Indiana, by the Re-
publicans, was well re-
ceived, and the plac-
ing of Levi P. Morton
on the ticket as the
candidate for Vice-
President placated
New York; and at this
time there was no
difficulty in getting

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490

THE STRATEGY OF NATIONAL CAMPAIGNS.

the leaders of the Empire State into line.
Senator M. S. Quay and James S. Clarkson of
Iowa had charge of the Republican canvass.

New York again was the State on which
the election turned. As in 1884, the candi-
date who carried the Empire State was to
win. The principal issue was the tariff, but
for the first time trusts came prominently
forward. The use of money in elections
also became a conspicuous feature. Four
prominent merchants and manufacturers in
Pennsylvania raised a
fund said to be about
$400,000 for the Harrison
campaign.

Senator Quay, in speak-
ing of expected campaign
contributions, was re-
ported to have said that
the managers would pro-
ceed to **fry the fat"
out of the protected
manufacturers. ''Frying
the fat" is still an ex-
pression used whenever
the Republican managers
begin the collection of
campaign funds.

Late in the canvass
there was a startling de-
velopment regarding the
use of money, when the
Democrats procured and
published a letter pur-
porting to be signed by
W. W. Dudley, treasurer
of the Republican Na-
tional Committee, re-
specting the vote-getting
in Indiana on election
day. Two of the rules
laid down in this letter will bear reproduc-
tion:

1. To find out who had Democratic boodle, and
steer the Democratic workers to them and make them
pay big prices for their own men. . . .

4. Divide the floaters into blocks of five, and put
a trusted man with the necessary funds in charge of
this five and make him responsible that none get away
and all vote our ticket.

Mr. Dudley denounced the letter as a for-
gery, but it is a fact that a very large sum
of money, in bills of a small denomination,
was sent to Indiana in charge of two trusted
Republican workers. The writer has talked
with one of the men who took the money.
It was to be turned over to the Indiana Re-
publicans at Cincinnati. It was taken in a
trunk. By the time the two men and the

Matthew Stanley Quay.

trunk arrived in Cincinnati, the Dudley let-
ter had been published. One of the men
took fright, and disappeared. The Indiana
men, not knowing what information the Demo-
crats had, were afraid to come to the hotel
selected as a rendezvous. There the remain-
ing guard of the money, heavily armed, stood
by his post, night and day for two whole
days, and finally turned it over to the Hoosier
delegation. Indiana in that year went Re-
publican by a small majority.

Senator Quay was fa-
miliar with the whole
story of the loss of New
York State to Blaine in
1884. He proceeded to
guard against the mis-
takes that the Republicans
^^1^ had made, and devised a

ifW^^ ^ost comprehensive plan

^'^ for carrying the Empire

State for Harrison. It is
necessary to explain that
each of the great political
parties had accused the
other of colonizing voters
in New York City; that
is, registering a large
number of names and
hiring illegal voters from
other States to vote on
these names. Tammany,
being in control of the
police force, would natur-
ally b^ able to do more of
this work, but the Repub-
licans had the benefit of a
United States Supervisor
of Elections in John I. Da-
venport, who had an enor-
mous number of deputies.
Early in the campaign Quay met a man
by appointment in a town in New Jersey.
He explained to him in great detail what he
wanted done, and arranged for the payment
to him at stated intervals of large sums of
money. '* Now," said the Republican man-
ager at the conclusion of the interview, '* you
have your orders; go ahead. But until this
work is done do not come near me, and do
not in any way give any one an intimation
that we may ever have met.'*

Very soon after this meeting a new firm
of directory publishers began work in New
York City. An entire building was rented
on Broadway, and an enormous sign bearing
the words ** New York City Directory " was
thrown across its front. An army of can-
vassers were put to work, and soon the

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''LOOK AT THOSE BOOKS.''

491

/;:_::.

*' Look at

names of all the inhabit-
ants of the city were
collected. But the new
directory did not appear.

It was late in the cam-
paign and the directory
sign was down. The
newspaper organs of
both parties were crying
'* Wholesale Coloniza-
tion " and *' Fraud
Afoot." There were
many evidences that
both organizations had
imported large numbers
of voters. At this junc-
ture Quay sent for a
prominent Democrat
closely identified with
the Cleveland campaign
in New York. He took
him into a room that
contained piles of books
as large as ledgers,
reaching half-way to the
ceiling.

''There!" he ex-
claimed with a wave of his hand
those books. We've got you.'*

He took down one of the books and opened
it. It contained the names and addresses of
all the male voters in a
certain ward, carefully
arranged, first alphabeti-
cally, and then house by
house and block by
block.

''These books," he
added, " contain the
names of the men who
have a right to vote.
If others vote, the jails
will not be big enough to
hold them."

There was little illegal
voting, at least by Demo-
crats, in New York City
in that election.

David B. Hill ran for
Governor that year, and
he had the support of
Tammany, while Tam-
many was angry at Cleve-
land. Election day
brought about an un-
precedented result in
New York. Hill was re- \ —

elected Governor by
19,000, but Harrison wchaM croker.

David Bennett HUl.

carried the State by
14,000. Cleveland's
friends charged that Hill
and Tammany sold out
the electoral ticket, but
President Cleveland de-
clared solemnly the next
day that he believed Hill
had been loyal.

At midnight of elec-
tion day Quay issued one
of his characteristic
pronunciamientos : " We
have carried the election
and will hold it with the
mailed hand."

New York, as every-
body expected, settled
the day. It was the key
to the position. The
result was largely due
to Quay's novel methods.
'Hie admission of the
territories of Idaho,
Washington, Montana,
Wyoming, North Da-
kota, and South Dakota
as States during Harrison's administration
and the increase in the Congressional repre-
sentation in other States had, by 1892, en-
larged the strategic field, so that the Elec-
toral College consisted
of 444 votes. Both par-
ties began the campaign
with many of the leaders
utterly disgusted with
their candidates. Har-
rison was renominated
despite the protest of
nearly all the bosses in
the important States, in-
cluding Quay of Penn-
sylvania, Piatt of New
York, Manley of Maine,
and Clarkson of Iowa.
Blaine resigned as Sec-
retary of State in Har-
rison's Cabinet on the
eve of the Convention
and became a candidate
against him.

Cleveland, too, was
nominated for a third
time after an exceed-
ingly bitter struggle. It
was probably the fiercest
ever waged in a Demo-
cratic convention.

Both candidates^Tas
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)

492

THE STRATEGY OF NATIONAL CAMPAIGNS.

Whltelau) Reid. Benjamin Ilarriton, and Thoma* C. Piatt in conference at Ophtr Farm.

soon as they were nominated, applied them-
selves to the task of getting the New York
politicians to support their election. Cleve-
land had the least trouble. William C.
Whitney brought about amicable relations.

General Harrison had to placate not only
the New York machine, but almost the en-
tire Republican organization of the country.
He had fought Quay and Don Cameron over
patronage, and had almost mortally offended
Senator Piatt by refusing to appoint him
Secretary of the Treasury and by ignoring his
recommendations as to various appointments.
At the very outset Harrison, instead of thank-
ing Quay for his efforts in 1888, had spoken
coldly about Quay, and gave his thanks to di-
vine Providence " for pulling him through."
Quay retaliated by assisting Don Cameron in
the Senate in his fight against the Force Bill.
With the Democratic senators from the South
he played the Force Bill against theTariff Bill.
** Which do you want," said Quay, ' a Force
Bill or a Tariff Bill ? " The Tariff Bill pre-
vailed, and the Force Bill was lost, and came
up to plague Harrison in this campaign.

Harrison had difficulty in getting any one
to serve as chairman of the National Com-
mittee. The position was offered to prob-
ably a dozen men, who declined to serve.
Finally, in sheer desperation, the Committee
elected Thomas H. Carter, of Montana, who
was then Commissioner of the Land Office,
and is now United States Senator, and at last
it got to work in a half-hearted, hap-hazard
sort of way.

The Homestead strike and riots, and those
at Buffalo, all aided the Democrats. Mr.
Cleveland's managers set up the cry of
** plutocracy," by which they meant a new
class supported by millions gained through
the new tariff. Speedily the situation bright-
ened for Cleveland, and the Republicans
floundered.

Senator Piatt, the acknowledged leader in

New York, remained inactive. The Presi-
dent was at Loon Lake, in the Adirondacks.
Mutual friends of President Harrison and
Senator Piatt went to see the Republican
candidate. Then followed General Harri-
son's famous visit to Ophir Farm, near White
Plains, the country seat of Whitelaw Reid,
President Harrison's associate on the ticket.
There President Harrison was visited by Sen-
ator Piatt, accompanied by William Brook-
field, chairman of the Republican State Com-
mittee, and General Samuel Thomas. When
these three gentlemen arrived, they were
shown into the parlor, where General Harri-
son and Mr. Reid were awaiting them. After
shaking hands, Mr. Brookfield and General
Thomas withdrew, leaving Senator Piatt with
the two candidates sitting there in the dim
twilight. What was said and done only
these three gentlemen knew, but Senator
Piatt went to work for the ticket and sup-
ported it loyally.

With great vigor the Democrats pressed
their advantage. They made a fight in every
State in the Union. William F. Harrity, a
rising young Democrat of Pennsylvania, who
had been postmaster of Philadelphia under
Cleveland, was chairman of the National
Committee. Don M. Dickinson, of Michi-
gan, who had been Cleveland's Postmaster-
General, was chairman of the Executive
Committee, and was destined to play a dis-
tinguished part in the election.

In the campaign of 1888 Senator Brice,
of Ohio, had spent much time in the West
endeavoring to carry Illinois, Wisconsin, and
Michigan for Cleveland. His roseate re-
ports about the Democratic party's pros-
perity in these States caused him to be styled
a ** Rainbow Chaser." Don M. Dickinson,
in 1892, went West on the same mission.
He was accused of chasing rainbows, but as
a result of his efforts about the entire Mid-
dle West went to the Cleveland pokimn. t

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THE BEGINNINGS OF A FUSION PARTY.

493

In their eagerness to win in this campaign,
the Democrats took a step that was the fore-
runner of the coalition between the Demo-
crats and Populists in 1896. The People's
party had already begun to make its influ-
ence felt in the West. General Weaver was
the Populist candidate for President. The
Democrats went deliberately to work to
form a coalition or fusion with them, to

and captured one vote in each of the States
of North Dakota and Oregon.

In the campaign of 1892 both the great
parties spent large sums of money, but the
Democrats had absolutely more money than
they could use, while the Republicans at the
most critical stage of the campaign became
practically bankrupt. The day after the
election Cornelius N. Bliss, treasurer of the

keep votes away from Harrison. In a num-
ber of States they succeeded. Cleveland
was elected by a landslide, having 277 elec-
toral votes, but the free-silver element of
the party came into control before the
expiration of his term and dominates it
still.

Indeed, in that election the surprising run
of General Weaver, the Populist candidate,
made the general coalition between the
Democrats and Populists which came in
1896 inevitable. Weaver received twenty-
two votes in the Electoral College, having
carried Colorado, Idaho, Kansas, Nevada,

William Jenning* Bryan.

Republican National Committee, after pay-
ing off all the debts, discovered that his pri-
vate bank account was $75,000 smaller. He
did not get this money back until 1896. Im-
mediately after the election he went to the
rooms of the American Protective Tariff
League, of which he was president, intend-
ing to close up the establishment. He dis-
covered that the League had $5,000 in the
bank and no debts. He was astonished.

*'This,'' said he, *' is the only solvent
thing in the Republican party in the United
States.''

The great campaign over^^e financial
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494

THE STRATEGY OF NATIONAL CAMPAIGNS.

question in 1896 is too recent to require any
elaborate explanation. The strategy was
clear to any one who watched the progress
of events. All politicians agree that when
Bryan was nominated he was apparently cer-
tain of a majority of the electoral votes of
the country. The free-silver propaganda
had been carried on throughout the West,
and States like Iowa, Indiana, Michigan, and
even Minnesota were regarded as certain to
go for Bryan, unless a remarkable change
took place in the sentiments of the farmers.
This then had to be combated with litera-
ture, speakers, money, and a business panic.
Senator Hanna, chairman of the Republican
National Committee, moved the main head-
quarters of the party to Chicago, and from
that point directed the fight. A campaign
of education was begun, and a vast amount
of money was expended in combating the
arguments in favor of the free coinage of
silver. Hundreds of men carrying this lit-
erature journeyed through these States in
wagons. They distributed their tracts, talked
with the farmers, and reported regularly at
given points. In time a change was appar-
ent. Bryan to offset this made the most ex-
tensive speaking tour known in American
politics, but all in vain. When the election
came, practically the entire Middle West,
including Kentucky, cast its electoral votes
for McKinley. These votes, added to those
of the solid East, and those of California
and Oregon, gave McKinley 271 electoral
votes, almost reaching the high-water mark
of Cleveland in 1892.

Probably never before in this country did
a political committee have such a large cam-
paign fund as that disbursed by Senator
Hanna in 1896. It reached into the millions,
and even as late as October a demand went
out to certain corporations assessing them
one-fourth of one per cent, on their capital
stock. The Committee, like the Democrats
in 1892, could not spend all their money,
and the Republican newspaper reporters on
duty at the New York and Chicago head-
quarters were all given gold medals by Sen-
ator Hanna at the conclusion of the campaign.

But what of the strategy of this campaign ?
The lines of battle are somewhat different
from those of 1896, although a declaration
in favor of the free coinage of silver at the
ratio of 16 to 1 is in the Democratic plat-
form, and the same candidates for President
are in the field. The Democrats have de-
clared that anti-imperialism is the paramount
issue. On that they are going to make their
fight, although the Republicans are seeking

to bring forward the financial issue as they
did in 1896. Most of the Democratic mana-
gers unite in the opinion that there is a
chance to win without New York. They ex-
pect to carry Indiana, Kentucky, West Vir-
ginia, Maryland, Michigan, and Illinois, all of
which went for McKinley in 1896.

The Republican managers contend that
McKinley cannot be defeated unless he loses
New York. The events of a single day
might make New York a pivotal State, as it
was in 1880, 1884, and 1888. Cleveland
could have won without New York in 1892;
McKinley could have been elected without
New York in 1896. Possibly before the
campaign closes the battle lines will fall, as
so often before, in the great Middle West
and in the Empire State.

It is a singular fact that since 1864 the
electoral vote of New York has swung like
a pendulum between the two great political
parties. Nowhere else in the Union is there
such a large army of independent voters.
Lincoln carried the State the second time in
his second campaign of 1864; Seymour car-
ried it in 1868; Grant in 1872; Tilden in
1876; Garfield in 1880; Cleveland in 1884;
Harrison in 1888; Cleveland in 1892, and
McKinley in 1896. Will it be the pivot in
1900?

Thus the lines of battle are drawn, and
in this month of October strategic move-
ments will be rapid. The political armies
engaged are far larger than any ever put
into the field in actual war. In some States
as election day approaches the entire male
voting population will be participating. The
general in command on either side will be
embarrassed, as many military leaders have
been, by the enmity of some commanding
figure in his own party— there may be a
Conkling, as in 1884; or a Gresham, as in
1892; or a Hill or a Gorman, as in 1896.

Both parties will strive for the posses-
sion of the commanding points, for the con-
trol of doubtful or pivotal States. Tactical
skill will be brought into play everywhere.
The cutting off of supplies from the enemy;
the diverting of issues so as to change the
theater of war; the weakening of rival
lines through local alliances ; the entrapping
of candidates into ambuscades through arti-
fice and subterfuge; the confusing of the
enemy through unexpected moves, the forced
marches of politics— all these things, so
familiar in war, have their parallels in
American presidential campaigns.

And the first week in November will see
the end of it all.

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" Alone with her in the gathering du$k qf eky and wo."

MADEMOISELLE PARCHESL

By Gelett Burgess.
AN ''EVENT'' WHICH TURNED OUT TO BE MORE THAN AN ''EPISODE/

JUSTIN STURGIS had missed the '* Veen-
dam" by an hour. The next vessel of
the line would not touch at Boulogne-sur-
Mer until Saturday. He had still three days
to wait, and he was already bored with the
town. The ("asino was closed, so, after
whiling away the most of the morning at the
fish market, he had struck out for the beach
and walked along the sands below the Boule-
vard. A half-mile beyond the deserted bath-
ing-machines he sat down on the shingle, and
abstractedly watched the gulls circling about
a huge rock which rose from the water be-
tween the limits of ebb and flood tide.

It was ill April, too early in the season
for tourists or ** trippers" from England,

and the whole reach of shore was deserted,,
save for an occasional fish-wife shrimping,
knee-deep in the water, framed in a glitter-
ing perspective of wsea, sand, and sunshine.

His wandering eye was arrested, after a
time, by a patch of red that appeared and
disappeared in the breakers which lazily
washed the beach. After a closer examina-
tion, Justin rose and waded into the water
to retrieve this bit of flotsam. It was a red
silk parasol, caught by the rising tide, filled
with sand and laced with the foam of the
billows.

He opened it, set it upright in the sun to
dry, burying its ivory handle in the pebbles,
and then walked curiously down the beach,

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49G

MADEMOISELLE PARCHESL

inspecting the sands. A little beyond where
he had been sitting, he encountered a double
line of footprints leading to and from a con-
fused impression in the beach. There was
a small hole scooped out by hand, half-filled
with water, and from this abandoned resting-
place the footprints led down to the foamy
seaweed, as if the owner had escaped by way
of the open sea. As the tide was rising,
Justin surmised that the owner of the para-
sol had been there some time before, and
would probably return to seek her lost prop-
erty ; and he saw in this chance, hope of an
adventure. It was, however, by this time
nearly noon, and the thought of luncheon
constrained him to hide his discovery and re-
turn as soon as possible. He concealed the
sunshade, therefore, beneath a ledge, and
made his way back to his hotel.

He found the salle d manger occupied by
a party of two, who were taking their de-
jeuner at a table not far from his, by an
open window. The elder woman was dressed
in black, and her manner and conversation
betrayed the patient chaperon of a whimsi-
cal ward. Justin's eyes slipped over her
face and figure lazily, and passed on to the
young girl opposite her. Only her back was
visible, unfortunately, but from its lines, the
curve of her cheek, and a coil of well-dressed
hair he formed an interested estimate of her
charms, which was soon justified by the re-
flection of her face in a conveniently placed
mirror. It was not long before the young
lady, who had not been altogether oblivious
of his entry, discovered this go-between
also, and she sent a swift glance occasionally
into the glass, not one of which shots missed
its mark. Her face and expression gave her
a mischievous original sort of beauty, so
much her own as to preclude any hints as
to her nationality. The two women were
speaking French, engaged in an animated
conversation, plainly audible from where the
young man sat.

Never did Justin Sturgis more painfully
regret his ignorance of the French language,
for he could not read even a tnenu. A few
words, indeed, he knew, and ombrelle sounds
remarkably like an English word of similar
significance. It was not long, then, before
he made sure that his find on the shore
might be put to good advantage, and he
swore to himself that it would be redeemed
only at the price of the girl's acquaintance.

As soon as he had made sure that she had
left the hotel, Justin set out himself, and,
making a detour at a rapid pace, reached
the shore and recovered the parasol. Then,

opening it, he stretched himself at full
length under its shade and pretended to fall
asleep. In a few moments he heard the
crunching of pebbles, and, turning cau-
tiously, he saw the young lady from the
hotel picking her way among the boulders.
By the time he had composed his features
she had come up to him.

Pardon, monsieur,^* she said, in excel-
lent French, ** but I perceive that you have
my parasol.''

The words, of course, were incomprehensi-
^ble to Justin. He was, moreover, supposed
to be asleep. He tightened his grip on the
ivory ring in the handle and tried to keep
from smiling, but an imp of mischief was
torturing him internally.

** Monsieur!'* the girl exclaimed impa-
tiently—and that was as much as Justin un-
derstood, though there followed a number
of sentences, volubly spoken and emphasized
with a stamp of the little foot whose shoe-
prints he had admired that forenoon.

Justin rose now, made her an elaborate
bow, and handed her the sunshade. These
signs, however, seemed to him so inadequate
that he spoke in English, on the chance of
her understanding him. ** I beg your par-
don, mademaiseUef for a rather poor joke,
but, as I have only just found your property,
I was waiting to see if you would have the
courage to claim it. Do you speak Eng-
lish?"

The girl's eyebrows had risen for a sec-
ond, and she bit her lip. Her brown eyes
gave him a swift look-over, from his shoes,
which were pointed, to his hair, which was
parted in the middle. *' Non,*' she said,
swallowing a smile; ** monsieur neparlepas
Pranqau?'*

** No," Justin answered in his turn; and
at this illumination of the situation, they
both broke into laughter, than which, per-
haps, there could be no better introduction.

Now, some premonition had warned Jus-
tin, as he descended the hill, to stop at the
pdtisserie and buy an assortment of cakes,
which he had brought with him down to the
shore. So, at a loss for words, in the hopes
of detaining her as long as possible, he
offered her the package, seated himself on
the sand, and beckoned her an invitation.
The girl accepted frankly, and, spreading a
tiny handkerchief, she arranged the gdteaux
upon it, for the repast.

There were coffee idairs, suffering a little
from the torment of the rapid trip, and putU
d' amour, whose shaking custard hearts were
torn by the same commotion ; two tartelettes.

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MADEMOISELLE PARCHESL

497

one of whose boatload of strawberry passen-
gers had capsized; and a couple of babas,
sweet little sponges, saturated with rum-
and-water— the favorite confection of the
American girl in Paris. She relieved the
agony of the idairs, staunching their creamy
wounds with a slim forefinger; she patted
and petted the other cakes into shape ; and
waved her hand merrily over the spread,
with a gesture of approval. She then signed
to Justin that all was ready and helped her-
self to a baba^ which disappeared between
her lips in a mumble of delight. It was
enough for Justin to sit and watch her leger-
demain, but she forced a cake upon him,
that he might share her delight.

When they had finished eating, the young
man set himself to the rather difficult tadk
of amusing her, with an impromptu conver-
sation without speech. He pointed to the
sea and sky with gesticulations of admira-
tion, and the girl evidently approved of the
landscape, sea-scape, and weather. She
helped on the dialogue in high spirits by

** By thf time he had composed hU features »he had come up to hfm.

pointing to the gulls, expressing a wish to
fly by waving her arms vertically, and her
ability to swim by horizontal motions. She
called his attention to the fishing smacks,
and, sailing in an imaginary boat, of which

she seemed to hold sheet and tiller, she made
a most successful voyage across the Channel.
Justin himself preferred riding, and he mim-
icked a horse's gallop and trot till the girl
wept with laughter, and so they responded
in kind, one following the other. She proved
herself a clever actress, willing to amuse as
well as be amused by the drollery of their
ridiculous pastime.

The acquaintance, now well under way by
the adoption of this language of signs, pro-
gressed gayly. The young lady was evi-
dently mistress of her own time, and the
whim pleased her. It was not long before
the two were playing together like two chil-
dren, building forts in the sand, pelting each
other with rags of seaweed, and making rain-
bow mosaics of colored pebbles. They walked
a mile or so up the beach and back again
frolicking ingenuously, full of the joy of the
warm spring afternoon sunshine, and capti-
vated with the innumerable absurdities of
their original relation and intercourse.
One of their earliest attempts at diversion
was in the contrivance of
a make-shift game of par-
chesi, the diagram for
which Justin drew in lines
upon the sand. The girl
recognized the circles, lad-
ders, and "safety-points"
immediately, and with her
white pebbles for coun-
ters, proved herself well
skilled in the rules of the
game, and a diflScult an-
tagonist in the race around
the square into the * ' home
circle." Partly on account
of her luck with his wooden
dice, and partly for want
of a better name, since she
would not tell him hers, he
began to call her ** Made-
moiselle Parchesi,'' and
this pseudonym she kept
as long as their acquaint-
ance lasted.

Both, indeed, had so
entered into the spirit of
the game, and had devoted
themselves with such en-
ergy to the contrivance of
new methods of communi-
cation, that four hours passed rapidly, and
six o'clock found them by the fish market,
well fatigued with their romp. It was time
to return for dinner, but Justin had no idea
of letting the excitement die here. Much to

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MADEMOISELLE PARCHESL

his chagrin, however, the young lady abso-
lutely forbade his accompanying her to the
hotel, and, with a decided gesture, intimated
that he must not even recognize her there.

This was a difficult message to communi-
cate, and she accomplished it only after an
elaborate pantomime, requiring many simu-
lated scenes. She acted out several possi-
bilities, taking his part with clever parody —
where she approved his behavior she ap-
plauded enthusiastically, clapping her hands
high in the air ; where she made him com-
mit an indiscretion she stamped her foot
pettishly, and hissed her condemnation of
his r6le. In this manner she succeeded in
laying out the course of action he was to
follow, and he was given to understand that
her dvjenna was all but an ogress, and that
even his by-play in the mirror would bring
about the most unpleasant consequences.

She agreed to come down to the beach
every afternoon without fail, and in the
mornings as well, whenever she was given
the opportunity. Justin, however, must ask
neither her name, residence, nor age, and
he must never— ^/aTTiaw— try to find out.
She liked him, yes, she liked him very much
— especially his hair, which was dangerously
curly — and if he were good, she would give
him a photograph to put in his watch, though
she insinuated with a fluttering finger that
it would not stay there long. They were to
be good friends for three days, if he obeyed
her wishes; after that— an affected little
shrug of her shoulders, a glance upward,
and a handkerchief held to very dry brown
eyes> intimated her despair. All this in the
most fascinating play-acting, distracting in
the extreme.

This was the beginning of a thtee-days'
comradeship, half child's play and half flir-
tation, more piquantly amusing than anything
Justin Sturgis had ever before attempted.
Mademoiselle Parchesi was ready for any
entertainment he might suggest, lithe-limbed
and graceful, delighting in constant action,
and swept at times by a gale of merriment
for which he could discover no reason.

They got on, for the most part, by means
of the language of signs that they had first
adopted, and which they added to, more and
more, every time they met, by the accept-
ance of significant conventions, instinctive
as the motions of savages or deaf mutes.
The few words common to both French and
English, such as h6teU train, diner, chocolat,
posUy tkegraphe, photographie, lettre, voyage,
and so forth, they found very convenient,
and by these they avoided the necessity of

many a long rehearsal in pantomime. As a
last resort Justin would sometimes refer to
his French-English, English-French diction-
ary, but this came to be understood as un-
fair and against the rules of the game they
were playing ; and the girl would vigorously
protest against the consultation. Justin's
note-book played a good part, too, in their
interviews, and before he left her it was
completely filled with their almost impossible
sketches.

All this did well enough for the simpler
conditions of their friendship, but Justin's
increasing admiration for his playfellow en-
gendered many ideas too abstract for this
limited means of communication, even when
he wished to confess his thoughts. He re-
volted occasionally against the obstacle of
his ignorance, which shut him out of her
thoughts, as by an insurmountable wall, and
at these times he relieved his mind with a
few sharp sentences in English, expressing
himself with a force he might not have dared
use had he thought he were understood. At
other times, however, this very barrier gave
him protection, and the belief in his com-
rade's ignorance of English emboldened him
to speak naively with immense candor, break-
ing out into fearless phrases of whimsical ex-
postulation, speculation, or open compliment.

'* You're the most delicious sort of a
gamin," he would say, '* a new kind to me
— I don't know just where to place you. . . .
I wonder how many of the girls I know would
stand the test of not being allowed to talk
for three whole days! ... If you wiild
speak English, I wonder what you'd say!
You'd probably bore me to death, or else in-
sist on talking personalities. . . . What
sort of funny things would come out of that
funny face ? . . . It's always a surprise to
me when people appear to like me, but I'm
pretty sure you really do, or you wouldn't
take so much trouble to come down here
with me. . . . Perhaps it's only the nov-
elty of the thing, though. . . . I'm sure
I wouldn't get tired of you, though, for a
long time. ... I suppose, now, you think
you dress well, but you don't. You oughtn't
to wear red. You ought to wear blue. . . .
You've got such a funny mouth— but it's
a good, generous one. ... I wonder if
you blackened your eyebrows this morn-
ing?..."

Mademoiselle Parchesi schooled herself
assiduously ; when he talked she paid close
attention, and always laughed as if she was
sure he was sajring something amusing. In
fact, it seemed to Justin th^ she laughed

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MADEMOISELLE PARCHESL

499

more at his remarks, seri-
ously as they were spoken,
than at her own, which, by
the token of her expres-
sion, must have been de-
cidedly witty. She at-
tempted a little English
occasionally, mouthing the
words very prettily, witli
a French accent, but
sometimes she would also
speak her mind, and de-
liver a few rapid incom-
prehensible sen-
tences quite delib-
erately, looking
at him through
half-closed lids,
and smiling as
she turned away.
Her eyes wrinkled
pleasantly as she
did this, aad her
mouth was apt to
become unman-
ageable, while her
eyebrows went up
and down — what
Mademoiselle Par-
chesi was thinking
of, Justin would
have given a good
deal to know.

The tender meeting the '* Obdam " was to
leave the jetty at eight o'clock Saturday
evening ; that afternoon, therefore, was the
last time that the two could meet, and the
three hours on the beach below the Boule-
vard were well filled with their sports and
nonsense. It seemed rather cruel to Justin
that such an experience as this new friend-
ship should come to an end without some
trace of regret on the part of his new-made
friend, but nothing he could do succeeded
in drawing from Mademoiselle Parchesi any
expression of concern at the approaching
separation, and she obviously parried his ad-
vances in this direction. This hurt him a
good deal. It was inconsistent with the esti-
mate he had formed of her character to be
so unfeeling, for she had always been frank
and sympathetic before, in all their meet-
ings.

He threw off this feeling of disappoint-
ment as well as he could, nevertheless, and
determined to make the best of this last op-
portunity of seeing her. He had had three
days of unconventional, almost primitive,
comradeship with her, happily without a

" It 1MM enough for Justin to ait and irateh her legerdemain.**

hint of discord. He would not spoil that
now by a disagreement. He was very glad
to have been able to know her, even for this
short interval. He had no hope of ever see-
ing her again, and so he gave himself up to
the pleasure of this last time.

They walked up the beach more quietly
than usual, and by five o'clock reached the
place where they had first met. The shore
was deserted, and they sat down together,
with a little embarrassment, the tension of
their approaching farewell asserting itself
in spite of Mademoiselle Parchesi's nervous
attempts at raillery. These she gave up
after a while, and sat quietly gazing at the
sea.

Justin looked at the girl narrowly and
wondered what was behind her silence. It
was some time before he could pull himself
together enough to say good-bye, and then
the old difficulty confronted him; the bar-
rier of language, nevei so exasperating,
never so insurmountable as now, alone with
her in the gathering dusk of sky and sea —
for the last time. Again the temptation to
free his mind was too great to be resisted. ^

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500

MADEMOISELLE PARCHESL

**1 can't stand it! I won't stand it!''
he said. ** The idea of being here with a
girl like you, whom I shall probably never
see again in my life, and not able to talk to
you ! By Jove, I will talk to you, whether
you understand or not! You're my kind;
we are of the same caste. I know it by
every gesture you make. There ought to
be a universal language for people like us.
I ought to be able to understand what you
say, if you spoke Arabic, on a day like this !
And I could make myself worth your while,
I'm sure of that — I feel remarkably inter-
esting, and I'm not afraid to tell the truth
about either myself or you. But what's the
use ? You're a mummy — you're a ghost
— you're deaf and dumb! Grrrr!^* He
growled the last ejaculation of dissatisfac-
tion through clenched teeth.

Mademoiselle Parchesi certainly did not
look like either a ghost, a mummy, or a
deaf-mute, for she sat up straight, clapped
her hands and cried, *^ Encore! encore!**
laughing nervously.

It seemed foolish to Justin to go on so,
talking to himself in this ridiculous way, but
there was something in the girl's attention
that encouraged him, he hardly knew why.
More than this, a finer sense of the humor-
ous possibilities of the case awakened in him.
He went on with his monologue, speaking
more to himself than to her..

'* I'd like to know who you are! I don't
mean your name and residence, but who you
really are — who you are to me, and what it
means, my meeting you like this! "

Mademoiselle Parchesi did not attempt to
reply, but sat back, watching his profile out-
lined against the sky. She seemed more
serious than she had ever seemed before,
more serious even than the occasion de-
manded. She no longer said, ** Vat ees
eet ? " in broken English. Her hands were
tightly clasped together, and her teeth were
set on her lower lip. Justin gazed at her
as if she were a portrait.

** You've got such a funny face," he con-
tinued. ** You're not a bit pretty, but
you've got what not one woman in ten has,
and that's a personality. No one would
ever forget you ! There's something in be-
hind your face that turns the lights up and
down, and sets off red and green fire, and
stage-manages your whole expression. Let
me see your hand! " and he reached for it
assuredly.

She gave it him a little reluctantly, and
he inspected it at his leisure. '' H'm ! " he
murmured, in a manner that palmists use.

** What a headline! You're in no danger
from that two inches of heart. . . . You'll
live to be eighty-six years old. . . . Yes,
you'll be married. . . . How would you
like to be married — to me ? "

Mademoiselle Parchesi's hand curled al-
most imperceptibly, but Justin did not re-
lease it. He turned it over, felt of the
phalanges, tested the density of the flesh
and the smoothness of the skin. There were
little pads on the end of her fingers, where
the tactile nerves were concentrated. These
he pinched softly.

** These fool palmistry books give you a
sort of map with little mountains and gulfs
and rivers and peninsulas to guide one in
exploring the human hand, but they don't
help one much about a person' s climate and
meteorology — storms and winds and tides
and currents and all that. It's all that
that I'd like to know. I wonder what sort
of a friend you'd be. I wonder how you'd
wear, and if I'd get tired of you, or you of
me!"

There is no word for * * wonder ' ' in French ;
if there were. Mademoiselle Parchesi might
have used it then, also, for she looked up
suddenly as if to speak, and her eyes were
full of a message she was trying to find the
courage to say. But she looked down again
passively and reclaaped her hands, saying,
'* Encore! " under her breath.

" I suppose," said Justin through his teeth,
'' if I were a certain sort of man, I would
try to kiss you now, and if you were a dif-
ferent sort of girl, you would let me, after
more or less stage business. Here's a mue-
en-scine appropriate enough for any sort of
a flirtation. I wonder if I am that sort of
man."

He rose and paced up and down the sand
a few moments, thinking over the situation
so intently that he was almost oblivious of
the girl's presence. In her manner a few
hints had begun to trouble him with a sug-
gestion that, at first, he could not deter-
mine. He turned to her and saw that she
was watching him intently. She had drawn
on her cape as if preparing to leave. He
went up to her quickly, with a flash of in-
tuition, and standing still, said, deliberately,
** I believe I wUl kiss you, and see what
good that will do!"

He had made no suggestive motion, but
as soon as the words had left his mouth
Mademoiselle Parchesi started up and took a
step away from him, and stood in an atti-
tude of defense. Her face had gone scar-
let, and her hands were raised to her breast.

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MADEMOISELLE PARCHESL

601

With a rapid gesture
he seized her by both
arms and looked her
straight in the eyes.
''You speak English!"
he cried, angrily.
'* You have understood
every word I have
said from the very be-
ginning, and you've de-
liberately let me go on,
talking like a fool.
You've tricked me,
and you ought to be
ashamed of yourself ! ' '
Then with a toss of his
head he left her stand-
ing there, her hands
covering her face, and
walked away.

What had he said to
her ? Nothing of con-
sequence perhaps,
nothing at least he was
ashamed of, but the
feeling that he had
been played with and
led on for so long a
time aroused a lively
resentment. How stu-
pid he had been not to
have suspected her !
But it had not entered
his mind to doubt the
girl after her first
words. Her face had
told him nothing of her
nationality ; she was
only herself. Mademoi-
selle Parchesi, his
three-days' friend— it
seemed like three
months ! The recollec-
tion of her original es-
capades softened him,
and a saving sense of
humor came to her
rescue, overthrowing
all his annoyance. Cer-
tainly she had been as
clever as he had been
dull, and in a few
moments he had acknowledged it to him-
self.

There was a rustling of silk skirts behind
him, and he had but time to resume his mask
of resentment when a hand was laid on his

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arm.

I'm very sorry ! " Mademoiselle Parchesi

With a rapid geMurt he neized her by both armn.**

was saying, very softly; '* I am ashamed of
myself, and I apologize."

She looked up at him shyly through a lit-
tle dew of tears. ** But it was so funny, it
was so terribly funny! I tried to tell you
so many, many times, really I did, but you
were so awfully sure 1 was French ; I couldn'tp

502

SIR HENRY MORGAN AND ffIS BUCCANEERS.

help going on with the joke ! And when you
began saying things you really meant, so
frankly, I couldn't resist the temptation to
let you go on, though I knew I was no bet-
ter than an eavesdropper. I've been in Paris
for three years at a French pension, and it's
so long since I've had any one say real things
to me. You were so perfectly dear and
genuine and absurd, and I was afraid you'd
stop it all if you thought I understood. I
have never heard a man really talk to him-
self before, and it fascinated me. I under-
stood what you meant, all the time, I'm sure
I did, but now you'll think I'm a horrid lit-
tle minx! But I don't care, it was terrible
funny! Wasn't it?"

They laughed together as the/ had laughed
when they first met. *' I'll forgive you,"

Justin said, as they turned down the beach,
** if you'll tell me whether I am to consider
all this an episode or an event."

** You're going to leave to-night for New
York in the *Obdam,' aren't you?" she
said.

**Yes, of course; and I thought it was
cruel of you not to be sorry to say good-
by."

'* Well," said Mademoiselle Parchesi,
punching little holes in the smooth, wet
sand with the end of her red silk parasol,
'* as long as I'm going in the ' Obdam,' too,
perhaps this affair is only an Episode. But,
considering that I've met a man who has
told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing
but the truth for three whole days, I think
it ought to be regarded as an Event."

SIR HENRY MORGAN AND MIS BUCCANEERS.

By Cyrus Townsend Brady,

Anthor of *' For Love of Country," " For the Freedom of the Sea," *' The Grip of Honor," " Stephen Docator," etc.

THIS is a tale of a few of the exploits of
the greatest and worst of the bucca-
neers. Li ke * * Taffy, ' ' Morgan was a Welsh-
man. The parallelism may be carried fur-
ther with accuracy, for he was also a thief,
but there it stops. *' Taffy " was an angel
of light beside Morgan. Like the first con-
spicuous bearer of his name, Sir Henry was
a heretic— from the Spanish standpoint. He
was born the son of poor but honest parents,
farmers in Wales, about 1637. At an early
age he ran away to sea, bound himself out
as an indentured servant, and sailed for the
New World. He faithfully served his time,
and then cast about to see what fields of ac-
tion were open for a young gentleman of
limited education, entire unscrupulousness,
abundant courage, and overweening ambition,
and decided to join the ancient and success-
ful army of "tanners," otherwise bucca-
neers.

Bartholomew, Portuguese, L'Olonnois, and
Mansvelt had already made a name for them-
selves when Morgan rose to unenviable emi-
nence and surpassed them all. With a force
of twf^lve small vessels he sacked the town
of Puerto Principe, Cuba, from which his
party gleaned considerable profit, just enough
to whet their appetites for more ! Not that
their appetites needed much whetting, for
of all the examples of insatiable rapacity.

the ** brethren of the coast" bear the
palm.

After the raid on Puerto Principe, with
nine small vessels and 450 men he assaulted
and captured the important city of Puerto
Bello in the spring of 1668, acquiring a
booty amounting to over 250,000 pieces of
eight (Spanish dollars), beside rare mer-
chandise of prodigious value. Among the
trophies of the expedition was a beautiful
emerald ring sent to Morgan by De Guzman,
the Governor of Panama, by way of expe-
diting the buccaneer's departure from Costa
Rica, perhaps!

The ill-got gains of the pirates soon van-
ished, and they were ripe for another under-
taking. Blarly in 1669, Morgan, who was
rising in fame and importance, assembled
fifteen vessels and 800 men. With this
force he sacked the wealthy cities of Mara-
caibo and Gibraltar in Venezuela, burned or
captured an overwhelming squadron of Span-
ish war vessels sent to intercept him, and
by brilliant and daring strategy carried his
fleet past a powerful blockading fort with-
out the loss of a ship. The booty was even
greater than that taken from Puerto Bello,

Encouraged by these successes, Morgan
organized another expedition, which, from
its magnitude and audacity, threw his other
adventures into the background. He was

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SIR HENRY MORGAN AND HIS BUCCANEERS,

503

the King of the Buccaneers now, and he had
only to lift his hand to find himself sur-
rounded by the cream of the ferocious so-
ciety. Word was swiftly passed from mouth
to mouth in every drinking place, brothel.

The flag-ship was the ** Flying Stag," a
ship of thirty-six guns, which had been sent
by the Governor of Jamaica. It was gravely
alleged that Morgan issued commissions to
his principal oflicers in the name of the Gov-

WITH STRANGE OATHS AND DEEP POTATIONS THEY DRANK SUCCESS TO THEIR ENTERPRISE/

and purlieu of the wicked cities of the Carib-
bean, that he was about to take the sea once
more, and that there would be rich pickings
for bold men under his command. Morgan
himself wrote letters to the principal scoun-
drels of his acquaintance from Tortuga to
St. Kitts. A rendezvous was appointed at
Port Couillon, on the south side of Hispaniola,
as usual.

His previous successes and the glowing ac-
counts of the royal times they had enjoyed,
which had been spread about by all the swag-
gering pirates among their detestable kin-
folk and acquaintances, caused the greatest
numbers to flock to the rendezvous. Morgan
carefully scrutinized the various applicants,
and by a process of natural selection se-
cured such a body of desperate, hardened,
ferocious, courageous ruffians as probably
had never been assembled before or since.

ernor and King Charles II. , guaranteeing them
from all the effects of Spanish hostility.
On October 24, 1670, twenty-four vessels
had assembled at the rendezvous. After
some predatory expeditions to secure sup-
plies, the squadron set sail for Cape Tiburon,
to take in food and water. Here Morgan
was joined by several ships from the thrifty
coasts of New England, which had been re-
fitted and commissioned at Jamaica. The
combined fleet now numbered thirty-seven
vessels of various sizes, manned by 2,200
human tigers.

Contrary to custom, he took counsel with
his principal officers to consider the best
point of attack. They wavered between
Panama, Carthagena, and Vera Cruz; the de-
termining factor being not so much which
was the easiest, but which was the richest.
The decision finally feU .japon Panama. ^I^

604

SIR HENRY MORGAN AND HIS BUCCANEERS,

have no doubt that De Guzman's emerald,
which he still wore, influenced Morgan to
this decision.

We can imagine how the hearts of these
buccaneers beat with anticipation, how their
eyes gleamed with lust and cupidity, as in
the cabin of the ** Plying Stag," with strange
oaths and deep potations, they drank success
to their enterprise, the most diflScult thing
ever attempted before or after by the famous
brethren of the coast.

Before they could proceed to Panama it
was necessary to capture the fort at the
mouth of the Chagres River. Morgan and
the bulk of his command remained at St.
Catherine's, employed in preparation for
their enterprise, while five ships and 400
men under the command of Bradley, a fa-
mous buccaneer, were sent forward to seize
the castle. Morgan was to follow with the
rest after eight days.

The castle of St. Lawrence was built on
a high mountain of the same name at the
mouth of the river. It was surrounded by
strong wooden palisades banked on the inside
with mounds of earth. There were four
bastions toward the land and two toward the
sea. The land side sloped down to a gentle
valley, the sea face was precipitous and un-
scalable. The top of the mountain was di-
vided in two parts by a ditch thirty feet deep.
At the foot of the hill was an eight-gun fort
and two batteries of six guns, all command-
ing the river. As usual, the buccaneers
landed some distance away from the point of
attack, and marched through a wood which
was so thick that they had to hew out a way
with axes and cutlasses. They finally reached
a hill which commanded the castle, but, as
they were without cannon and beyond musket
range, their position was of no value.

They then descended the hill, avoiding the
river forts, crawled across the open on their
hands and knees to escape the dreadful fire
which the Spaniards and their Indian aux-
iliaries poured upon them, which killed and
wounded many of them, and then, sword in
hand, swarmed up the steep sides of the hill
and strove to climb the palisades. Many
were shot down before they reached the
rampart, where they enjoyed a certain im-
munity, for the most expert shots among
the pirates, who had been stationed under
cover, picked off every Spaniard who showed
his head in an embrasure.

The fight dragged on until evening, when
the buccaneers, having in vain tried to fire
the palisades, retreat^ down the hill in the
dusk in great disorder, having lost heavily.

They carried their wounded with them. Brad-
ley had both legs broken by a cannon shot,
but his spirit was still undaunted. A steady
exchange of musketry was kept up during
the evening until night fell, when they made
another assault.

Taking advantage of the darkness, a strong
party crept up to the palisades. At the
same time a body of French were detailed
to climb the path upon another side and
make a diversion. One of the Frenchmen
was pierced in the shoulder with an arrow.
Hastily tearing the dart from his quivering
flesh, he took a handful of wild cotton which
he kept in his pouch for lint, wound it around
the arrow, and then, extracting the bullet
from his musket, substituted the arrow for
it. He took careful aim at the castle roof
and discharged his piece. The arrow lighted
on some dry thatch. The cotton caught fire
from the discharge. It smoldered a mo-
ment or two upon the thatch, and then broke
into a bright flame. There was soon a roar-
ing blaze on the roof of the castle. Other
buccaneers picked up the Indian arrows and
repeated the experiment. Flames broke
out on every side, and finally a barrel of
powder blew up in a bastion, causing great
damage.

With fierce cries of victory, the buccaneers
rushed to the attack. The poor Spaniards
were in a dreadful dilemma. Their situa-
tion was desperate indeed. Their forts and
houses were burning behind them, and their
foes were clamoring at the palisades. If
they left the ramparts for a moment they
would be slaughtered by the foe; if they
could not check the flames they would be
equally lost. They fought on, however,
with the gallantry of their proud race. Their
bodies, outlined against the bright light, pre-
sented a fair target for the pirate sharp-
shooters, while the latter were invisible in
the darkness. While the palisades held, the
Spaniards made good their defense, but as
the night wore on the buccaneers succeeded
in setting fire to the palisades. When morn-
ing broke, the wooden walls had been burned
down and the earthen ramparts had fallen in
great heaps. Pouring a tremendous mus-
ketry fire upon the now undefended place,
shooting down man after man at the guns,
which stood in the open, about noon they
advanced to the storm. They passed the
ditch by climbing on each other's shoulders.
The Spaniards rallied around their governor
and defended themselves with the courage
of despair. It was a hand-to-hand struggle
of the most dreadful description. _Rampart

SIR HENRY MORGAN AND HIS BUCCANEERS.

505

Indians. Over

200 of the buc-
caneers had been
killed or wounded. It was

as bold an attack and as
desperate a defense as was
ever made.

The courage of the buc-
caneers was beyond de-
scription. One of the sur-
geons has left on record an
incident which shows the
fortitude and fury of these
pirates. A man who had
been pierced in the eye by
an Indian arrow came to
the doctor to have it taken
out. The surgeon shrank
from the operation, know-
ing the intense pain it would
involve. As he hesitated, with a
curse the man tore it out of his eye
with his own hand, and binding around
his head a piece of rag ripped from
his shirt, he rushed forward to the
assault once more.
A few days after, Morgan arrived with the
main body. Great was the joy of the buc-
caneers when they saw the royal flag of Eng-
land floating over the ruined fort. In their
eagerness to make the harbor, several ships
were wrecked on the rocky reef at the mouth

after rampart was
taken by the resistless
valor of the pirates,
and the defenders
finally fought from
room to room in the
castle, making a last
stand in the guard- room, when
the governor, sternly refusing
to surrender, was shot dead.

When the buccaneers finally
overbore resistance, and broke
down the last brave defense by
sheer weight of numbers, they
captured but fourteen men,
whom they rendered helpless by
tearing their weapons from
their hands. Many of the
Spaniards, disdaining surrender,
leaped over the cliff into the sea. The four-
teen captives and nine or ten too desperately
wounded to move, were all that were left of
some 350 men in the garrison, not counting

"ABOUT NOON THEY ADVANCED TO THE STORM.

of the river, including the famous ** Flyii^
Stag." The crews "^tilf" provisions <*r

506

SIR HENRY MORGAN AND HIS BUCCANEERS.

saved, and but for a ** Norther " which
swooped down upon them, the ships might
have been saved. The remainder of the
ships safely entered the liarbor and the fort
was rebuilt and garrisoned.

On January 18, 1669, the buccaneers set
out with 1,300 men in canoes and small
boats toward Panama. The great loss at
the mouth of the Chagres, and the wreck of
the ships filled some of the superstitious
sailors with foreboding, but they were jeered
and laughed at by the majority of the ruf-
fians, and under the threat of being left be-
hind they fell in with the rest. This was the
cheer with which they began their march :
** Long live the King of England, and long
live Harry Morgan!" A nice collocation
that!

For four days they toiled along the river,
some in canoes and boats, and some on the
banks. Their provisions speedily gave out
and their hardships began. The country
was a wilderness. They met no one. The
villages they passed through had been de-
nuded of everything edible and abandoned.
They were forced to subsist upon roots,
leaves, and grasses. In the absence of any
proper equipment for any land campaigning,
they were compelled to sleep on the ground
in the damp, chilly, unhealthy tropic nights;
consequently many fell ill. Their clothing
was soon torn to rags by the impenetrable
forests through which they were forced to
make their toilsome way. On the fourth
day they came upon an intrenchment, at
which they rushed to the attack, sword in
hand, but when they climbed over the ram-
parts they found it had been abandoned like
the rest. There were a large number of old
leather bags* in the place. They cut them
into pieces, soaked, them in water, beat them
soft between two stones, scraped the hair off
with their knives, and roasted them by the
fire. When cooked sufficiently, they cut each
piece into small cubes and swallowed them.
A poor substitute for food they found it.

On the fifth day, at a plantation at Bar-
bacoa, they found several bags of flour, some
jars of wine and bunches of plantains
in a cave, which, by Morgan's orders, were
divided among the most exhausted of the
men. Some of them were nearly dead from
famine, fatigue, exposure, and illness. The
weaker men were placed in the canoes, and
they resumed the march. On the sixth day
they rested and sent out foraging parties to
gather berries and roots until noon, when
they again started forward. One party, wan-
dering from the way, came to a plantation

and a barn filled with corn. They broke
down the crib and fell upon the maize raven-
ously, eating it raw in their desperate hun-
ger. The rest of the army was notified, and
forgetting discipline and order, swarmed
about the great barn like ants on a hill.
Each man received a small portion. They
had a skirmish that afternoon with some In-
dians, which was of no importance, except
that the men, thinking they were at last in
touch with the Spaniards, with plenty of food
in sight, threw away the maize they had
saved. The Indians fled, and the buccaneers
crossed the river and struggled on. They
were in a state of utter despair, and only
the heroic determination of Morgan kept
them up. The admiral inspirited them by
bribing the guides to tell them that they
would soon be at their goal.

On the seventh day they arrived at a town
called Cruz. As they approached it they
saw, through the thick woods, columns of
smoke rising from every side. Imagining
that this betokened fires from the village
kitchens, they rushed forward with the
eagerness of starvation, only to find that
the Spaniards had evacuated the place, tak-
ing everything eatable with them, and then
h^ set fire to the town. There were a few
stray cats and dogs prowling around the de-
serted streets; the hungry pirates fell upon
them and they were soon killed and eaten.

In the only building at Cruz which had not
been burned they found fifteen jars of Peru-
vian wine. Though Morgan spread a report
that the wine was poisoned, the starving and
desperate men could not refrain from drink-
ing it. Many of them became violently ill
from their excesses. The canoes were now
sent back to join the other boats.

On the morning of the eighth day Morgan
passed his ragged tatterdemalions in review.
He found his force was reduced to 1,100
men. From this number he selected 100 of
the strongest to lead the advance, and then
took up the march again. Late in the even-
ing, while traversing a rocky pass, they were
ambushed by Indians, who killed or wounded
some twenty men by a flight of arrows. The
buccaneers fired blindly into the woods, and
two or three Indians fell from the heights
into the road. One of them was evidently
the chieftain of the party ; a brave man, for
as he lay wounded on the rocks, and one of
the buccaneers made toward him, offering
him quarter, he savagely tried to stab his
whiter — but no less savage— foe. He was
instantly shot down. The Indians broke and
fled after ^^ ' ' *heir leader, and though

sin HEmtY MORGAN AND HIS BUCCANEERS.

507

the buccaneers pursued them and killed sev-
eral, they could not capture any of them.
Meanwhile, a way had been made through
the pass, which 100 resolute men could have
held against an army. The rain beat down
upon them all that night as they lay in the
open without shelter.

The ninth day was a repetition of the
others, a day of hunger, of labor, of de-
spair. That day they saw some Spaniards
for the first time, and although Morgan
offered a reward of 300 crowns for every
prisoner brought in, they did not succeed in
catching any. They still toiled on, however.

heading ever to the southward, and in the
afternoon they climbed a mountain called to
this day El drro de los Bvcaneros, or the
hill of the buccaneers, from the top of which
they saw spread before them the heaving
waters of the great Pacific Ocean. The
sight had been much to Balboa, more to Sir
Francis Drake, it was still more to Morgan
and his men. I have no doubt that the old
" Thalattay** which had risen to the lips of
the Ten Thousand on a similar occasion,
mingled with the shouts of that triumphant
hour.
They descended the mountain that af ter-

THB MEN

HAD NOT HUNTED CATTLE FOR NOTHING IN DAYS GONE BY.

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508

SIR HENRY MORGAN AND HIS BUCCANEERS.

noon and came to a valley filled with horses,
mules, and cows. The ravenous buccaneers
fell upon them like beasts of prey. They
tore huge lumps of flesh from their quiver-
ing bodies while they were still alive, and
scarcely waited to scorch them by the fire in
their frantic hunger. Says a contemporary
observer, ** Covered with blood of the ani-
mals they had slain, they resembled cannibals
rather than Christians." Having satisfied
their appetite with the first full meal they
had enjoyed in ten days, they took up their
march toward the shore. Ascending a lit-
tle eminence just at nightfall, they saw the
church steeples of Panama bright in the
light of the setting sun. Salvos of mus-
ketry and wild cheering rang in the air.
The red flag under which they fought was
unfurled and saluted with blasts of trum-
pets. The camp was then pitched for the
night, the sentries posted with care, and
then, lying on their arms, they sought much-
needed repose, in preparation for the de-
mands of the morrow.

When the buccaneers put themselves in
motion the next morning, the tenth day,
they marched for two hours through pleas-
ant valleys magnificently wooded and diversi-
fied by running brooks and lakes of fresh
water. At last they halted upon the top of
a small hill. Beneath them spread the fair-
est prospect their eyes had ever looked upon.
If Cuba is the Pearl of the Antilles, certainly
Panama was the Gem of the Pacific. The
white city lay before them embowered in
foliage like a ** handful of pearls in a goblet
of emerald." Broad and fertile savannas
extended between them and the town. A
large part of the plain was under cultiva-
tion, and the beach was fringed with planta-
tions shaded by groves of orange and lemon
trees mingled with tall clusters of cocoanut
palms. Beyond the city stretched the broad
expanse of the beautiful Pacific. It was a
picture of peace and contentment, soon to
be replaced by a simulacrum of hell.

The houses and shops of the city were
built chiefly of cedar and stone. There were
at least 7,000 buildings in the town, and the
population numbered about 30,000. The
city was laid out in a handsome and impos-
ing manner with broad streets and plazas.
Within its walls eight monasteries, a lofty
cathedra], many churches, and a splendid
hospital attested the piety and generosity of
the sons of Castile. The largest buildings,
however, were the great warehouses of the
Genoese company, which were tenanted from
time to time by thousands of wretched hu-

man beings torn from their African homes
to be sold into slavery. Out in the harbor,
far away rose the beautiful islands of Tavoga
and Tavogilla.

Here, at stated times, arrived the great
plate fleet laden with treasures from the
mines of Peru, which were exchanged for
the negro slaves and for the produce and
manufacture of the world, for Panama was
the entrepdt for all the trade with the South
Seas. More than 2,000 mules were annually
employed transferring gold and silver alone
to Puerto Bello. It was the strongest, rich-
est, most magnificent city in the New World.
It was protected by walls and forts, one on
the Vera Cruz road mounting no less than
fifty guns. There were 600 soldiers held in re-
serve in the city and the streets were barri-
caded. On the plain between the buccaneers
and the town an army was drawn up. It
comprised four regiments of regular Spanish
infantry, a brigade of splendid cavalry, 2,000
armed citizens, sixty Indians, and some ne-
groes. This formidable array of over 5,000
men, nearly 1,500 of whom were horsemen,
was augmented by a strange auxiliary, con-
sisting of 200 wild and furious Spanish bulls,
which were with difiiculty controlled by In-
dians, negroes, and mounted matadors.

The Spanish soldiers were all brilliantly
uniformed and caparisoned, and made a brave
show in the morning, advancing steadfastly
under the great yellow silken flags of Spain.
The hearts of the buccaneers sank at the
sight of this army before them. The task
seemed beyond their capacity. If they suc-
ceeded in defeating this force they still
would have to deal with the city.

Morgan, by one of his brief fiery speeches,
succeeded in infusing some of his own en-
ergy into the ranks of his ragged, sullen
men, numbering now scarcely more than a
thousand blades. He divided them into three
battalions, sending 200 picked marksmen in
advance as a forlorn hope. When all of his
dispositions had been completed, he pointed
out that they had no option, they must fight
or die. The buccaneers, giving three cheers,
desperately moved down the hill against the
enemy. If ever an army fought with a halter
around its neck, it was this. It was a strug-
gle, not merely for booty and lust, but life.
The thought nerved their arms.

The Spaniards advanced gallantly, the
horsemen leading. Morgan sent his forlorn
hope against them. As the Spanish cavalry
charged, the buccaneers halted in a bit of
marshy ground, into which the horsemen gal-
loped recklessly, only to find themselve^

SIR HENRY MORGAN AND HIS BUCCANEERS.

509

mixed, checked, and thrown into confusion.
The little party poured volley after volley
into the cavalry, which made the most strenu-
*ous efforts to extricate itself and advance.

Meanwhile the Spanish infantry and the
main body of the buccaneers opened fire
upon each other. There was no compari-
son between the marksmanship of the rival
forces. The Spaniards were mowed down
in scores, but kept on bravely. At this junc-
ture, the men in charge of the bulls endeav-
ored to drive them upon the English flank.
The men on Morgan's right had not hunted
cattle for nothing in days gone by. By
clever manoeuvering they succeeded in head-
ing them off, and the maddened animals
rushed through the ranks of the Spanish in-
fantry, trampling them and throwing them
into terrible confusion. A valuable auxiliary
they proved to the pirates.

After two hours of fighting, Morgan so
manoeuvered his men that a gap was opened
in the Spanish lines between the cavalry and
the infantry. Into this gap, with the quick-
ness of a born soldier, he threw a small body
which he held in reserve, at the same time
ordering a general advance which he led in
person. The Spanish line was pierced and
broken. The pirates poured through the
gap and extended themselves on either side.
Taken in reverse, the horsemen were cut to
pieces. Over 600 of them were killed out-
right, a large number wounded, and the re-
mainder were driven in headlong flight from
the field. The forlorn hope which had done
such effectual shooting now turned their
attention to the disheartened Spanish infan-
try. It had been beaten out of all semblance
of organization, and, assailed on two sides,
after a few more volleys and some desultory
firing, the men broke and fled. The buc-
caneers pursued them unrelentingly, giving
no quarter. The field became a scene of in-
discriminate slaughter. The Spaniards were
completely broken and scattered. Morgan
had meanwhile adroitly interposed between
the Spaniards and the city, so that only a
few fugitives gained the walls.

Allowing his men — who were tired out
from hacking, hewing, and slaughtering — but
a short time for rest, for he appreciated the
necessity of giving the Spaniards no time to
recover themselves, Morgan took up his
march for the city. Like a good soldier, he
avoided the fort on the Vera Cruz road, and
approached from the direction of Puerto
Bello. The pirates were met by a smart fire
from the ramparts, but their blood was up
now, and they recked little of works or for-

tifications. They carried the outer works
by storm, and poured into the terror-stricken
city in a resistless horde. The Spaniards
left there made an heroic defense, fighting
from street to street and from house to
house, until they were cut to pieces, but
nothing could stay the onslaught of these
human tigers. Ere sunset they were in com-
plete possession of the city.

Ample warning had been given of the ap-
proach of the buccaneers, and many of the
wealthy citizens, including a large number
of women and children, had fled to the islands
and the surrounding country. They had
taken much treasure with them and con-
cealed much more. In spite of this, how-
ever, the conquerors found themselves in
possession of a vast booty. The Spanish
ofiicials had been confident that the pirates
would be unable to capture the city. They
had trusted in the numbers and valor of
their army, and they had therefore not de-
stroyed and concealed everything, and they
had not entirely depopulated the city. In-
deed, it would have been impossible. Mor-
gan, fearful lest his men should get entirely
out of hand, enjoined them, under .the sever-
est penalties, to drink no wine. They had lost
heavily in their tremendous battle ; probably
not more than 600 able-bodied men remained
to him, and there were naany wounded need-
ing attention. He was fearful lest the Span-
iards, who still greatly outnumbered him,
should rally and overwhelm his little force.
The men were restrained with the greatest
difiiculty.

They had struggled, fought, marched, and
suffered so dreadfully they could scarcely
be made to understand the necessity for fur-
ther restraint in the presence of wine, women,
and treasure lying under their grimy, blood-
stained, lustful, covetous hands. Unable to
defend the town with his little force, Mor-
gan resorted to a desperate expedient. He
himself set fire to a number of the principal
buildings of the city, to placate his men
spreading the report that the Spaniards had
done it. The night was dry and windy, and
the fire got beyond control, burning down
the greater part of the town before it could
be checked.

That night the buccaneers camped under
arms outside the walls. When the fire finally
burnt itself out, Morgan despatched a strong
party to the Chagres River to announce the
victory and see that all went well with the
garrison, and then the victors entered the
trembling city. They fortified the Church
of the TWnity, raised earthworks about p

610

Sm HENRY MORGAN AND HIS BUCCANEERS.

•that night the passions of hell

WERE LET LOOSE.

and mounted all the guns they could crowd
in the plaza. The remainder of the guns on
the walls and the forts were spiked.

Then began the search for treasure. That
night the passions of hell, pent up in their
bosoms, and burning more fiercely from their
unaccustomed restraint, were let loose. The
bright moon from the clear heaven looked
down in all its tender, tropic splendor upon
such a carnival of crime and debauchery as
possibly the world had never seen. The
sacking of a town is a most frightful event,
even when it is done by regular soldiery, but
when the army is made up of men like the
buccaneers, there are added to the scene

touches of horror and atrocities which no
pen can describe. The lust and greed of the
conquerors was proportioned to the difficul-
ties they had undergone in achieving the
conquest. Rapine, murder, plunder, out-
rage, drunkenness, excesses of every kind
filled the night with misery. Neither old
age nor youth, beauty nor innocence, wis-
dom nor folly, good nor evil, were spared.
It is impossible to depict the horrors of the
period . The wounded and the prisoners were
crowded into the churches where they had
so often worshipped, and left to starve or die.
Tortures of every kind which their rude in-
genuity could suggest, were infiicted upon

sin HENRY MORGAN AND HIS BUCCANEERS.

611

helpless victims to make them disclose the
hiding-place of their treasures.

Finally, after utterly raining what was
left of the town, the buccaneers took their
departure on February 24, 1671. They had
a vast amount of precious merchandize, 175
beasts of burden laden with gold, silver, and
jewels alone, and 600 prisoners held for
ransom.

One Spanish woman of surpassing beauty
and heroic soul, who had very bravely
held her honor against Morgan's advances,
was taken with the rest. She sent two
men to friends of her husband to get
her ransom money — 15,000 pieces-of-eight !
They had betrayed their trust and had used
the money to rescue some of their own
friends. When Morgan learned of this fact
he released the woman without ransom, and
treated the messengers with the utmost
ngor. It is the one solitary act of clemency
and mercy which appears in his whole his-
tory. When the party reached the village
of Cruz, Morgan halted until all but a few of
the poor prisoners were redeemed. The false
messengers, by the payment of a prodigious
sum of money, escaped a just retribution for
their treachery. The treasure was unloaded
and embarked in boats and sent down the
river to Barbacoa. There a muster of the buc-
caneers was held, and every one was searched
for concealed booty, Morgan himself setting
an example by submitting to the search.

The band, now almost in a state of revolt,
took up the march and finally reached the
Chagres once more. Morgan and a body of
his favorites, mainly English, were in terror
of their lives. They put a bold front upon
the situation, however, and the day after
their arrival they divided the booty, which
amounted to over $2,000,000, or pieces-of-
eight, in cash, not counting the value of
silk, cloth of gold, arms, and merchandise.
The jewels were sold unfairly, the admiral
and his friends buying the greater part for
a mere song ; beside which, in spite of the
search, Morgan had found means to conceal
an immense treasure in small compass. The
buccaneers were disgusted and infuriated at
the small sum which they individually re-
ceived, and they even proposed to seize Mor-
gan and compel him to disgorge and redivide.
He got wfnd of their intention, however, and
treacherously abandoned the main body by
stealing out of the harbor in his own ship.

He returned to Jamaica, and contrary to
his custom, invested his money, forswore
pirating, and married the daughter of one
of the principal men of the island. His
position was an uneasy one, however, and
it was even rumored among the buccaneers
in the Caribbean that Morgan, fearing for
his life, had determined to take posses-
sion, with a party of congenial spirits, of
the famous island of St. Catherine, and take
up the old trade again. The men, whose
former affection to him was now turned to
bitterest hatred, determined to waylay him
on his voyage and capture him with his wife,
children, and treasure. But before Morgan
could get away a new governor arrived at
Jamaica with a royal order to send Morgan
to England to answer to the complaints of
the King of Spain.

Undoubtedly the reformed pirate did not
find this a hard matter ; possibly some of the
gold, silver, and jewels of Panama found
their way beside the French crowns, into
the coffers of the needy English king, for
Charles H. disgraced knighthood by giving
this dishonored adventurer the royal acco-
lade. Sir Henry Morgan returned to Jamaica
in triumph, where he continued his respect-
able career and rose to positions of promi-
nence. In 1680 the Earl of Carlisle, the
then governor of the island, returned to
England on account of ill-health, and left
Morgan as the deputy governor. The old
buccaneer had his hour. He remembered his
old comrades and the threats they had made
against him, and he used his new-found au-
thority to apprehend them and hang them
without mercy, until the arrival of a new
governor put a stop to his revenge. When
his royal protector, Charles H., died he was
thrown into prison, and of his further fate
nothing is known.

In connection with the story of the suffer-
ings of the Spaniards in Central America
arises a thought of retribution. They had
treated the aborigines of the land with
a cruelty and rapacity which would have
made an Aztec warrior blush. When they
suffered from the cruelty of the buccaneers,
they might look back upon the peaceful pop-
ulations and the smiling land they had de-
stroyed in their lust for gold, and remember
that text of Scripture which sajrs: ''With
what measure ye mete, it shall be measured
to you again."

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THE FIRST HOHflB. HEIGHT, 14 INCHES.^

I/rawH by Charles R. Knight.

U»i/«« »y<«i«u, lyuo, bu the Atnerican Muaenm of Aa/mal Uittor%

THE ANCESTRY OF THE HORSE.

By Frederic A. Lucas.

A FAMILY RECOTII) THAT REACHES BACK ABOUT TWO MILLION

YEARS.

THE American whose ancestors came over
in the ** Mayflower " has a proper pride
in the length of the line of his descent.
The Englishman whose genealogical tree
sprang up at the time of William the Con-
queror has in its eight centuries of growth

♦ The Hyrarothere,or foiir-tfXMl horee, which lived 2,250,000
years at'o, wa» aUmt the ei/.c of the fox.

The form and proportion of the flpure are ba«ed np)on the
BkcU'ton. The nhort mane, tiic tall with hair upon the gldes
alone, and the dark markln^H are conjectural, but are made
intermediate in character Ix'tween thoee of existing hones

still larger occasion for pluming himself on
the antiquity of his family. But the pedi-
gree of even the latter is a thing of yester-
day when compared with that of the horse,
whose family records, according to Profes-
sor Osborn, reach backward for something

and those which we diippoee to have been foand in the early
type* of hoofed animals.

Drawn expressly for McTLi'RB'fl Maoazinb from material
in the Department of Paleontology, American Maseum of
Natural History, and under the direction of Profesaor Henry
F. Osborn.

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THE FOUNDER OF THE FAMILY.

ril3

like 2,000,000 years. And if, as we have
been told, 'Mt is a good thing to have an-
cestors, but sometimes a little hard on
the ancestor," in this instance at least
the founders of the family have every rea-
son to regard their descendants with undis-
guised pride. For the horse family started
in life in a small way, and the first of the
line, the Hyracotherium,* was ** a little ani-
mal no bigger than a fox, and on five f toes
he scampered over Tertiary rocks," in the
age called Eocene, because it was the morn-
ing of life for the great group of mammals
whose culminating point was man. At that
time, western North America was a country
of many lakes, for the most part compara-
tively shallow, around the reedy margins of
which moved a host of animals, quite unlike
those of to-day, and yet foreshadowing them,
the forerunners of the rhinoceros, tapir,
and the horse.

The early horse— we may call him so by
courtesy, although he was then verv far
from being a true horse — was an insignincant
. little creature, apparently far less likely to
succeed in life's race than his bulky com-
petitors, and yet, by making the most of
their opportunities, his descendants have
survived, while most of theirs have dropped
by the wayside ; and finally, by the aid of man,
the horse has become spread over the length
and breadth of the habitable globe.

Now right here it may be asked. How do
we know that the little hyracothere was the
progenitor of the horse, and how can it be
shown that there is any bond of kinship be-
tween him and, for example, the great French
Percheron ? There is only one way in which
we can obtain this knowledge, and but one
method by which the relationship can be
shown, and that is by collecting the fossil
remains of animals long extinct and com-
paring them with the bones of the recent
horse, a branch of science known as Paleon-
tology. It has taken a very long time to
gather the necessary evidence, and it has
taken a vast amount of hard work in our
Western Territories, for '* the country that
is as hot as Hades, watered by stagnant
alkali pools, is almost invariably the richest
in fossils." Likewise it has called for the
expenditure of much time and more patience
to put together some of this petrified evi-

* The man who v^Tites a tnuseiim label or an article on
natural history ia usually taken to task for not using common
names, when the real trouble is that there are no common
names to be used. The people who call for easier names do
not stop to reflect that In very many cases the scientific names
are no harder than others, simply lees familiar, and when
domesticitcd they cease to he hord : witness mommoth, clc-
phnnt, rhinoceros, hippopotamus, giraflFe, boa constrictor,

dence, fragmentary in every sense of the
word, and get it into such shape that it
could be handled by the anatomist. Still,
the work has been done, and, link by link,
the chain has been constructed that unites
the horse of to-day with the horse of very
many yesterdays.

The very first links in this chain are the
remains of the bronze age and those found
among the ruins of the ancient Swiss lake
dwellings; but earlier still than these are
the bones of horses found abundantly in
northern Europe, Asia, and America. The
individual bones and teeth of some of these
horses are scarcely distinguishable from
those of to-day, a fact noted in the name,
Equus fratemtLSy applied to one species; and
when teeth alone are found, it is at times
practically impossible to say whether they
belong to a fossil horse or to a modern ani-
mal. But when enough scattered bones are
gathered to make a fairly complete skeleton,
it becomes evident that the fossil horse had
a proportionately larger head and smaller
feet than his existing relative, and that he
was a little more like an ass or zebra, for
the latter, spite his gay coat, is a near rela-
tive of the lowly ass. Moreover, primitive
man made sketches of the primitive horse,
just as he did of the mammoth, and these
indicate that the horse of those days was
something like an overgrown Shetland pony,
low and heavily built, large-headed and
rough-coated. For the old cave-dwellers of
Europe were intimately acquainted with the
prehistoric horses, using them for food, as
they did almost every animal that fell be-
neath their flint arrows and stone axes. And
if one may judge from the abundance of
bones, the horses must have roamed about
in bands, just as the horses escaped from
civilization roam, or have roamed, over the
pampas of South America and the prairies
of the West.

The horse was just as abundant in North
America in Pleistocene time as in Europe;
but there is no evidence to show that it
was contemporary with early man in North
America, and even were this the case, it is
generally believed that long before the dis-
covery of America the horse had disappeared.
And yet so plentiful and so fresh are his re-
mains, and so much like those of the mus-

which are all eclcntlflc names. If we call our Hyracotherium
a Hyrax beast, it Isn't a name, but a description^ as if one
were to call a horse a one-toed, bushy-tailed, etiume animal
instead of Equut cabaUuSy a name by which he is known the
world over.

+ Four, to be exact ; but we do not wish to-in jure any npr^
of Mr.. Steteon's poem. ^.^^^^^^^ ^^ CjOOglC

514

THE ANCESTRY OF THE HORSE,

0UPP£R; MIOCENE JOQOOOYJ^S, riT

' fT^

LOWER hiOCZNZ I lOOqoOOWS,

LOWER OLIGOCEJVE /^(^a^^^^C^'Rs.-^

_RASAL;EOCENE
Td&6!(5dOYRS.

Si;Pt>OSED TYPE UN'DISCOV-
-ERED .ANCESTOR

PROTDROHIPPUS MESOHIPPUS

VENTICOLUS, COPE BAIRDIU LEIDT

MESOHIPPUS

PR^ESTANS, CX5PE

THE DEVELOPMENT
Drayen erprfalji for McClurk's Maoaxikb fry Bruce Homf all, from tpecimtms in the Department t(f BBUomtotogw*

tang, that the late Professor Cope was wont
to say that it almost seemed as if the horse
might have lingered in Texas until the coming
of the white man. And Sir William Flower
wrote: ** There is a possibility of the ani-
mal having still existed, in a wild state, in
some parts of the continent remote from
that which was first visited by the Spaniards,
where they were certainly unknown. It has
been suggested that the horses which were
found by Cabot in La Plata in 1530 cannot
have been introduced."

Still we have not the least little bit of
positive proof that such was the case, and
although the site of many an ancient Indian
village has been carefully explored, no bones
of the horse have come to light, or if they
have been found, bones of the ox or sheep
were also present to tell that the village was
occupied long after the advent of the whites.
It is also a curious fact that within historic
times there have been no wild horses, in the
true sense of the word, unless indeed those
found on the steppes north of the Sea of

Azof be wild, and this is very doubtful. But
long before the dawn of history the horse
was domesticated in Europe, and Caesar found
the Germans, and even the old Britons, using
war chariots drawn by horses — for the first
use man seems to have made of the horse
was to aid him in killing off his fellow man,
and not until comparatively modem times
was the animal employed in the peaceful arts
of agriculture. The immediate predecessors
of these horses were considerably smaller,
being about the size and build of a pony, but
they were very much like a horse in struc-
ture, save that the teeth were shorter. As
they lived during Pliocene times, they have
been named *' Pliohippus."

Going back into the past a step farther,
though a pretty long step if we reckon by
years, we come upon a number of animals
very much like horses, save for certain cra-
nial peculiarities and the fact that they had
three toes on each foot, while the horse, as
every one knows, has but one toe. Now, if
we glance at the skeleton of a horse, we will

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IN PLIOCENE AND MIOCENE TIMES.

515

HIPPOmERIUM

ISONESUM. COPE

EQUUS EXCELSUS
LEIDY

douus caballu5. qnn.
''domestic morse"

OP THE HORSE.

American Museum of Xaturat HUtory, New York. The e»timate» of time are thote adopted by PrKufetMr Oabom.

see on either side of the cannon bone, in the
same situation as the upper part of the little
toes of the Hippotherium, as these three-
toed horses are called, a long slender bone,
termed by veterinarians the splint bone; and
it requires no anatomical training to see that
the bones in the two animals are the same.
The horse lacks the lower part of his side
toes, that is all, just as man will very prob-
ably some day lack the last bones of his lit-
tle toe. We find an approach to this condi-
tion in some of the hippotheres even, known
as Protohippus, in which the side toes are
quite small, foreshadowing the time when
they shall have disappeared entirely. It may
also be noted here that the splint bones of
the horses of the bronze age are a little
longer than those of existing horses, and
that they are never united with the large
central toe, while nowadays there is some-
thing of a tendency for the three bones to
fuse into one, although part of this tendency
the writer believes to be due to inflammation
set up by the strain of the pulling and haul-

ing the animal is now called upon to do.
Some of these three-toed hippotheres are
not in the direct line of ancestry of the horse,
but are side branches on the family tree, hav-
ing become so highly specialized in certain
directions that no further progress horse-
ward was possible.

Backward still, and the bones we find in
the Miocene strata of the West, belonging
to those ancestors of the horse to which the
name of Mesohippus has been given because
they are midway in time and structure be-
tween the horse of the past and present, tell
us that then all horses were small and that
all had three toes on a foot, while the fore
feet bore even the suggestion of a fourth
toe. From this to our Eocene hyracothere
with four toes is only another long-time
step. We may go even beyond this in time
and structure, and carry back the line of
the horse to animals which only remotely re-
sembled him and had five good toes to a
foot; but while these contained the possi-
bility of a horse, they made no show of it.T

516

THE ANCESTRY OF THE HORSE.

Increase in size and decrease in number
of the toes were not the only changes that
were required to transform the progeny of
the hyracothere into a horse. These are
the most evident > but the increased com-
plexity in the structure of the teeth was
quite as important. The teeth of gnawing
animals have often been compared to a chisel
which is made of a steel plate with soft iron
backing, and the teeth of a horse, or of
other grass-eating animals, are simply an
elaboration of this idea. The hard enamel,
which represents the steel, is set in soft
dentine, which represents the iron, and in
use the dentine wears away the faster of the
two, so that the enamel stands up in ridges,
each tooth becoming, as it is correctly
termed, ** a grinder." In a horse the plates
of enamel form curved, complex, irregular
patterns; but as we go back in time, the
patterns become less and less elaborate, un-
til in the hyracothere, standing at the foot
of the family tree, the teeth are very simple
in structure. Moreover, his teeth were of
limited growth, while those of the horse
grow for a considerable time, thus compen-
sating for the wear to which they are sub-
jected.

We Jiave, then, this direct evidence as to
the genealogy of the horse, that between
the little Eocene hyracothere and the mod-
em horse we can place a series of animals
by which we can pass by gradual stages from
one to the other, and that as we come up-
ward there is an increase in stature, in the
complexity of the teeth, and in the size of
the brain. At the same time, the number of
toes decreases, which tells that the animals
were developing more and more speed ; for
it is a rule that the fewer the toes the faster
the animal : the fastest of birds, the ostrich,
has but two toes, and one of these is mostly
ornamental ; and the fastest of mammals, the
horse, has but one.

All breeders of fancy stock, particularly of
pigeons and poultry, recognize the tendency
of animals to revert to the forms whence
they were derived and reproduce some char-
acter of a distant ancestor ; to " throw back, ' *
as the breeders term it. If now, instead of
reproducing a trait or feature possessed by
some ancestor a score, a hundred, or per-
haps a thousand years ago, there should re-
appear a characteristic of some ancestor that
flourished 100,000 years back, we should
have a seeming abnormality, but really a
case of reversion ; and the more we become
acquainted with the structure of extinct ani-
mals and the development of those now liv-

ing, the better able are we to explain these
apparent abnormalities.

Bearing in mind that the two splint bones
of the horse correspond to the upper por-
tions of the side toes of the Hippotberium
and Mesohippus, it is easy to see that if for
any reason these should develop into toes,
they would make the foot of a modem horse
appear like that of his distant ancestor.
While such a thing rarely happens, yet now
and then nature apparently does attempt to
reproduce a horse's foot after the ancient
pattern, for occasionally we meet with a
horse having, instead of the single toe with
which the average horse is satisfied, one or
possibly two extra toes. Sometimes the toe
is extra in every sense of the word, being a
mere duplication of the central toe; but
sometimes it is an actual development of one
of the splint bones. No less a persona^
than Julius Caesar possessed one of these
polydactyl horses, and the reporters of the
*• Daily Roman " and the " Tiberian Gazette *'
doubtless wrote it up in good journalistic
Latin, for we find the horse described as
having feet that were almost human and as
being looked upon with great awe. While
this is the most celebrated of extra-toed
horses, other and more plebeian individuals
have been much more widely known through
having been exhibited throughout the coun-
try under such titles as ** Clique, the horse
with six feet," "the eight-footed Cuban
horse," and so on ; and possibly some of
these are familiar to readers of this maga-
zine.

So the collateral evidence, though scanty,
bears out the circumstantial proof, derived
from fossil bones, that the horse has devel-
oped from a many-toed ancestor; and the
evidence points toward the little hyracothere
as being that ancestor. It remains only to
show some good reason why this develop-
ment should have taken place or to indicate
the forces by which it was brought about.
We have heard much about'* the survival of
the fittest," a phrase which simply means
that those animals best adapted to their sur-
roundings will survive, while those ill adapted
will perish. But it should be added that it
means also that the animals must be able to
adapt themselves to changes in their environ-
ment, or to change with it. Living beings
cannot stand still indefinitely; they most
progress or perish. And this seems to have
been the cause for the extinction of the
huge quadrupeds that flourished at the time
of the three-toed Miocene horse. They were
adapted to their environment as it was; but

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A PRODUCT OF NATURAL SELECTION.

517

when the Western mountains were thrust
upward, cutting off the moist winds from
the Pacific, ms^ing great changes in the
rainfall and climate to the eastward of the
Rocky Mountains, these big beasts, slow of
foot and dull of brain, could not keep pace
with the change, and their race vanished
from the face of the earth. The day of the

ter. So, too, as the rank rushes gave place
to fine grasses, often browned and withered
beneath the summer's sun, the complex tooth
had an advantage over that of simpler struc-
ture, while the cutting-teeth, so completely
developed in the horse family, enabled their
possessors to crop the grass as closely as
one could do it with scissors. Likewise, up

THE HORSE OP THE PAST AND THE HORSE OF THE PRESENT.

The Eocene four-toed hor»e, ** Protorohtppus renttcolvn,** was fourteen tnche* Lit;!*, fchde the mocfcrii hone, '* EquuM «ata/(iw,** is
fourteen hands high. The small horse was found by Professor Cope in the Wind River Mountains, Wyoming, and is now in the Ameriean
Museum of yatural History, New York.

little hyracothere was at the beginning of
the great series of changes by which the
lake country of the West, with its marshy
flats and rank vegetation, became trans-
formed into dry uplands sparsely clad with
fine grasses. On these dry plains the more
nimble-footed animals would have the ad-
vantage in the struggle for existence ; and
while the four-toed foot would keep its owner
from sinking in soft^ound, he was handi-
capped when it became a question of speed,
for not only is a fleet animal better able to
flee from danger than his slower fellows, but
in time of drouth he can cover the greater
extent of territory in search of food or wa-

to a certain point, the largest, most power-
ful animal will not only conquer, or escape
from, his enemies, but prevail over rivals of
his own kind as well, and thus it came to
pass that those early members of the horse
family who were preeminent in speed and
stature, and harmonized best with their sur-
roundings, outstripped their fellows and
transmitted these qualities to their progeny,
until as a result of long ages of natural selec-
tion there was developed the modem horse.
The rest man has done : the heavy, slow-paced
dray horse, the fleet trotter, the huge Per-
cheron, and the diminutive pony are one and
all the recent products of artificial selection, p

TRUE STORIES FROM THE UNDER-WORLD.

By Josiah Flynt and Francis Walton.
III.— FOUND GUILTY: Or, How the '^Fly Coppers'' Croaked a

WHEN THEIR CORPORATE PrIDE WAS Woi'NDED.

GUK'

With Drawings from Studies op Types in the Rogues' Gallery.

AMONG the graver misfortunes in the Un-
der-World is that of being in the right
in a contest with the Powers that Rule.
When a man adds to this misfortune the
'sheer folly of pressing his right offensively,
the gods have abandoned him. The gods
had abandoned Howard Slifer, even in the
hour of his triumph ; from the first his hu-
miliation was a certainty — the precise time
and manner of it only were left in doubt.

Howard Slifer was a gentleman of the Un-
der-World who allowed it to be generally
known that any one who asked him for a
fight would get it. A sensitive recognition
of the claims of
other people, and
an austere respect
for them, does not
belong to the point
of honor in the Un-
der-World. There
the point of honor
is for the most part
concerned with a
man's recognition
of his own claims,
and with his deter-
mination to have
other people aus-
terely respect them.
And Howard Slifer
was punctiliously
honorable.

He was possessed
of considerable
sums of ready '

money, kept, with
some trifling excep-
tions, in strong-
boxes, the formulas for opening which inva-
riably included a drill and a bit of dynamite.
The trifling exceptions were small matters of
loose coin and broken rolls of bank-notes
which people of fortune, who had had no
previous acquaintance with Mr. Slifer, stood
and delivered to him ** at sight*' and ** on

demand," and, by a solecism in their business
habits, asked no quittance or receipt. His
physique was a patent of nobility in which all
who stood might read a power to levy taxes
and to assure possession of his personal es-
tate wherever he might find it. He was of
that build that led men to follow him with
their eyes, and to speculate upon the amount
of ''punishment" he could take and could
inflict. While they speculated, they re-
spected him greatly.

Captain Brigstock of the Precinct

was not a man, he was a deputy-divinity,
and respected nothing except the arch-depu-
ties, his official su-
periors. Technical-
ly, there were sharp
limitations to his
constitutional pow-
ers over mere mor-
tals ; but in practice,
technical distinc-
tions so seldom ob-
truded themselves
upon his notice that
his sense of them
was apt to become
quite vague. What
the precise occasion
was of his entering
Mr. Slifer's domi-
cile, nobody in the
outer world ever
plucked up courage
to ask him. When
Slifer was asked, he
said that the cap-
tain had dropped in
unofficially, on "pri-
vate business," and added no comment beyond
a malign grin. Therawas an impression in
the outer world that the captain had made his
visit expressly at a time when he knew Mr.
Slifer was not at home, and that Mr. Slifer
had returned unexpectedly. What was cer-
tain is that the captain made his exit from

Howard Slffer.

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FOUND GUILTY,

5)9

the Slifer domicile in anconventional haste,
and that no mention of the incident was ever
made in the public prints. He had reached
the street from a second-story window, »
through which he had backed with such vio-
lence as to bring away the sash. This was
the hour of the haughty Slifer's triumph and
the hour when the gods abandoned the cap-
tain.

Three weeks afterward, there occurred a
manifestation of esprit de corps among the
Powers that Rule which it was not pleasant
to contemplate. Patrolman Hooper, of Cap-
tain Brigstock's precinct, had been murdered
overnight while on duty; and not only in
Brigstock's precinct, but throughout the
city the force was of one mind. It was not
only that an officer on duty is not safe, for
not a man of them was safe; but there was
an element of insujt and effrontery in an
attack upon a patrolman that stirred some-
thing more in his associates than personal
fear. It touched their corporate pride.

'* Somebody's got to croak for this," De-
tective Swinton declared sententiously to a
group of his brother " sleuths." " I don't
care if Hooper was only a Flatty. He was
a copper, and we fly cope have got to send ,
some bloke to the chair for baistin' him.
There's a push o' guns in this town that
thinks Flatties don't count, that there won't
be much of a kick when one of 'em 's keeled
over, an' they'll croak some of us fly cops
before long if we don't learn 'em a lesson.

'' It was a great bull somebody wasn't
croaked for the killin' o' Patrolman Stimson
two years ago. Stimson was a fool right
enough to go up against the gang that did
him, but if one of 'em had croaked for baist-
in' him, Hooper 'ud be alive now. I tell
you, guns are just like kids when it comes
to leamin' 'em anything. If they see 't ye
mean business they'll crawl, but if ye monkey
with 'em, they'll t'row ye down. There's
some that thinks that guns '11 act on the
level with coppers whether they got to or

not. That's rot. 'Course there's some

squarer than others; but I've known all kinds
for twenty-five years, an' I give it to ye
straight, they ain't built to like us. They
•got the same class feelin' 't we have, an' if
we don't croak one of 'em for doin' Hooper,
they'll get so nervy that coppers'U be drop-
pin' in their tracks ey'ry month. They got
to be called down."

The law for the Powers that Prey is : It is
better ninety-nine guiUy men should escape
than that one innocent man should svffer. The
law for the Powers that Rule is : An example

must he made. The Powers that Prey must
suffer as a clan for an offense against the
Powers that Rule. The clan must give up
its offending member, or must stand in un-
certainty and terror of where precisely the
hand of the force will strike. That it will
strike somewhere there must not be the
slightest doubt.

The orders of Captain Brigstock were
laconic, and smacked of his superhuman
authority. He recognized no impossibility
in the case; he spoke with the accent of
omnipotence. He said simply :

'^ Find him: I don't want to hear a word
about difficulties: d — ^n the difficulties: I
want him found."

There were for the moment but the slight-
est indications to go upon. Hooper must
have been struck fi*om behind, must have
turned upon his assailant, and in the scuffle
lost his helmet. At least, he had been
stabbed twice in the back and had received
a heavy downward blow in the temple, from
which his helmet would have saved him. The
mainspring of his watch had been broken;
and the hands marked five minutes past four,
thus determining almost with exactness the
moment he was assaulted. His assailant
had been hurt, and could be traced by blood-
stains to a sheltered doorway half a block
distant, where he had seemingly bound up
his wounds and changed his clothes. A hun-
dred other details were reported, but for
three days these remained, in spite of the
command of deputied omnipotence, the only
ones that were significant. Then came a
statement that a short time before his death
Patrolman Hooper had had difficulty with '
Howard Slifer, and that high words had been
exchanged.

It is said that Slifer attempted to break
away when he found himself safe within the
walls of the station-house in the Pre-
cinct. He was, at all events, soundly clubbed .
before he was locked in his cell. The blows
given were actually measured according to
his powers for taking punishment: it may
be doubted whether Captain Brigstock had
been more thoroughly bruised when he meas-
ured his length in the street. It is perhaps
a chance coincidence that the captain was
present while Slifer was being taught the
power of the law.

The evidence against the prisoner was
worked up with systematic vigor. The nega-
tive evidence, especially, was significant : it
could not be discovered that at the time
Patrolman Hooper was struck down the pris-
oner was not near at hand. /^^ ^ ^^T^
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520

TRUE STORIES FROM THE UNDERWORLD.

Patrolman Gundy, in a misguided moment,
opined that almost at the precise time of
, the murder he had seen the prisoner enter a
house a dozen blocks distant from the scene
of the affair. The outburst of disapproval
with which this statement was received made
Patrolman Gundy uncertain, first about the
time, then about the precise man, and finally
about whether or not he had seen any one.

Patrolman Conard opined that at a quar-
ter to five he had passed a man, who might
be the prisoner, within a block of the scene
of the affair. The captain asked him what
in the name of things unprintable ** his glims
were for," and told him point-blank that any
one not an ass could say whether a man that
he had passed was the prisoner or not. Pa-
trolman Conard became certain that he was
not an ass, and certain that he had passed
the prisoner — that the hour was a quarter
to five, or a quarter to four or to three.

A safe had been blown open in the build-
ing immediately in front of which Patrolman
Hooper's body was found, and the prisoner's
method of collecting the living that the
world owed him was well known. There
were a number of other people who employed
the same method, but that is a matter of
detail. The abandoned clothes were much
too short in the arms and legs for the pris-
oner, and much too small to have been drawn
on over a second suit; but clad in his under-
clothing it was just possible that he could
have squeezed into them, and the less per-
fectly they fitted him the better the disguise.
At the time he was stripped and examined in
his cell he had so many recent wounds that
the only diflBculty was to decide which of
them his captors had not given him.

The indictment before the grand jury was
secured by evidence which, as the news-
papers said, was so ** overwhelmingly con-
vincing" that murder in the first degree
was the only charge permissible. The dis-
. trict attorney publicly complimented the
police on their handling of the case, and de-
clared that never before in his activity as
public prosecutor had he known of a mur-
derer who was not actually seen committing
the crime being brought to the bar of jus-
tice with proof of guilt so thoroughly estab-
lished and ably presented. In an interview
with a representative of the press, he said :
** Captain Brigstock's men have not only
avenged the murder of their brother oflicer,
they have demonstrated afresh the remark-
able ability of the city's police force. It is
no slight matter to protect a city as large as
ours, which in the very nature of things be-

comes a Mecca and Medina for criminals;
and it is gratifying to know that our safety
is looked after by so conscientious a band of
oflScers."

The patrolmen ordered before the grand
jury not only distinctly remembered seeing
Slifer in the near neighborhood of the scene
of the crime soon after it was committed,
but they produced the weapon with which
Hooper had been struck down, and showed
the jury several rolls of bills, taken from
Slifer's pockets, which there was no doubt
were part of the plunder he had secur^ in
the safe robbery. Free to indulge his im-
agination as to how the struggle between
Hooper and Slifer took place, the prosecut-
ing attorney portrayed the villain discovered
by the virtuous Hooper in the act of blowing
open the safe, or in the act of endeavoring
to escape, no matter which. The intellec-
tual and wholly impatfent jury, who had
business of their own which they were not
attending to, saw in their mind's eye the
prosecuting attorney's vivid picture, saw the
villain Slifer blow open the safe, saw him
make his escape, saw the faithful Hooper
attempt to arrest him, saw the struggle,
the blows, the gleam of the knife. Finally,
they saw in private, with eyes not of the
mind, Slifer's mishandled body. To add
force to these specific arguments, Slifer's
record, both as a " peterman" and convict,
was produced, and he was declared to be
one of the most desperate offenders in the
country. There was nothing for the jury to
do but indict him, and he was bound over
till the next term of court.

Francis Pirie and James Schell were two
travelers of the Under- World who had just
returned from Europe to secure fresh let-
ters of credit. They had made the fashion-
able grand tour of the Continent, had * * blown
themselves" at the Monte Carlo '*crib,"
had seen wonderful things in forbidden Paris,
and had come back to ** God's country " to
attend to business until their bank accounts
should permit of another trip abroad . Schell
had suggested while they were in Paris that
they recoup their fortunes on the spot, and
avoid the sea-sickness and miscellaneous lo-
comotion, but Pirie's counsel had prevailed :
and they had arrived in '* God's country"
about three weeks previous to the murder of
Patrolman Hooper.

"There's dough on this side all right,"
Pirie admitted in reply to Schell 's suggestion
that they establish themselves in the French
capital; '* but it ain't our jand^q^ deugh.

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521

I been rubberin' round pretty strong since I
been on this side, an' I'm next to how the
money market stands over here. You re-
member that fellow from Vienna 't I bor-
rowed a hundred from in Rome, an' how he
kept tellin' me to be sure an' return it by
the time I said I would ? Well, he shows
the whole busi-
ness. He was a
nice enough
bloke, an' had the
rocks an' all that,
but he ain't the
kind o' bloke that
let's you an' me
live an' take trips
abroad. When he
figures up his ac-
counts at the end
o' the year, ev'ry-
thing must bal-
ance. He'll have
a whole string o'
items jus' called,
' Man ain't made
o' wood/ but he
knows where
them contribu-
tions went. See ?
Well, it's the
same all over Eu-
rope ; they all got
to know where
and how their
dough went, who

got it, and what they got for it. It 'ud kill
'em to figure up one o' the columns in their
account books, and have to write after it :
* Gone, an' d n me if I know where.'

"They've got dough, but they ain't got

no dough to lose without makin' a of a

beef about it. See what they did with Bid-
well when he made that Bank o' England
touch in the early seventies. Gave him life !
W'y, them Englishmen thinks money is some-
thin' sacred, holy, religious-like. I gamble
a thousand that old bank could be touched
up again for a million or two, but they'd
hang the bloke that done it. It's not like
that on the other side: ev'ry year there's
'just so much dough l3rin' around loose to be
swiped, an' if it ain't swiped it's put down
in the profit column. It's the same kind o'
dough that's lookin' for circulation in poker
games. It wants to keep movin' an' changin'
hands, an' guns is there to give it rope.
See ? It's a kind o' Providence ! "

** An' the coppers is there to make the
gans trouble," retorted Schell. ** It's all

Oxptain Briggtoek,

a drputy-divinity.

»,•

right about the loose dough, but how about
the loose fly copa? I'd rather take my
chanst with ten o' these Rube coppers here
in Paris 'n with one o' the .fly elbows in
York."

*' Aw, everybody's a copper on this side,"
urged Pirie. ** You remember that gun in

Berlin tryin' to
make a get away
after he'd picked
the moll's pocket,
an' how the whole
street sprinted
after him?
That's the way
they do things on
this side — the
crowd is in sym-
pathy with the
copper an' not
with the gun. In
the States they
give a gun a run-
nin' chance, an'
let the copper do
* the chasin'.
That's what's
what an' the way
it ought to be^"

The morning of
the day following
the murder of Pa-
trolman Hooper,
two men were in
earnest conversation in a gaudily furnished
room in an uptown hotel. One lay on the
bed with a bandage around his head; and
from the blood-stains on the clothes it was
evident that he was nursing a wound ; the
other sat at the bedside. The two were
registered on the hotel's books as coming
from Sydney, Australia, and had signed their
names as- Richard Wamperson and Jackson
Mather.

*' You put his light out all right," the
man at the bedside remarked. "They
picked him up croaked."

" Serves the duffer right," mumbled the
invalid. " Anybody been copped out yet ? "
" The * pipers ' say — jes' listen to my fur-
rin eddication !— that the police have pinched
that Michigan bloke, Slifer. We done a bit
with him in Cherry Hill eight years back;
remember? — the bloke 'at made old Brig-
stock take that quick sneak out of his flat
one day. They're going to railroad him for
fair. The * World ' says the police found
the weapon on him, an' the * Journal ' clainr

522

TRUE STORIES FROM THE UNDER-WORLD.

't he had some o' the bank's dough in his
pockets."

** Them newspapers is gettin* real wise.
What a lot they do know ! Seems like a gun
can't do nothin' any more 'thout bein* pinched
for somethin' else!"

This comment was certainly ungrateful,
the invalid not having been pinched of late
for anything. More than that, it was un-
intelligent: the invalid did not understand
the arrangement of things which makes im-
aginative *' news" columns indispensable.

**rd sooner be
pinched for what I
didn't do 'n what I
done ; it riles a bloke's
senses o' justice to be
accused false an'
helps him put up a
front," declared the
other. "But you
kicked in Payree
about ev'rybody bein'
a copper in Europe
an' a gun havin' no
chance ; what do y8u
call the newspapers ^

in this country but
coppers ?"

** Fly ones, ain't
they ? They ain't
copped you an' me;
they're as dead as de
stiffs m the Front
Office!"

**They say Slifer
got away with the full 50,000 because they
only found a few rolls on him. They're
smart, they are ! They think he's made a
plant somewhere."

** Shows you how dead they are. They
know about's much who copped that coin as
Slifer does. Course the police 'a' got to
put up a bluff, an' 'r' glad to pinch any-
body; but you'd think them papers might
take a tumble to themselves once in a
while."

** (Jood job for us 't we wasn't mugged
that time that old Freckleton got 'is glims
on us. Three years ago, ain't it ? "

** Longer 'n that, an' besides, old Freck's
croaked. He's the only man on the force
't knew us."

** Oh, I ain't leary, 1 ain't; but it's pie to
take your constitutional without ev'rybody
rubberin'. Say, I guess I'll take a bit of a
leg-loosener, an' see 'boutbankin' that dough
in Ijondon. That's where we need it in our
business, an' the sooner we get it there the

quicker. We want to mooch soon as you
can stand for the ante! "

** A' right, but don't be long — I'm dead
to the world up here alone. So long."

'* So long."

The night of the beginning of the eighth
week after the murder of Patrolman Hooper,
Francis Pirie and James Schell were sitting
in a fashionable midnight resort in Sixth
Avenue. Pirie should have been at home
and in bed ; almost nny layman could have
told him that he was
gravely ill . He was a
dime-novel specter,
and the flesh had
drawn back on his
bones till they began
to stand out in sharp
angles. The infer-
ence of an outisider
would have been that
he was another of the
victims which the life
in fashionable mid-
night resorts some-
times demands; but
inferences made by
outsiders show their
wit, and not their
knowledge. The only
person present who
really knew what was
what was James
Schell, but he would
not have admitted
There was a look of dis-
gust in his face while he watched the sick-
man reach feebly for his glass.

** It's a wonder you wouldn't take a
bracer. You've been hangin' around these
joints for the last two months, an' I'm
gettin' tired o' lookin' at you. I want to
mooch to the other side. Any one 'ud think
that that copper had hit you with a base-ball
bat, the way you play the baby act. He
jus' gave you a love tap with his mace,
that's all."

** A couple o' love taps like that 'ud 'a'
put out my light then and there," Pirie an-
swered wearily. ** I'm a sick man, Schell."
** Sick nothin'. Why the devil don't you
stay to home if you're sick ? You been fol-
lowin' me about for the last eight weeks like
a cur purp. I never asked you to. Stay to
home an' nurse yourself if you're so knocked
up. I'm agreeable. I'm gettin' badly tirefl
o' hearin' you whine. You don't need to bij
afraid o' me; I «'"'* '""'•^' to knock agains|t

Fi-anciM Pirie.

this even to Pirie.

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FOUND GUILTY.

523

yotr. Nobody'll ever find out from me 't
you an* that flatty couldn't hit it off to-
gether. I can keep as dead about that as
you can. An' 1 ain't goin' to do you out o'
the dough either. You'll get all that's com-
in' to you when we get to London. It's
banked there, an' half of it is your'n. But
I give it to you straight, I'm goin' to give
you the chilly mit if you don't stop doggin'
me round to all these joints."

** You give me the chilly mit! "

Pirie sat upright in his chair with an ob-
vious effort. The
hand of death was
upon the man really,
but he had his grit
with him.

''That's what I
said. You're all right
when you want to be,
but 1 won't stand for
any more o' this
shadowin' me about —
see? What I think
is, you're bug-house."

Merely to acknowl-
edge that he was sick
was a confession
which, in the circum-
stances, it had cost
Pirie more than Schell
realized to make; to
sit at a table with a
man whom he had
looked upon as his
**pal" and hear that
he was ** bug-house " was a challenge which
even his weakened state could not keep from
accepting.

"Take that, you duffer," he hissed be-
tween his teeth, and threw his beer glass
with all his might at Schell's head.

The fight was over before the attendants
could interfere. Schell tried to throw Pirie
to the floor, and Pirie sent a bullet through
his heart. His light went out without a
flicker.

A man lay dying in the hospital ward of

Prison. Captain Brigstock, of

Precinct, sat beside his couch.

** Scheduled to croak, all right — ain't I ?
Raise me up a bit. Cap. Thanks."

'* That's what they call it, Pirie."

'* Well, Cap, I might as well tell you now
as later. You ^ot the wrong bloke in that
Hooper business. Slifer didn't do Hooper.
Give me some more o' that dope there —
quick -I— I — am — dyin'. Lord, but it's a

Jdmet Schfll.

dirty job to die: an' me too — I die bad.
That's why I'm tellin' you."

The stimulant revived him for a moment.
** Say, Cap — mean' Schell — you listenin' ?
— put it on paper, blokey; I'm gettin' kind
o' weak in me tubes: got the pencil there —
me an' Schell, we croaked — gettin' it down ?
— we croaked Hooper ; me in front with a
billy when his helmet dropped off an' him
behind with a knife. That stuff in the papers
was rot. An' Schell, I put his light out,

d n him. He tried to do me out o' the

dough. That's why
I'm here. See?"

Brigstock' s pencil
paused, and Brigstock
himself took it for a
sign of some special
care of Providence
for him that Pirie's
confession had been
made to no one else.
What kind of Provi-
dence would natur-
ally choose him out to
care for, and whether
in highest heaven or
deepest the other
place, he had not lei-
sure at the moment to
inquire.

"Where's the
dough planted?"
Brigstock asked.

The sick man's eye-
lids fluttered open, but
with no recognition of Captain Brigstock or
of his question : there was a great light of
anger and pain in the eyes, and the lips drew
back from the strong, discolored teeth.

" You give me the chilly mit ! " he almost
shouted, half rising in bed. " Take that,
you duffer! " and he flung himself bodily on
Captain Brigstock.

It was quite true that Pirie died bad.
That evening Brigstock in his lodgings
meditated afresh on the special care of Provi-
dence. At the end of his meditations, which
he had assisted by striding up and down the
room, he knelt by the open fire and tore out
and burned certain leaves from his note-
book.

The night of New Year's Day, some ten
months after the murder of Patrolman
Hooper, Howard Slifer sat in his cell in

Prison, and talked through the bars of

the cell door with his ** death watch." The
evidence given at the time of his indictment

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524

HER HUSBAND'S WEAKNESS,

had been repeated with additions at the time
of his trial, and among those additions
the confession of Francis Pirie was not
found.

** You hear what Fm tellin' you, Jackson/'
Slifer said that night. ** I ain't turnin* soft,
an' kickin' 'bout goin' to the chair : not me !
It's up to me to sit in it, that's straight.
An' I've done enough to deserve croakin',
ten times over. But, Jackson, it ain't up

to me to stand for the killin' o' Hooper. • I
didn't do it. 'Course the evidence don't look
that way; an' they think that they've got
me dead to rights, but that jus' shows how
bug-house some o' the things in this world
are> Jackson, if Hooper could get out of
his grave now, he'd .say; ' Slifer didn't do
it.' I don't mind croakin' for anythin' I

done, but I hate like to croak for

somethin' I didn't."

HER HUSBAND'S WEAKNESS.

By Myra Williams Jarrell.

MRS. SANDERS turned her head away
from the bacon she was frying, that
her tears might not fall upon it. It was
not a bitter, scalding down-pour, but only
a faint, despondent drizzle which came from
eyes from which the luster of youth and
hope long since had faded.

** Now, Ma," protested her husband, who
was sitting uneasily on the edge of a chair
with a feeble smile on his face, ** don't take
it so hard; it ain't as though we was starv-
in'. You know, don't you " — with an eager
tremor in his voice — '* that I wouldn't 'a'
done it if we'd really needed the money for
food?"

** 'Tain't no use argying with you. Pa,"
she answered drearily, ** 'cause if you had
some more money to-morrow, and saw some-
thin' pretty 'at you thought me or the chil-
dren would like, you'd get it, even if we
didn't have no shoes nor stockings to our
name."

Presently, the bacon fried to a crisp and
the eggs sizzling in the grease, she glanced
again at her husband. With his round, china-
blue eyes, his ruddy skin, and his tously red
hair, he looked absurdly like a child sitting
there ; and as if he were a child, there was
a quiver about the weak mouth, as if he
strongly felt the weight of her disapproval.

All the instinct of motherhood rose in the
woman ; and going over, she laid a kind hand

on his shoulder and said cheerfully : ** Never
mind. Pa, it w a handsome water service,
and will look real nice on the marble-topped
table 't mother give us when we was mar-
ried."

He brightened up immediately and said:
** I knew 't you'd like it, Mandy, when you
once got over your predjoodice agin sich
things."

She sighed slightly, and began dishing up
the supper. ** Call the children, Pa," she
said. Soon they came trooping in, a healthy,
happy brood of five, all under twelve, with
scarcely a whole garment between them, and
what they had all patched and darned.

There was nothing in the patient mother's
face to show the despair she felt, when,
after the meal, the children were marshalled
by their enthusiastic father in the front room
to view the new possession, a swinging sil-
ver water pitcher with two silver goblets on
a standard. Eagerly he displayed it to their
admiring eyes, and proudly he told how much
it had cost, in his pleasure at their round-
eyed appreciation forgetting the gentle chid-
ing he had received when he first reached
home with it.

After the work was done and the children
in bed, Mrs. Sanders sat down by the kitchen
table with a heap of little clothes beside her
to patch and mend. *' Now tell me. Pa, did
you pay Deacon Jones the int'rest money on

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HER HUSBAND'S WEAKNESS,

525

the mortgage ? " she asked anxiously, after
a silence.

He cleared his throat before he replied :
** Well, no, Mandy, but Til pay .next week.
John Bent's goin' to buy ray heifer, and then
ril give the deacon that money."

'* 1 s'pose, now," she queried, ** you saw
the pitcher before you saw the deacon ? "

''Well, yes. Ma," he chuckled; **but
don't you fret. We'll come out all right.
The wheat crop'll be good if we don't have
too much of a drought — and then I'll buy
you a piano."

**Now, Pa," she protested vehemently,
'* don't be silly; we need all the money we
can get hold of, just to dress and feed the
children and to pay the mortgage."

** I ain't forgot, Mandy Sanders, if you
have, how lovely you used to play the melo-
deon when you was a girl, and we used to
sing together : * Oh, believe me if all those
endearing young charms that I gaze on so
fondly to-day ' "

** I remember," she put in softly, ** and
'tain't as though I don't love music now,
for I do; but you mustn't think of doing
such a thing, Pa, really you mustn't."

** Don't you fret, Ma, just you trust me.
I ain't never failed you yet, hev I ? * Hevn't
I been faithful an' true to you, Mandy ? "

** Yes, Pa," she assented, then added
with some spirit, ** but maybe 'twould be
more to the p'int if you'd 'a' been less faith-
ful an' true an' had had more common sense.
There, there, I didn't mean to hurt you. Pa,
but sometimes when I think o' them little
folks o' mine, I wish't you'd take better
care of your money, and not be so indul-
gent."

** I'm sure I'm doin' the best I can fer all
of you," he muttered sulkily. **I work
hard, and try to please you, and then you
grumble that I don't provide for you." And
he went to bed in an ugly frame of mind.

Mrs. Sanders sat there long after he had
gone to bed, thinking bitterly of her sacri-
fices and economy since her marriage, which
had always been rewarded by just such ex-
travagance as this of to-day.

It was a good farm, not heavily mortgaged ;
and she knew it would pay if there were no
drought, and if only he were not so foolishly
childish about the value of money.

As usual, though, after her bitter reflec-
tions, she upbraided herself for harshness,
as a mother does toward a much-loved child
who has deserved and received discipline,
and she went to bed resolved to be kinder in
her judgments in the future.

The weeks following were ones of depres-
sion. Everything depended upon rain, and
the sky remained blue and unclouded, and
the sun scorching. Even Mr. Sanders' op-
timism deserted him at times, and he took
his defeat like a spoilt child, and became
petulant and irritable.

Whenever Mrs. Sanders looked at the sil-
ver pitcher, her soul rose in revolt against
a man who could spend his little all in such
senseless extravagance, while his children
were nearly naked, and the larder was dimin-
ishing day by day. Every day she went to
the kitchen door and looked off over the
boundless stretch of prairie toward the west-
em horizon, looking for some hopeful sign,
if it were only a cloud no bigger than a
man's hand. But none appeared.

Finally Mr. Sanders sold the heifer, and,
jubilant once more, he started to town to
make some necessary purchases.

** Please be careful. Pa," entreated his
wife; ** you know how doubtful the crop is,
so don't buy anything outside o' this list
I've given you, things we just can't do with-
out, and see Deacon Jones and ask him to
let the int'rest money run a little longer;
he's so good and kind 't I know he will if
you explain how it is."

** Now don't you fret. Ma," was her hus-
band's cheerful response. ** I guess I know
how to manage my own money," and he
drove off, leaving Mrs. Sanders in a dubious
frame of mind.

All through the long, hot day she hummed
a tuneless song over her work, trying to
assure herself that her husband would be
careful and buy only the necessary things. .

As evening drew on, the children gathered
around, and they all sat in the shade of the
little house waiting for his arrival. The
minutes passed, and still he did not come.
Mrs. Sanders shaded her eyes and stood
up to see better. Off toward the setting
sun a cloud was gathering — a tiny cloud,
gradually enlarging, which spoke of renewed
hope.

She looked again toward the road which
led to town, and gave a sigh of relief as she
saw a wagon slowly, slowly crawling toward
them. ** There he is at last," she said to
the children; ** now I'll go in an' see about
supper."

In a few minutes the children called her
excitedly. ** 'Tain't Pa; it's Mr. Bert an'
Mr. Wilson, Ma." She rushed out of the
house, and was met by two downcast, rugged
men, who explained that her husband's team
had run away with him and thrown^hira out.

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526

THE LADY WITH THE WATERFALL.

and that they had brought him home. " Badly
hurt, ma'am," one of the men added ; " seems
as if he ain't goin' to git well."

Tenderly they lifted and carried him into
the house, and laid him on the sofa in the
front room, the awestruck children follow-
ing on tip-toe, and pushing each other to
get a better look at the poor, limp, white
thing which had been their father.

He opened his eyes, and looked around
and smiled feebly at his family, then de-
manded of his neighbors,

** Where's my package ? "

One of them went out to the wagon

and returned with a soiled, crumpled paper
bag.

Mr. Sanders reached for it, and withdraw
from its depths a very flimsy, gaudy, much-
beflowered bonnet, which would have suited
a girl of sixteen, and said, as he handed it
to his wife: ** Here, Mandy, it's for you;
you alius looked so pretty in them kind o*
things when you was a girl. Now don't
you worry. Ma, the Ijord will ''

The sentence was never finished. His
widow fell on her knees beside the sofa^
sobbing and kissing his poor hands, just as
the rain began coming in a steady down-pour

V—* ""k"**' /^

- ^. -T-*^:.* ;.^,'''^'i;3 •-

vi.^.,.k^

THE LADY WITH THE WATERFALL.

A VIRGINIA BEAUTY OF FOKTY YEARS AGO.
By Anita Fitch.

With Pictures by W. Glackens.

TT was in the Forty-second Street Park plainly a stolen spray from a neighboring

that I met and knew her. I had strolled bough — which she held with the grace of

in one early summer morning, and found her one accustomed to bouquets,
seated upon a bench near the reservoir, her She was shabbily dressed, in a ridiculous

delicate old hands filled with leafy green— old fashion of long-ago days; but I knew

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THE LADY WITH THE WATERFALL,

527

that when she was young she had been blonde
and beautiful. Indeed, she was beautiful
still, with her strangely fresh blue eyes, and
that subtle something that defies time (I was
never quite satisfied with my guesses of her
age), like a tall lily that had withered with-
out losing its fragrance. There was, too,
something about her luminously aristocratic,
and a (pracious dignity ; and in spite of her
funny, almost ragged clothes — often not
even over neat, alas! — her faded loveliness
and high-bred manner carried the day, and
I knew myself in the presence of a soul
superior to earthly trifles.

But anything more wonderful than the old
lady's costume I have never beheld off the
stage. It marked an ancient period — the
vast false chignon — the real old-time " water-
fall " — the tiny bonnet, worn well over the
forehead ; the trailing gown, with its frills
and " peplum " — all suggesting the remote
and gilded day of the Grecian Bend. And she
wielded a minute green parasol — the piteous,
darned, and faded ghost of a parasol, still
brave with a pinked frill, and bending mod-
ishly at the handle — with an art that made
one forget that its blooming days were over.

In spite of her setting, grotesque for any
other woman, she made an elegant picture
in walking. She held her skirt straight up-
in front in the old-time way, an airy pinch
between the thumb and forefinger, and kept
a splendid lift of the head and chest; and at
a little distance, when you could not see the
poor makeshifts of poverty, or the shadow,
light though it was. Time had left upon her
beauty, she was like a fair lady upon some
antiquated valentine, who, for a moment,
had stepped from her filigree page to aston-
ish a hurrying world with her sweet, deliber-
ate graces.

I sat down beside her, for I could not re-
sist the temptation, and after a moment we
entered into conversation. It was pleasant,
she remarked, for ladies who had nothing to
do to come and sit in the park in the morn-
ing. I don't remember what followed this
speech, but in a little while I had gathered
from the delicate inflections of her voice
that she was Southern, and that poverty was
no bar to her genteel idleness. She did not
speak of her affairs or of her abiding place,
but prattled daintily of the summer birds,
and of the first spring leaves, and of the
sudden sweet scents that came even to this
flowerless city oasis, *' as if from a hidden
garden."

In time, for I met her many times before
the fatal day that separated us forever, I

grew to know that she was full of these
pretty fancies, and that she saw only the
beautiful side of life; and she could never
have fully realized that her estate in life had
fallen, for she spoke with the easy splendor
of one who still rode in carriages, and took
her airings about her private domain, instead
of upon a wooden bench in a city park.

One day I discovered that my contemptu-
ous view of the other loungers of the spot
awoke in her a pained wonder. They all
knew her by sight ; and from the handsome,
gloomy-looking young man who read an end-
less newspaper upon the next bench, down
to the handless old pencil-woman at the
gate, they greeted her comings and goings
with respectful obeisance.

With the gloomy young man the old lady
had a speaking acquaintance. I had idly
christened him Mr. Roads, eliminating the
current and insulting prefix ** Dusty" out
of consideration for her feelings; and ob-
serving the coquettish grace with which she
thanked him for occasional small services,
that sudden radiation the soft woman has
forever for the betrousered animal, I felt in
her a vast and beautiful tenderness for the
stronger sex, and loved her for the sweet
weakness that had outlived so many years
and cruel changes.

For that my lady with the waterfall had
been a person of consequence in her time,
I did not for a moment doubt. But as time
went on and she spoke no word of that past,
the glorious past I had given her, nor even
honored me with the confidence of her name
or the title of her birth-place, and closed
every loophole for inquiry with a wickedly
stubborn delicacy for my affairs, I confess
to having cherished a mean impatience that
one day burst its bounds in this blatant
fashion :

** I am a Virginian," I said — for no reason
at all that I can now remember — ** and I am
proud of it."

That this would prove a home thrust I did
not for a moment doubt, for I knew my own
Virginia accent too well to be misled in plac-
ing her. But I was unprepared for the
change, like a sudden blight, that fell upon
her joyous being.

'* I am a Virginian, too," she said, after a
moment, in a thin, strange, cold voice I had
never heard before. *' But—-" and one of
her little,, pitiful, elegant hands (the years
had so gently touched it !) went to her throat
with a choking gesture.

Some time in that scented, befrilled long
ago she so faithfully reflected, my sweet old

528

THE LADY WITH THE WATERFALL.

butterfly had received a mortal wound. She
could still smile, but nevermore could she
speak of Virginia ; and so I placed Virginia
upon the shelf of tabooed subjects, along
with death, the mere mention of which gave
her a frozen displeas-
ure, and made a vow
then and there not
even to wonder about
her again if I could
help it.

The waterfall lady
was a delightful com-
panion, and, after
this brief trembling
at the precipice^ our
friendship ran on
smooth tracks, under
blue skies. Every
morning for weeks I
sought her at her
bench, at first invent-
ing excuses for my
going, but at last
going as a matter of
course.

In this way I came
to know her dainty
tastes, and that she
had been educated in
the good old way,
with a little bit of

every ladylike accomplishment, and not too
much of any one. She could sing ; her favor-
ite song was a venerable ballad, much in favor
with young ladies of forty years ago, called
" The Blue Juniata " — she pronounced Mjew-
knee-ah'ta — and she proudly told that she
made her own gowns, which, though always
of the style of the same far back period (for
her Time must have stood still), were of dif-
ferent colors and materials -dark for morn-
ing, light for afternoon— and, with their
comical pretension, were so numerous that I
saw she must have been something of a Lady
Brummel in her day.

But though her gowns were an evident
and dear delight to her, and I could see that
she would not for worlds have parted with
her long topaz '* eardrops," plainly the bulk
of her woman's vanity had been invested in
her waterfall.

It was speakingly false in its blonde fresh-
ness next the rest of her poor, pretty, gray-
streaked hair; but it was always in such im-
maculate condition, the fat puffs so smooth
and glossy and round under the new silken
nets, that I could not believe it was always
the same waterfall. It seemed to me she

must have quite a drawerful of the wonder-
ful things, and I hoped that the hairdresser
with whom she must spend much of her
small substance was moderate in his charge,
for I could not bear to think he mig:ht
take advantage of
her.

One day— if I had
smiled about her be-
fore, how much have
I not sighed since ! —
I stumbled upon the
secret of my old
lady's life. It was
my birthday, and to
celebrate the occa-
sion I had planned a
modest dinner at a

Ifk'^LIL^

A» itstinl, a littU fttubbu attoiit the face ami ntniitter in

simple restaurant
nearby, with my fas-
cinating park ac-.
quaintance as sole
guest.

With this secret
intention — for I con-
temptibly felt that
my invitation must
depend largely upon
MR. ROADS. the lady's costume,

which was sometimes
too picturesque for
even my unconven-
tional taste- -I mentioned only the fact that it
was my birthday, and expressed a desire to see
her again in the park late in the afternoon.
When I arrived at five, she was already at
our bench. And that she had attired her-
self in her bravest finery in my honor, I
could see from the gate.

She advanced to meet me as I entered,
with aii^Jjisses of the hand and merry beck-
onings«f her little green parasol; and — oh,
sweet dead days of ** illusion" and moss-
rose buds ! though one might tremble a lit-
tle for its effect upon the vulgar, uninitiated
mind —never was seen a more gracious vision !
A delicate shimmer of apple-green and yel-
lowed white silk surrounded her in flowing
sleeves, and a voluminous skirt that I knew
had been born to spread its splendors over
a hoop.

With this magnificence a real lace bertha
and all the old-fashioned trinkets she was
never without —the swinging topaz eardrops ;
the thin neck-chain, with its endless array of
charms ; the ring whose vanished gems had
been replaced with sets of red sealing-wax ;
and the hair bracelet upon her beautiful left
wrist.

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THE LADY WITH THE WATERFALL,

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As we met, she brought with her a faint
atmosphere of dead roses and musk and
patchouli.

And then I saw the brown time-spots on
her finery, the heavy creases and straining
seams, for the wasp waist-line of youth was
scarcely sufliciently generous for the pro-
portions of forty years later ; and recognized
with a throb, somehow inexplicably poignant,
that this adorable and sad old frock was no

modern effort, designed after ancient memo-
ries, but precious millinery, preserved by
some tender miracle, that had come straight
down from the distant day it represented.

That my old lady had anticipated my invi-
tation, or some invitation, I could see in an
instant. The glorious toilet was for me;
her whole being radiated a holiday anticipa-
tion. And when, presently, with two kisses
on the cheek and a pleading tenderness, she

'a deucate shimmer op apple-green and yellowed white silk surrounded

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630

THE LADY WITH THE WATERFALL.

pressed a book upon me as a birthday gift, one
of those dear old blue-and-gold ** Friend-
ship's Offerings" read by young ladies in
the 'fifties, I hated myself that I had held my
invitation back at the notion of her costume,
and resolved upon a choicer restaurant, with
as much of a festival as my fortunes would
allow.

She fluttered and flushed with a girlish
excitement as I laid the evening programme
before her. Then, since it was not yet time
for dinner, it was suggested we ** walk up
and down " a moment in the park, exercise
was so good for the appetite; though an
earnest warning followed that we keep watch
upon the hour and not get to the restaarant
too late. We must have a little quiet table
to ourselves so that we could talk, and time
to decorate it with flowers— birthdays were
not birthdays without flowers, and they were
80 cheap on Sixth Avenue.

** Quelle heure est-ily monsieur?'* she in-
quired suddenly of the shabby Mr. Roads, in
her pretty, halting French; it being the
habit of the pair,, who certainly had their
share of lower world realities, to interchange
almost entirely in this glittering language of
courts.

We had stopped at Mr. Roads' s bench,
where, intrenched behind the inevitable news-
paper, sat the gentleman as usual, and as
usual a little stubby about the face and sin-
ister in raiment ; but with this dangerous ex-
ternal leaning toward trampdom gloriously
offset by his look of superb health and comely
youth. His handsome eyes flashed a sulky
pleasure at the old lady's notice, and the
big fellow bounded respectfully to his feet
to answer.

** Oinq heures et demie. No, madame, I
do not think it will rain."

So, with a ** Merely monsieur ,*' that was
as tender as a pat upon his tousled head, off
we set upon our promenade, the lady warn-
ing me in anxious whispers that I was not
to consider him any ordinary sitter upon
benches.

Indeed, Mr. Roads was a young man of
unusual parts, I was given to understand.
But he was at present under a cloud with his
family, his pride was of the fiercest, and she
thought she would offer him a little coaching
with his French.

** It would be so useful for him to speak
it correctly, you know. It might help him
to get a position."

And this when Mr. Roads's French was
almost indecently good, and the old lady
owned a wonderful pronunciation, darlingly

foolish, and tangled her verbs in a way to
tickle the ribald heart with joy !

Up and down the footpath in front of onr
bench we walked for a long time, my com-
panion the object of much wondering admira-
tion. The very glass of antiquated fashion,
she moved in the serene belief of the elegant
fitness of her toilet, a faint tea-rose flush
of triumph outblushing her dust of rouge;
for she painted, she did— hers had been the
day when rouge-pots were no dis^^ce — but
she painted with a sublime discretion.

The closing day lent a softness to her
faded f olderols ; and so tall and gracious and
sweet was she, so singularly slender and
youthful for her age, she had besides a maid-
enly air that convinced me she had never
married.

She confessed, with a momentary droop,
that she had lived long alone in New York.
And with a swelling tenderness, as I listened
to her unworldly prattle, I walked beside her
as proudly as if she were some lovely and
dear relative, one thought holding me with
its growing attractiveness, that after this
intimate and to-be-remembered day we could
no longer be strangers.

And then it was, with my whole being
breathing nothing but tenderness for the
gracious old gentlewoman, not three hoiirs
later, that my ruthless hand tore open afresh
the wound of her life, and thrust her broken
and fearing me — fearing but not hating me ;
oh, no, not hating me ; there was no place
for hate in that flower-sweet soul — thrust
her back into the crushing loneliness that
only too well I know now had been hers ere
we had met.

Alas, why is it that such little things turn
the current for unalterable moments! Why
was it that a foolishly sweet old book and a
stupid girl came together, and, bridging the
desolate years, were the instruments of fate
to break once more a helpless butterfly upon
the wheel ?

It was nine o'clock when the thing hap-
pened. Let me tell it as it was.

We had dined gayly at the brightly lighted
restaurant, and toasted our President and
ourselves with bubbling champagne — her
delicately racy trinquer with me, the ** a
noter santy,'* were sufficient rewards for
the extravagance — and gone back to the park
for a brief airing with almost dancing steps.

During the dinner my blue-and-gold birth-
day book had claimed much of my delighted
attention, and it was with an exquisite ap-
preciation that, over the coffee, I listened to
the old lady's pretty school-girl rendering of

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THE LADY WITH THE WATERFALL,

581

a favorite poem, bearing the stately title of
" Memory's Shrine." I can scarcely tell
why it was, but the sentimental last line of
this poem,

"As I was, remember me,"

fell npon my ear with seductive enchainment.
I felt it would be a quaint dedicatory motto

appeared and I ordered her to write. A
swinging electric globe nearby supplied the
necessary illumination, and by its light 1
could see Mr. Roads, a lonely figure, where
we had left him, upon his bench, as if he had
not dined at all.

** As I waSy remember ttic," I saw my old
lady trace in a delicate, old-fashioned hand-
writing upon the blank leaf of my book

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WE HAD DINED GAYLY/

for my book. And with the notion of any
sort of an inscription — an inscription that
she must write— came the hope that I should
at last learn her name and more about her.
For up to this moment, though we had fore-
gathered at the park near two months now,
and had at last drunk from the loving-cup
of tender friendship, we were still unknown
to each other by title, and her place of resi-
dence was still to me a mystery.

Once back in the haunt that knew us, and
the moment seeming propitious, my pencil

** And now the date, and my name, Kath-
erine Brice/' I commanded quickly, and was
vaguely conscious that under the rim of his
dingy derby hat, tilted villainously forward,
Mr. Roads' s dark eyes were closely observ-
ing our every movement.

She stopped to comment on my name. It
was ** pretty " and suited me; and then un-
derneath it wrote ** from." I waited in a
delicious flutter of speculation as to whether
her own name would suit her as well as every-
thing else about her did, and hoped, with

THE LADY WITH THE WATERFALL,

an inconsequent distaste, that it might not
prove Amelia.

Then I saw her write ** Evelina," and a
shock of recollection went through me.

** Evelina! " I exclaimed, all uncaring of
the fact that her pencil had moved on to
trace another title. * * Evelina ! How curi-
ous!''

For with the suddenness of lightning a
long-closed door had opened in my memory,
and there came back a period of my child-
hood, when, with my impressionable imag-
ination fed by a bitter tale, I was influenced
to fear and abominate an unknown woman
who had borne this old novel-name, and who,
long ere my eyes had seen the light, had
brought woe unto my kindred.

I told her the story, and as I look back
upon it I wonder that I could have been so
blind.

But, to my fanciful picturing, the woman
I had been tought to hate and dread in my
child days had been as dark as devils were,
and clothed in flaming scarlets. Now, with
that childhood and its influences all behind
me, with the story almost forgot for want
of telling, I still saw her the same. How
waslto know that this fair, blonde old woman,
so exquisitely tender for all, was the same
cruel Evelina Drury for whose cold sake my
mother's dearest brother, Ernest Hamilton,
had fought a duel and perished, forty years
before, in far-off Virginia ?

I forgot that she herself was Virginian,
that she had a secret of her own, and that
death was a tabooed subject.

I forgot everything but that I had a good
story to tell, and that of all New York, per-
haps, she was the one listener who could
best appreciate it. For 1 knew that she
must have been of the pompous time of my
Uncle Ernest, when a Southern gentleman's
ruffled dignity could only be smoothed by
blood, and a duel before breakfast was
scarcely a more remarkable occurrence than
a canter on horseback. So I told her the
story to its last detail, with as many flour-
ishes as I could remember, to give it color,
and putting my love-sick, duel-slain uncle
before her as I knew him from the family
portrait — a dashing figure in the tight blue
coat so elegantly slim at the waist, as the
dandy fashion of the period demanded, with
the flashing dark face propped by a tall,
pointed collar, and framed in black Byron
locks. Against a curtain of crimson velvet
he was pictured standing in a consciously
graceful attitude, one well-shaped foot ad-
vanced, good shoulders back, a gloved hand

resting upon the hip, and its fine bared mate,
wearing a dazzling ring, posed lightly upon
the knob of a slender sword-cane.

To my childish eyes this ill-fated relative
had seemed a glorious lover, and I could
never fully understand why the difficult Eve-
lina had given him the mitten ; for after un-
told coquetries in my uncle's direction, it
was her sudden favoring of his rival, God-
frey Bullock, it was claimed, that had brou^^lit
the duel about.

These two had been the chosen beaux of
all that long-ago Virginia time. And the
belle and toast of three broad Southern
States, the mirror of fashion and envy of
her sex, was Evelina Drury; one dowered
as richly by Fortune as by Nature, but with a
heart as hard, I had been taught to believe,
as her body was soft and beautiful.

It was vowed that it had required death
to open her eyes to her choice; for when
that chill November morning, half-crazed by
grief, and their own worship for her turned
to sudden hate, the two avenging younger
brothers carried Ernest Hamilton, stark in
death and terribly beautiful, to the Druiys'
door, and laying him at the feet of the proud
daughter of that house, faced her with his
murder, with one cry she kissed his cold lipe
and fell senseless upon his breast ; and then
all that Southern world had known that love
had come at last, too late, tc cold Evelina
Drury.

All this I related again that modem birth-
day night, in a city where romance seemed
to have but little part, but with the drear of
its rushing life forgotten in the imposing
sorrows of my family legend. And I think
I must have told the story well ; for aside
from its romantic fascination, the influence
of that distant duel had been a vivid and
terrifying one upon my early childhood.
Family feuds of intensest bitterness had fol-
lowed upon its heels, and lived through gen-
erations. And though the stimulus for the
desperate act (at last I know the innocent
stimulus) had with her single parent, Gen-
eral Drury, disappeared at once from Vir-
ginia, and up to my last hearing of the story
not been heard of since (by my family, at
least), in their infantile prayers my mother's
children, bom years after that autumn morn-
ing tragedy, nightly uttered the name of
Evelina Drury with bated breath, as protec-
tion was implored against her blight for the
remaining bachelors of our blood.

Even this idiotic detail I repeated. And
I added, laughing, for somehow these child
prayers, told off with «nrh deadly earnest-
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THE LADY WITH THE WATERFALL.

533

ness against the unknown sinner, always
canie back to me with delightful apprecia-
tion :

** Think of prajring solemnly every night,
even after I was sent to school, and away
from old Bina's influence, who had taught
us — she had been my mother's and Uncle
Elrnest's nurse as well, and he was the apple
of her eye — * God keep my Uncle Jack and my
Uncle George from Evelina Drury.* Think
how invincible she must have been.

"Old Bina vowed that her soul was as
black as Satan's, yet they called her * Fair
Evelina,' ' Sweet Evelina ' ! "

And then something in my listener's atti-
tude— a stricken stillness— arrested my at-
tention, and, looking into her white face, in
one awed moment I knew the truth.

Exiled and alone in the alien land, old and
poor, but still rare and conquering in her
dimmed plumage, the belle of long-ago Vir-
ginia sat beside me — she who had been the
toast of three broad Southern States, she
for whom men had died.

All the glory of her state departed, she
was still a queen upon the dusty park bench ;
and I could fancy, as I looked at her, what a
whet she had been in her blooming youth to
hot-headed youths fiercely jealous of her
smiles. I knew, too, in a flash, with that
conviction of the soul that flouts at testi-
mony, that the pride and envy of that old-
time Virginia had not been the heartless

siren my grieving kindred had made her, but
just a sweetly silly girl, a tender enchant-
ress, who could not entirely leave any suf-
fering swain without hope.

All this I saw, and one other thing— a
look upon her face as fixed and unrelated as
Destiny's, and as hopeless. I was not to be
left long in doubt as to its meaning.

With her old grace, but with a terrifying
ceremony of manner, she thanked me for the
pleasure my society had given her. " Oh,
how much pleasure" she could never tell
me. And in the same cold, strange, arti-
ficial little voice, my wondering ears soon
heard her imploring my forgiveness — my for-
giveness, dear Heaven ! — that she had forced
me to break bread with her, her the enemy
of my house, my bom enemy !

** Ah," she sighed here, with that breath-
less movement of her small hand at the throat
I had before called forth, ** if only I had
known who you were, nothing on earth would
have made me do it."

No word of reproach did she speak for the
dead Hamiltons, who had heaped her name
with blame and her memory with venom. No
slur did she cast upon the one who must mix
a lady's name with pistoling, and whose dead
kiss had driven her like one hunted from her
own land, with a dowry of bitterest maiden-
hood ; for afterwards, on the spotted blank
leaf of my old " Friendship's Offering,"
where she had written it that night, I read in

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THE LAST I EVER SAW OF MY OLD BEAUTY."

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534

THE LADY WITH THE WATERFALL,

full the name of her youth, and could not help
believing that it had been for the sake of
the dead duellist that it was never changed.
No displeasure for me even. Only that
one thing that I read in her strange words,
in her frozen countenance, in her blue
eyes, wide with a wild dread of me — a
sea without bounds rolled between her and
me.

At last I comprehended, and ceased to im-
plore her ; for I saw that I was pleading with
one who could not understand, and that the
dreadful blunder I had made in telling her
the story was not the thing that stood be-
tween us. It was the old feeling of my
family, the hatred that for forty years had
divided her and hers and all those of my
blood, the Hamilton-Drury feud; and with-
out ever having known hate herself, after
forty years she still bowed to hating ideals.
Ah, whatever might be the bitter conse-
quences, she must walk in the bitterer way
she had known so long ! The sacred dignity
of that solemn thing, the feud, must be left
undefiled !

She arose to depart, and somewhat com-
forted by a faint inclination to shake her for
the fantastic etiquette I could not at all ap-
preciate— what was a painted duellist to me
now compared to her living charm!— I swal-
lowed the rising salt of my misery and bowed
in silence to her decree.

** Miss Brice, believe me, it is best we meet
no more," she said, with a plaintive solem-
nity that was yet a command. * * Miss Brice,
I bid you good-night;'* and still trembling
visibly, tragically white under her dust of
rouge— how it tore me to see it at that mo-
ment!— with her wide skirt held out, she
swept me a low courtesy, a salutation so
coldly ceremonious, so sadly unrelated to
the deal kinsfolk's moments we had known
together, that in spite of myself, and all
unschooled in these stately politenesses, I
was forced to my feet to return in the best
fashion at my command.

She turned and moved away with the won-
derfully youthful carriage that had always
bewitched me. Through my tears, too, for
I could not bear to lose her, I saw that in
spite of her misery she held her skirt straight
up in front in the pretty old airy way.

Then all at once her fineries were hnddled
close about her in a delicious feminine con-
cern for their safety. But even as I tren>-
bled for the precious antiquities, she ^raa
joined by a rushing figure, evidently equally
solicitous for their welfare, the handsome
Mr. Roads, with his clumsy gallantries azKl
his big umbrella, a cheerless property with-
out which he rarely appeared at the park ;
for suddenly the storm that for hours had
been threatening, and for several seconds
announcing its coming with fierce windy
gusts, had burst upon the park in wild dashes
of rain.

This was the last I ever saw of ray old
beauty, as she departed that night on Mr.
Roads's arm, under dripping skies and a
piteously disgraceful umbrella.

As she went, my thought flew back to my
dead and once worshiped kinsman in a fierce
reproach. His moment of manly folly had
brought the gentleman swift peace ; but for
the sin of having been born soft and beauti*
f ul, this still sweet and delicately faded Eve-
lina (who at ninety, maybe, would still cher-
ish beaux and fineries) had for twoscore
years, uncomplaining and in desolate exile,
reaped the bitter harvest that folly had
sown. If in that long ago she had been at
all to blame, had she not atoned ?

At the park gate the departing pair hesi-
tated for a moment, as if searching for near
shelter from the sudden tempest.

Then, with the bumpy umbrella breasted
against the ^\^nd, a lightning flash, and a last
silhouette of grace and bygone fashion—a
silhouette of clinging femininity; and back
into the shadov; from which she had for a
moment emerged went the belle of old
Virginia.

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And Be vmu trtthdratenfrom them (the dtteiplea) about a $ton^§ eaat, and kneeled down^ and prayed, .
there appeared an angel nnlo Him from heaven^ ttrengthening Uim.—hVKm, zxil. 41-4S.

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

By the Reverend John Watson, D.D.
PART X.— JESUS BEFORE THE COUxNCIL.— BEFORE PONTIUS PILATE.

XT would be with a sense of relief that
Jesus accepted arrest and stood a pris-
oner before the supreme court of His na-
tion. His relations with the ruling class
had been strained from the beginning of his
public ministry, and during the last year
they had become unbearable. For a public
teacher the most unkindly atmosphere is one
of suspicion and prejudice ; the most genial

is one of candor and sympathy. It was fast
becoming impossible for Jesus to preach the
Gospel with abandonment of mind, because
it was imperative for Him to defend Himself
against outrageous charges and poisonous
insinuations. Within the arena of open de-
bate Jesus had met and worsted His oppo-
nents at every turn ; but this had only fed
their hatred. His moral victories had de-

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON

537

livered His soul; they had condemned His
life. There was no use in delaying the final
issue; the rulers had completed their plans;
He had placed Himself in their grasp; let
Him be tried for His life according to law.
He did not, in the state of feeling, expect
justice; He was prepared for the Cross; He
only had one desire — that the end should
not tarry. ** What thou doest," He said to
Judas, with a touch of impatience, ''do
quickly." And then Judas left to fire the
mine.

Whatever may have been the fanaticism
of the Jewish character, the spirit of Jewish
law was merciful in the extreme. Under no
system has there been a more conscious de-
sire to guard the rights of a prisoner or to
allow him opportunities for escape. As re-
gards his own evidence, and the testimony
of the witnesses, and the time of the trial,
and the action of the judges, the accused
had every advantage. It is not vain prophecy
to say that if the processes of law had been
observed, Jesus would have been acquitted.
There are occasions, however, when passion
can be restrained by no form, and the Coun-
cil were determined that by fair means or
foul Jesus should die. It does seem true,
as theology has suggested, that this Man
was the innocent substitute for other men's
sins, for every arrangement of justice was
upturned in His case, and He, who was the
most innocent of men, was treated as the
most guilty. The trial of Jesus was, from
beginning to end, a travesty of justice ; and
although it may be granted that our Master
was a heretic according to the Jewish creed,
as far as law went His was a judicial assas-
sination.

The sustained course of injustice began
with His arrest, which was accomplished
with every circumstance of treachery and
violence in the Garden of Gethsemane by a
-band composed partly of Roman soldiers,
partly of Temple servants. There were only
two circumstances in which an accused per-
son could be arrested before his trial in Jew-
ish practice — if it was supposed that he
would escape, or that he would offer resist-
ance. As the Council was perfectly aware,
neither alternative applied to Jesus. In-
stead of showing any desire to evade their
authority, He had come up to the capital and
practically presented Himself for arrest, and
the only danger of tumult among the people
lay in the violence of the Council. If Jesus
was simply summoned to appear and to de-
fend His teaching before the Council, He
would certainly not refuse, and His followers.

from certain past collisions, had no reason
to fear the result. The midnight arrest,
planned with so much cunning and treachery,
was a gross mistake, because it was a flag-
rant illegality and a wanton indigni ty . Jesus
would allow no resistance to be offered. He
checked Peter's folly instantly, for this
would have put Him in the wrong and justi-
fied their action ; and He protested, with in-
dignation, against their conduct. * * Was He
a common criminal and a mere brigand, that
they should come out against Him with swords
and staves ? " His captors were not, how-
ever, in a mood to listen to any protest, and,
going to the extreme of illegality, they led
Jesus away bound.

As they had arrested Jesus with force,
they were under the deeper obligation to
bring Him to a regular trial without delay;
but their next proceeding was to taJce Jesus
not to the Sanhedrin, which was a compe-
tent court, but to the palace of Annas, who
was not even a magistrate. No doubt there
was a strong reason for haling Jesus before
this man, and no doubt he was anxious to
examine Jesus. Years ago Annas had been
himself High Priest, and was removed from
office by the Roman authorities for his arro-
gance. Although a private person, he was
the acting head of the priestly party, a man
of enormous wealth, crafty ability, and un-
scrupulous character — the type of a success-
ful, influential ecclesiastic of the highest
rank. It maybe assumed that the final plot
against Jesus was hatched in that palace,
and that the strong will of Annas stiffened
the courage of the Council. Jesus would be
perfectly aware that He was face to face
with His most dangerous and powerful en-
emy, and He would also know that, as an
ex-High Priest, Annas had in his own person
no judicial position. One may therefore be
certain that the first examination of the
Master, which by an ambiguity in the nar-
ration might have taken place before either
Annas or Caiaphas, did not take place be-
fore Annas. Very likely the old priest was
content to study Jesus, and did not care to
ask Him questions. As soon as his curiosity
was satisfied Jesus was removed to the pal-
ace of Caiaphas, the High Priest of the day
and Annas' son-in-law, where a legal court
was waiting to receive the case. So it re-
mains that before Jesus' trial began He had
been twice wronged, once by His arrest, and
a second time by being taken to a private
house that He might ^ exhibited to a dis-
graced and wire-pulling ecclesiastic.

The court before whom Jesus^ppeared

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538

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER.

for His first examinatioD, and which might
be called a court of the first instance, was a
committee of the Sanhedrin, meeting under
the presidency of the High Priest. Its duty
was to conduct the preliminary examination,
and, in case of presumptive guilt, to send
the accused to the full Sanhedrin for final
examination and sentence. No objection
could be taken to the judicial body before
whom Jesus now stood, but the gravest ob-
jection is to be taken at once to their pro-
cedure. According to Jewish law — and it
is also in accordance with justice — the first
step is to let
the prisoner
know the
crime with
which he is
charged.
With the
Jews
this was
done not
by an in-
dictment, as
in western
custom, but
by the chief
witnesses,
whose testi-
mony was the accusation
he had to meet. As
soon, therefore, as Jesus
stood before Caiaphas in
this first stage, and be-
fore He was asked any question,
the witnesses ought to have ap-
peared and given their evidence.
Until that point there was no
case before the court, and the
judges should not have known why Jesus
stood at their bar. As it was, the High
Priest, in the very teeth of the law, and
acting as if he were a prosecutor — which of
course he was in fact — instead of
a judge, began to question Jesus
about His teaching and about His
followers, so that the court
might gather evidence of crime
from His own lips— an ex-
tremely convenient and simple
method of managing a case,
and one which might be very
successful with a timid and con-
science-stricken prisoner. Jesus
was neither, and He at once re-
fused to be witness as well as
accused, and reminded His judges
that they were violating the

clearest provisions of the law. He had not
been a crafty conspirator, forming a secret
society and teaching secret doctrine. On
the contrary. He had taught in public places,
as they knew, and discussed His message
openly with the people. Why did they ask
Him questions ? why did they not ask those
who had heard Him ? Here was the third
illegality — to begin a trial without a charge,
and then to endeavor to create a charge
from the prisoner's lips.

If Jesus' enemies had imagined that they
could play fast and loose with the regulations
of law unchallenged, they had
now learned their mistake, for at
every step Jesus had gained a
legal victory — at His arrest, in
Annas' palace, in the attempted
examination. They were concussed into
some respect for their own jurisprudence,
and at last brought forward witnesses and a
charge. The indictment, to take that first,
as it emerges from the evidence, came to this,
that Jesus had said, either that He would
destroy, or that He was able to destroy, the
Temple. This was a perversion of one of
^^^^ Jesus' striking sayings during His first pub-
lic visit to Jerusalem, which had excited sus-
picion at the time, and had been laid up for
future use. Practically it came to a charge
of blasphemy against the Holy Place, and by
inference against the worship and creed of
the nation. As a ground for
trial it was quite fair, since if
Jesus had wantonly attacked the
national institutions He was liable
to punishment, but everything
depended on the wit-
nesses. And the wit-
nesses against Jesus were
worse than useless for
two damning reasons.
One was that, while it is
an elementary condition
of justice that there
should be no collusion be-
tween the witnesses and
the judges, those wit-
nesses were notoriously
arranged for and sub-
orned by the judges, and
the other was that they
had learned their lesson
so ill that they contra-
dicted one another after
a flagrant fashion, and
their testimony could not
be accepted even by this
partial court. Asthewit-

NATIVB LAMPS.

The OrimtcU has never pouetted ode'
quate meana of illumincUion. The feeble
glimmer of an oil taper^ or a twitted ttick
of uwd floating in oil, hoe been to this day
the Eattemer*9 mmrce of artificial light.
Of the lampe thovm in the drawing. No. I
ia eaid, from ite decoration, to be early
Christian ; No. S, although found in an old
tomb, is similar to No. 8, which is in mod-
em use ; No. 6 is Jewish ; and No. 7, Oreek.
Excepting No. S, the Roman bronze, all are
of clay or terra ootta.— Abtxbt'b Notb.

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON

530

Mtmnt of Olivet.

Southeast comer.
Wall ofJerutalem.

The Garden of Oethaemane.

THE VALLEY OP JEHOSAPHAT.

nesses had obliterated one another, there was
no charge against Jesus, and He ought to have
been declared innocent and set free. As it
was, He was kept bound till a meeting of the
full Sanhedrin could be called in the early
morning, and He be placed again on trial.
Two more illegalities were now added to the
list — the tampering with witnesses, and the
imprisonment of an acquitted man.

The daylight was breaking when Jesus was
brought for the first and last time before
the Seventy, who, with the High Priest as
president, made the supreme court of the
nation, and the final stage of this momen-
tous trial began. One expects some respect
for law now, and some decency in proceed-
ings, but Jesus fared as ill in the Sanhedrin
as in its committee. After some irregular
examination and some open insults, the High
Priest arose in his place and solenmly charged
Jesus to declare whether He were the Mes-
siah, the Son of the Blessed. The former
charge of blasphemy against the Temple had
disappeared, and a new one had been sprung
on the prisoner ; and in spite of the provision
in Jewish law that no accused person should
be invited to incriminate himself, the chief
judge put this leading question to Jesus.
The Master might have objected and kept
silence ; but with a court set on injustice,
and thirsting for His blood, what purpose
would be served by appeals to justice?
Standing in face of the heads of the Jewish

people a bound prisoner. He declared that
He was the Christ, and that Hid judges of
to-day, now vaunting themselves in their
power, would see Him sitting on the right
hand of power and coming in the clouds of
heaven. A paroxysm of fury seized the
court, the High Priest rent hia clothes, and
the Sanhedrin condemned Jesus to death for
the highest form of blasphemy.

Still faithful at every turn to their princi-
ple of injustice, the court, in their final de-
cision, accomplished two more violations of
law. They found Jesus guilty of death for
a crime which did not exist — claiming to be
the Messiah ; and they did not try Him for
the crime they intended — claiming to be the
Messiah and being an impostor. It was a
satire on all the past history of the Jews
that the Messiah could now never be ac-
cepted, since as soon as He declared Him-
self, He would be put to death without more
ado, as happened to the real Messiah. They
also began the trial at night, which, in a
case so serious, was illegal, and they con-
cluded it on the day before the Sabbath,
which was illegal, and they passed sentence
without adjourning four-and-twenty hours,
which was illegal. In their frantic haste to
secure the death of Jesus, the chief council
of His nation trampled under foot every safe-
guard afforded to the humblest criminal, and
carried the death of Jesus with enthusiastic
acclamation. It was the exposure and con-

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON

541

demnation of the rulers of the Jewish nation.
For aboat three years the Master had taught
'^ and lived the gospel of the Divine Love
among this people, with the result that the
Jewish Church would have dealt more kindly
with Him if He had been a highway robber
or a religious hypocrite. So fierce was the
hatred of goodness among the priests: so
unreasoning was the fear of reality among
the Pharisees. The verdict on Jesus was the
victory of the ecclesiastical and dogmatic
spirit at its worst.

When the supreme court of the Jewish
people tried Jesus and found Him guilty of
blasphemy, the Sanhedrin had done its ut-
most, but the persecutors of Jesus were still
far short of their end. Prejudiced and venal
judges might override every form of Jewish
law; but one thing they could not do, and
that was to put Him to death. As soon as
the Jewish judges had finished they had the
prisoner conveyed to the Roman Procurator,
and they accompanied him in force lest their
illegal veifdict should be overruled, and, after
all their endeavors, Jesus should escape.

Pontius Pilate, as the representative of
the Emperor, had imperial authority in his
province, subject always to the appeal to
Rome ; but this authority he was obliged to
use in accordance with the policy of his
state. The Romans, with much wisdom,
were accustomed to allow to every conquered
nation as much liberty as might be consist-
ent with the absolute supremacy of Rome,
and to interfere as little as possible with
local affairs. Unto each people was granted
the use of their own religion and their own
laws, with only this condition in the matter
of religion — that they should not interfere
with any other ; and this restriction in law
— that the power of life and death should
remain with the Roman ofiicial. As a rule,
the Romans were strongly disinclined to med-
dle with religious squabbles, but they were
very sensitive to the slightest suggestion of
treason against the Emperor. When the
Jews brought Jesus to the bar of Pilate,
their danger was, that he would refuse to
have anything to do with a point of theol-
ogy, and their final cue was to convince the
Roman judge that Jesus had been fostering
a revolution against the government.

What, however, they hoped was, that the
Procurator, busied about many things at
that season and disinclined to have any con-
troversy with the nation assembled for Pass-
over, would be content with the acknowl-
edgment of his authority, and ratify any

sentence they might have passed. It is
suggested by the circumstance of the Jews
presenting Jesus without any accusation that
Pilate took a very formal view of his duties,
and did not trouble himself to inquire into
cases. They forgot that there was a differ-
ence between Barabbas and Jesus. To-day
the Jews found Pilate in another mood.
With the instinct of a judge he compared
the noble face of the prisoner and the evil
countenances of the priests, whose chiefs
he knew well and did not respect. It was
evident to any person that this was no ban-
dit or common malefactor whom they had
hauled to the judgment-seat, and that their
eagerness was rather an outburst of fanati-
cism than the passion for justice. Pilate
must go to the bottom of this matter, as he
was a Roman and Procurator of Judsea, and
he demanded to know the charge against the
prisoner.

This unexpected curiosity of Pilate was a
distinct check to Jesus* persecutors, who
had hoped to pass their case through the
Roman court without investigation. They
were annoyed as Jews, because Pilate had
asserted his latent authority with emphasis
in face of the public ; they were embarrassed
as pleaders, because they were perfectly
aware that the charge on which they had
condemned Jesus in the lower court would
not serve their turn here. If Jesus had
spoken disrespectfully of the Temple, which
they knew He had not, it would be rather a
certificate of common sense to Pilate ; and
if they urged Jesus' assertion of Mesdiah-
ship, the Roman would not know what they
said. They were not ready with the other
charge on the instant, and lost their tempers
— not for the first time in this case. Were
they going to be questioned and called to
account at every turn ? Was it any pleas-
ure to them to visit Pilate's court ? ** If
He were not a malefactor," they answered
sullenly, ** we would not have delivered Him
unto thee."

When Pilate received this discourteous re-
ply, he understood the situation, and knew
that he was master. It was, as he sus-
pected, a conspiracy of those tricky, un-
scrupulous, revengeful priests, and he was
to be the tool to do their behest. This vic-
tim of theirs was a Jew of nobler character
with whom they had quarrelled about reli-
gion, and to please their spite Roman law
was to put Him to death without trial. Let
them understand that even a Jewish provin-
cial had a right to better treatment. With-
out fair trial Pilate would not condemn Jesus,

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542

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

and without a charge he could not try Him,
and so it would be best for the priests, he
suggested with grim suavity, and it would
also save all friction, that
they should take Jesus
away and try Him ac-
cording to their own law.
As if they had not done
so, as if Pilate did not
know they had, as if
their diflficulty was not to
judge Jesus, but to get
Jesus crucified. With
much bitterness they
confessed their desire,
and acknowledged Pi-
late's authority. Did he
think that they would
have brought their pris-
oner to him if they could have managed their
own business ? *' It is not lawful for us,"
they said bitterly, '* to put any man to
death."

By this time they were ready with a charge
which Pilate would understand without any
difficulty, and which would surely remove
his scruples. Once again His prosecutors
changed the ground of guilt, and now they
betook themselves to straightforward and
unjustified falsehood. A few days ago the
Herodians had laid the trap of treason for
Jesus, with their question about paying trib-
ute to Caesar, and Jesus had put them and
the Pharisees who inspired them to confu-
sion. They did not ask the question now:
they boldly made the assertion. What mat-
tered it that Jesus had been careful never
to say one word against the Romans ? that
He had cast His shield over the tax-gath-
erers ? that His whole teaching had been
against revolution ? It was expedient that
this man should die, or else the nation would
be destroyed — it was His death in the end
which did destroy the nation— and so it did
not matter much what was the accusation
so long as it secured the crucifixion. This
is His crime: **He has been inciting the
people not to give tribute to Caesar, and
claiming Himself to be a king."

Pilate may have been contemptuous and
unprincipled ; the whole incident shows that
he was not stupid, but that he had a very
shrewd insight. Had Jesus been one of the
zealots, who were ready to rise at any time
against the Roman legions and to reduce so-
ciety to anarchy, Pilate would have identified
him at a glance and taken sharp measures.
Only it would not have been the Jews who
would have been the prosecutors. This poor

OLD CAPITAL— FRAGMENT AT CAPERNAUM.

man, in His peasant dress, and urith His
gracious face, may have been an offender
against some absurd Jewish law, but He was
no revolutionary against
the Romans. Pilate took
Jesus apart, and with a
certain not unkindly
irony, asked whether He
was the King of the
Jews. And Jesus, who
would hardly answer His
own Council in their in-
solence and hypocrisy,
was candid to the Roman
magistrate; who was not
His enemy, who was
rather His friend. ** In
the sense in which you
and these priests would
understand the word 1 am not a king; I have
no soldiers, and no sword must be used for
Me ; the Emperor need have no fear of Me,
In another sense I am a King with a King-
dom which will be far wider than the Roman
Empire. My Kingdom is not that of the
sword, but of truth; and I reign not over
men's bodies, but over men's souls." As
Pilate looked on this calm, beautiful enthusi-
ast, with his unworldly hopes and spiritual
dreams, the futility of life came upon the
cynical Roman. **What is truth?" said
Pilate, and he did not wait for any answer
— what use was it ? — but he returned to the
Jews and declared that he could find no fault
in Jesus.

It was a just judgment, worthy of the
Empire and the law which the Procurator
represented. It must ever remain a satis-
faction to the disciples of Jesus that our
Master received one honest trial in Hi3 life,
and was declared innocent before the highest
tribunal of earth. If Pilate had only stood
fast in his integrity, and given effect to his
sentence ! But he was not trying an ordi-
nary prisoner, and before him lay the keen-
est ordeal. At his decision the storm burst
forth of disappointment, malice, insolence,
anger, and it beat furiously on Pilate's judg-
ment-seat, so that he was shaken, and, hesi-
tating, lost his opportunity. As he sought
for a way of escape, his ear caught the word
Galilean, and Pilate conceived an adroit
stroke of policy. He would send this em-
barrassing prisoner to Herod, Jesus' own
monarch, for trial ; thus at once conciliating
the Tetrarch, and ridding himself of Jesus.
Herod was much pleased with this courtesy,
and was anxious to see Jesus do miracles ;
but the fox was too cunning to undertidse a

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THE REVEREND JOHN WATSON

543

trialy so Jesus was. cast back on Pilate — ixmg
from one to the other as an offense whom
generations to come would welcome as their
Saviour.

Pilate, whose nerve was rapidly departing,
now tried one expedient after another to save
Jesus without risk to himself, for the person-
ality of our Master cast a spell over him,
and his wife's dreams had increased his awe.
He would scourge Jesus, as a warning to this
luumless enthusiast not to meddle with dan-
gerous affairs, and let Him go, but this con-
cession of injustice would not satisfy instead
of the Cross. He would offer them the
choice of a prisoner as an act of grace,
either Barabbas, a famous bandit, a Rob Roy
and Robin Hood kind of person, or Jesus of
Nazareth; and he supposed that for very
shame even the priests would have taken
Jesus, but they simply clutched at Barabbas.
As for Jesus, He must be crucified. Then
Pilate washed his hands in token that he
would take no responsibility for what was
to follow, and, going from one injustice to
another, be gave Jesus to his brutal soldiery
to be scourged, and afterwards— a pitiful de-
vice—he brought out the bleeding victim, and
let the people see the gentlest of prophets and
most gracious of benefactors with the crown
of jagged thorns on His head and the signs
of unspeakable insult on His face. ** Be-
hold the Man !" Pilate said, with a mys-
terious emotion, in the vain hope that the
heart of the people would be touched by the
sight of outraged love; but the fanatics,
unreasoning and implacable still, chanted
their death song, "Crucify Him! crucify
Him!''

As the Procurator stood irresolute, torn
between justice and fear, he heard some
voice, louder than the others, declaring that
Jesus had claimed to be God, and the awful-
ness of Jesus deepened in his imagination.
Once more Pilate led Jesus into the hall of
judgment, and now he asked Him fearfully
whether, indeed. He were divine. Jesus was
silent. Could speech avail anything now
with this temporizing, cowardly man? No
answer; and Pilate, who was much shaken,
lost patience. ** Have I not power to set
Thee free, or to condemn Thee to Calvary? "
Jesus looked on this helpless shadow and
semblance of a man who had not power
enough to obey his conscience, or bid defi-

ance to a crew of fanatics, and again the
grace of Jesus overcame them, and He pitied
His judge. He acknowledged the power of
the state, as He had ever done, and honored
civil authority — reminding Pilate that he was
commissioned of the Eternal, and He appor-
tioned the sin of His trial, with equal hand
assigning the larger share to the jew and
not to the Roman. If the Romans were
His executioners, they were unwilling. It
was the Jews who hungered for Jesus' death.
They, therefore, not Pilate, should have the
blame. Once more Pilate pleaded for Jesus
before he spoke the words which would send
the Master to the Cross, and leave an in-
delible stain on Roman justice, " Behold
your King ! ' ' and then the rage of the priests
and the mob, which had been rising and swell-
ing for three hours, broke all bounds; and
they began to murmur with ominous sug-
gestion: "If thou let this man go, thou
art not Caesar's friend." Already, with the
imagination of one conscious of many acts
of injustice, Pilate saw himself accused to
the moody and jealous tyrant who ruled the
world, and to save himself he must sacrifice
Jesus. After an agony of anxiety and the
last degradation of self-respect, the priests
had won, and the long feud of the Pharisees
was satisfied. Pontius Pilate, at the bidding
of Jesus' own nation, and with the full knowl-
edge that Jesus was innocent, ordered the
Master to be crucified.

One cannot bid good-bye to the judge of
Jesus, to whom was given a solitary oppor-
tunity, and who misused it so miserably,
without vain regret and a fond imagination.
If the Procurator of Judsea had obeyed his
own conscience, and vindicated the majesty
of Roman law, if he had declared Jesus inno-
cent from his judgment-seat, with authority,
and rescued Him from the hands of His ene-
mies, then he had gained unto himself ever-
lasting renown. Jesus might afterwards
have been stoned to death by a Jerusalem
mob — very likely He would— and Pilate might
have been recalled in disgrace to Rome ; but
the friends of the Master over all the world
would have remembered with just pride that
in the hour of His extremity Jesus found
protection under the Roman eagles, and they
would have placed the name of His brave,
incorruptible judge next in order to the Holy
Apostles.

(To be continued.)

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''Tk$enielbUwaMomUid€tkt/mrmmet,jaUm9tk0

CASTING A GREAT LENS.

A NEW VENTIRK IN' PRACTICAL PHILAXTIIUOPV

By Hay Stannard Baker.

With Illustrations prom Drawings made on the spot bt George Varian.

IT had just turned afternoon in the fur-
nace house of the glass works of Jena.
For upward of two hours everything had
been in readiness for the casting of the great
lens, everything except the glass. The Mas-
ter had directed the placing of the huge cir-
cular iron mold near the open doorway and
lust between the two furnaces— the one from

Making CruciMen.

which now burst the fervid white radiance
of the molten glass, and the one in which
through weeks of lessening heat the lens,
when casty was to be cooled and toughened

and tempered. The mold was a meter and
a quarter in diameter — ovef^foui^TeSt— and
the lens here to be cast would make one of
the largest in the world, large enough to
bring the moon within a few score of miles
of the earth, and one so perfect, perhaps,
as to surprise new secrets from the sun
itself.

The Master had sprinkled the bottom
of the mold with fine sand from a curious
tin pot, that the hot glass might not
take up impurities from the iron. A dozen
brawny workmen, in blue blouses and wooden-
soled shoes, had come in to man the long,
wheel-mounted tongs which were to drag
the crucible from the furnace bed. Other
workmen with sledges and bars had torn a
gaping hole in the front of the cooling fur-
nace, so that it would be ready for the in-
stant admission of the lens.

So everything was ready. The Master,
shading his face with his upraised arm,
peered into the ** glory" hole of the melt-
ing furnace, as he had been doing with ever
greater frequency for hours past. He
watched for a moment the shimmering, wrin-
kled surface of the molten glass within the
crucible, and then he followed the movements
of the stirring lever. Was the color exactly
right ? Did the sluggish waves which fol-
lowed the stirring plunger show thick or thin
enough ?

At last the time came. The Master gave
the word, and a dozen men sprang forward
with hooks and bars. The * * glory ' * hole was
hardly larger than a man's head — just suffi-
cient for the passage of the stirring lever

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CASTING A GRKAT LENS,

545

and to permit examination. With this as a
beginning, the workmen tore out the whole
front of the furnace, working with the ut-
most activity, their heelless shoes clattering
on the stone floor as they rushed back and
forth. The stirring lever was dismantled,
and the stirring plunger itself, white-hot
and sparkling with the dust that fell upon
it, was cast outside, where it lay, a deep
wine-red, in the sunshine.

The grappling tongs were thick bars of

steel about thirty feet long, mounted on iron
wheels. As soon as the furnace was open,
the grappling ends were thrust inside, one
on each side of the crucible, the men at the
other end leaning back with heads averted
to avoid the fervid outburst of heat.

Although the novice could not see it be-
cause of the brightness of the glow, there was
a thick ridge around the crucible, about half-
way up. Under this the tongs fitted them-
selves. The men at the other end bore down

THE CRITICAL POINT.

'Therein . . . a quick upirard nrtng of thf foreman^a arm, and out /r<tin the crucible »lipM thf molten ilau. . . . There Uaomt-
thing indescribable about the fluidity of this mass. Jt seems thick, like oil, and yet it spreads more swiftly than teater.^'

joogle

646

CASTING A GREAT LENS,

hard,but the crucible did not stir. Itwasfirmly
fastened to the furnace floor by the glass
that had spilled in the melting. It was an
anxious moment. Crucibles have been broken
in lifting. The Master raised his hand.
Slowly the men added their
weight at the far end of the
lever. The crucible broke sud-
denly free, jogging a little, so
that a bit of the glass over-
flowed and ran down like thick
syrup. An instant later the
crucible was out-
side the furnace,
filling the whole
of the high dim
room with heat
and light, like a
new sun. And
thus it was
pushed down the
room toward the
mold, a thing of
exquisite beauty,
and yet of terror,
showing a hun-
dred evanescent
colors, changing
red, pink, yel-
low, violet.

The crucible was lowered to the floor, the
tongs were removed, and a workman cast a
beard of asbestos over the glass to prevent
too rapid cooling. Here it stood a few min-
utes, and when the crucible began to define
itself, one discovered that it was made of fine
yellow-glazed pottery. Imperfections on its
surface stood out like specks on a mirror, or
as one would imagine the spots on the sun.

It had required long hours for a man to
fashion the clay of this crucible, and many
weeks for it to dry, and then for days be-
fore it was used it had been slowly heated
to prepare it for the high temperature of
the furnace. And with this single melting
its service is finished and it is consigned to
the scrap heap.

Three men with thickly gloved hands are
now fastening an iron band around the cruci-
ble just under the ridge. On each side' of
this band there is a protruding pivot of steel
which fits into a socket in the ends of the
grappling tongs, thus permitting the cruci-
ble to be tipped up as if on an axle. Again
the men rest their weight on the other end
of the tongs, the crucible is lifted, and an
instant later it is poised over the iron mold.
The critical point of all this labor has at last
been reached. There is a pause as if the

workmen felt the anxiety of the moment.
The foreman, with his hand re^j on the tilt-
ing lever, awaits the Master's word. There
is a shout, a quick upward swin^ of the for^
man's arm, and out from the cracible slipi

AT THE COOUNG FURNACE.

The mold, with the ulotHng Una inside, UHi* . . . lifted itith chain tcuskle to the heif^t oftkefm

A movat>le-/rame tramway waa then placed underneath it, and it wa* quieklp pushed into th€ fmr-macr.*'

the molten glass. It has been a moment of
so much stress that one anticipates a crash
as the glass touches the cool iron of the
mold, but there is absolute silence — not so
much as a hiss or the sound of the splash.
There is something indescribable about the
fluidity of this mass. It seems thick, like
oil, and yet it spreads more swiftly than
water: it is more like quicksilver than any-
thing else that one can think of, and yet not
at all like quicksilver.

The moid, with the glowing lens inside, was
now covered with a plate of iron, wheeled
to the mouth of the cooling furnace, and
lifted with chain tackle to the height of the
furnace floor. A movable-frame tramway
was then placed undereath it, and it was
quickly pushed into the furnace. Workmen
were ready with brick and mortar, and in
ten minutes the lens was walled in. Here it
is cooled for two weeks, and then brought
again to the open air, dull and milky of sur-
face and possessing only the general shape
of a lens. After that, for days and weeks,
workmen are employed in polishing it, not to
give it the final form which it will have in
the great telescope, but merely to prepare
it for that important and anxious day when
it will be submitted to those searching testa

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CASTING A GREAT LENS.

547

for imperfections, during which it must pass
even the close scrutiny of microscopic and
spectroscopic examination. A few bubbles
it may have and pass, for bubbles have no
effect, except to reduce the passage of light
in a minute degree; but veins, denoting the
improper mixture of the ingredients of the
glass, it must not have. If it passes all the
tests — and sometimes it requires many cast-
ings and costs many rejected lenses of this
most precious of glass before the necessary
perfection is attained — it is again sent to the
furnace house, where with even greater care
than before it is slowly raised to a high tem-
perature, and thus annealed, and then as
slowly cooled for two months or more. After
that it is ready for the lens-maker proper,
that skilled mechanician and mathematician
of Jena or of America or of Prance, who pol-
ishes down its sides with infinite care, until
they reach the most perfect curves appro-
priate to the refraction and dispersion of
the glass disks employed. Each of these
processes has absorbed precious time and
has cost much money: the bare glass for

such a lens would
cost about $5,000.
To this the skill of
the optician would
add in polishing
perhaps $20,000
more, so that the

" Workmen were ready urith brick and mortar, and in ten minutet i
waa lealled in."

finished lens, ready for fitting into the tele-
scope tube, would represent an expenditure
of some $25,000. Through such pains and
expense as this must science pass that man-
kind may add a few facts to its knowledge
of some distant star.

The German workmen are standing back
from the cooling furnace, perspiring, the
lens finally cast. A boy comes in with his
apron full of beer, a bottle for each, and
they drink in characteristic German fashion
to the success of the work. It may be many
a day before such another lens is cast.

The quaint old city of Jena in the German
Grand Duchy of Saxe- Weimar is chiefly fa-
mous for three things. It has an unfading
claim on history because Napoleon once
marched through its streets and won a cele-
brated victory on the hills to the north — the
battle of Jena— and in the present it is known
the world over for its university and for its
glass and lenses. There are glass works, if
not lens manufactories, of far greater ex-
tent in America and in other parts of the
world than these of Jena, and yet Jena glass
and Jena lenses have their own unique claims
to distinction, especially among men of sci-
ence.

Not only in their processes of manufacture
and in the perfection of their products are
these works famous, but the management of
their business affairs furnishes a most unique
and fascinating study in social economy, for
liere the dream of an idealist has been given
unique and wonderfully practical application,
with the result that the workingmen of Jena
have opportunities and rewards unequalled,
perhaps, anywhere else in the world. And
curiously enough, owing to the mod-
esty of the originator of this scheme
for the elevation of the workingmen
and for the advancement of science,
very little has ever been published
about it, and nothing in English so far
as I can learn. With German con-
servatism. Professor Abbe has desired
to give his experiment the test of
years before recommending it by a
formally published account.

For many reasons it is not probable
that such institutions as these— for in
reality they partake as much of the
character of public institutions as of
regular business enterprises— could
have originated in America. They
would seem to be a product typically
German, a result in part of what may
be called the German scientific tem- •
perament, and in part of the wave of
commercial expansion now sweeping over
Germany. Many years ago Professor Abbe,
who then, as now, filled the chair of applied
mathematics, natural philosophy, and as-
tronomy in the University of Jena, became
deeply interested in lenses and lens-making. ^

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548

CASTING A GREAT LENS.

He had seen the defects of the lenses in use

for astronomical and microscopical work,

and he set himself to establish by purely

mathematical calculation

the exact curves at which
lenses would give the
greatest possible effect

• Far dayn and tcrekH workmen are employed in poli»hing it,

with regard to the refraction and dispersion
of the light which passed through them. In
other words, he sought to form a new and sci-
entific theory for making lenses. He then
interested himself in the modest lens works
of Carl Zeiss, of Jena, and here he had lenses
made according to exact scientific methods.
Before his time lens-making was largely a
matter of experience and experiment on the
part of highly skilled workmen. Professor
Abbe succeeded in laying down exact mathe-
matical formulae.

But it was not long before he discovered
that a complete revolution in glass-mak-
ing was necessary in order to accomplish
the great results at which he was aiming.
The task seemed to be insurmountable, but
it did not daunt him. His first step was to
interest Dr. Schott, of Witten, in the work.
Dr. Schott was not only a thorough scientist,
especially in chemistry, but he possessed a
technical knowledge of glass-making, as it
was then conducted. In 1 881 the first smelt-
ing experiments were made in a small labo-
ratory erected in Jena for that purpose.
There was a deliberate plan on the part
of the two scientists to solve by scientific
methods the difficult problems of glass-mak-
ing, though they involved not only the most
advanced optical research, but the most diffi-
cult chemical and technical manipulations.

Almost at once they began to get promising

results, and after two years they were pre-
pared to carry on their experiments on a
larger scale, but this they did not have tbe
means to do. In America or in Borland tbe
work might have failed just at this poinL
but in Germany help came as help rardj
comes outside of Germany. Professor Abbe

laid his results
before the Pm^
sian g^overn-
ment, showed
what had heen
done, and v^haX
needed to he
done, and tbe
wide-reaching
effect which fa-
vorable results
might have in
every depart-
ment of science
— the possibf/ft^
of making mi-
croscopes, tele-
scopes, and pho-
tographic lenses
of hitherto nn-
equaled definition and power, and of prodac-
ing thermometer and barometer glass which
migh t advance the science of temperature a nd
pressure determination. The government at
once felt the commercial appeal. Germany
must needs buy all of her glass for scientific
purposes in Paris or in Manchester, and here
was an opportunity for building up a new in-
dustry which would employ German work-
men and bring money into Germany. So the
Prussian Government appropriated 30,000
marks ($7,500) in 1883, and the same amount
in 1884, to have the experiments carried for-
ward. At the end of that time, so success-
ful were the investigators that a regular
glass-making establishment was well under
way, and there was no further need of gov-
ernmental assistance. In four years' time
these glass works furnished a large propor-
tion of the fine scientific and optical glass
used in Germany, and now their wares are
known everywhere in the world — in the form
of microscope and photographic lenses and
prisms, of thermometers, of chemical appa-
ratus, and of the highest grades of commer-
cial glass. This little story is especially in-
teresting as showing why Germany is making
such extraordinary strides in commercial
affairs. Out of science, assisted by the
state, has sprung a new and profitable in-
dustry.

In all, over one hundred ne^km^of ^ss

CASTING A GREAT LENS.

549

were originated and are now manufactured
at the Jena glass works. In former times
glass was composed almost entirely of the
silicates, potassium, lead, soda, and lime,
and there were, roughly speaking, only two
varieties : the old-fashioned standard crown
glass and flint glass. Professor Abbe and
Dr. Schott used no fewer than twenty-eight
new substances in glass-making : phosphorus,
borax, magnesium, zinc, cadmium, bis-
muth, iron, mercury, antimony, tin, and
others. Each of these substances has its
own peculiar effect in
the refraction and
dispersion of light,
and in doing away
with or lessening
what is known as the
secondary spectrum.
Much of the glass
thus produced has
been ground into
lenses at the Carl
Zeiss Works, and the
resulting microscopes
give a new impetus
to every department
of science which has
to do with minute
forms of matter or of
life. It would have
been impossible for
Dr. Koch and other
great contemporary
investigators in bac-
teriology, for in-
stance, to have made
the astonishing ad-
ditions to our knowledge of the life of
microbes and bacteria had not Professor
Abbe first produced a perfect or nearly per-
fect instrument for examining those low

PROFESSOR ERNST ABBE,

Univehhit*' of Jena.

From a jthotograph by Bmuntich.

The achievement of the investigators lay
not so much in producing microscope and
telescope lenses of higher magnifying power
— that service science did not need — but in
so perfecting the lenses that the image would
be clear and clean-cut, or, in the words of
the science, ** in securing perfect defini-
tion." A microscope which magnifies 4,000
times and produces such a blurred image
of a cell that the investigator cannot tell
whether or not it contains a nucleus, is not
as valuable to science as one that magnifies
500 times and brings
out every minute de-
tail distinctly and
sharply. And that is
also just the distinc-
tion between a good
and a poor photo-
graphic or telescope
lens. Professor Abbe
also introduced the
system of ** oil im-
mersion" and other
great microscope im-
provements. Indeed,
he may be justly called
*' the father of the
modern microscope."
Prom the investi-
gations thus begun in
a laboratory by Pro-
fessor Abbe and Dr.
Schott have sprung-
two great manufac-
turing plants, sepa-
rate and yet allied,
neither of which is
able to keep up with the present demand for
its product. We visited the Schott Works
on the hill above Jena, where all the new
varieties of glass are made, and afterwards

forms of life. In all of his published re- at the Carl Zeiss Optical Works we saw this

ports Dr. Koch as well as other scientists
give Professor Abbe a large share of the
credit for these profoundly important dis-
coveries in connection with the germ theory.
In the same way the Jena microscopes have
done wonders in the hands of such men as
Haeckel in laying bare the wonderful life
processes of the lowest forms of plant and
animal existence, in tracing the development
of each, and in forming the great chain of
proof of the theory of evolution. In the
same way our present minute knowledge of
embryology and the growing mastery of the
details of that marvelous machine, the hu-
man body, are due to the efforts of that
modest, hard-working professor of Jena.

glass ground and polished with infinite care
and precision into lenses and prisms.

In the manufacture of optical glass for
the microscope lenses— I have already de-
scribed the processes of making a great tel-
escope lens — the constituents of the glass
are mixed with great care under the super-
vision of expert chemists, then the heating
and stirring goes forward for several days,
until the glass is hardly thicker than water
and thoroughly mixed. After that it is
taken from the furnace and allowed to cool
in the crucible. Of course it cracks into
hundreds of pieces, some large and some
small. These pieces are carefully assorted,
and all the imperfections chipped off — we

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CASTING A GREAT LENS,

saw two men, their eyes protected by gog-
gleSy employed with hammers at this work.
It is interesting, and significant of the care
required in these processes, that in spite of
experience and the closest attention, more
than one-fifth of all the glass melted is regu-
larly rejected owing to imperfections. These
pieces of glass are now placed in a square
clay mold or ehamotte of just the size that
the future rough lens block is to be. Then
it is set aside in a furnace, where for a month
or six weeks it is slowly heated until it
softens down and fills the mold; then it is as
slowly cooled. It comes out looking like a
rough block of sanded glass. The polishers
now rub down two of the sides, until they
are perfectly clear and bright, so that one
may look straight through the block and
make the closest examination for flaws. The
best of this glass is as beautifully clear as a
jewel. There are a great variety of shades,
from purest white to the deep yellow of the
heavy lead glasses, the prices of some of the
glass reaching as much as $20 a pound. At
the lens manufactory this glass is ground
into lenses and prisms of every conceivable
size and form, some lenses being not larger
than a pin-head and as costly almost as a
diamond of the same weight. Great skill is
required in this work, because an error of
more than one ten-thousandth of a millimeter

In the Jena OIom Work: Blowing Chemical Qlau.

in the curve of a lens makes it unsuitable for
use in the highest grade of instruments.

Another picturesque feature of the glass
works is the great corridor where the ther-
mometer tubes are blown and drawn.

In the early days of its work the Reichs-
anstalt (with the governmental normal-
measure commission) joined with Professor
Abbe and Dr. Schott in trying to produce
more perfect glass for use in making ther-
mometers, the glass formerly used being
subject to the influence of heat and cold.
The result has brought all the world to
Germany for high-grade scientific thermom-
eters.

We saw this glass in process of manufac-
ture. A boy workman caught a bit of molten
glass from the furnace on the end of a blow-
pipe. It was hardly larger than a walnut,
but by twirling and blowing and molding, it
grew to the size of an orange, with the shape
of an acorn. More glass was then add^,
and there was more rolling and blowing, and
when the proper stage was reached the blow-
pipe was passed quickly to the brawny mas-
ter workman. He in his turn added glass,
blowing from time to time with cheeks
outpuffed until it seemed as though they must
burst,' and then rolling the great ball of glass
on his iron kneading boanl until it looked
like a huge yellow gourd. Faster and faster
he work^, keeping the ball always synmietri-
cal, and yet white-hot. At length he lifted
the glowing mass quickly in the air, and a
second workman attached his blow-pipe to
the bottom. Then the two men ran in op-
posite directions,
twirling the pipes
and blowing lust-
ily from time to
time. From a
thick, portly yel-
low globe the glass
thinned out quick-
ly as the men ran
apart, until it be-
came a dull red
tube not larger
than a man's little
finger, and nearly
300 feet long.
Sometimes in
drawing these
tubes one of the
blowers would not
only run the
length of the cor-
ridor, but far out-
side on the hill.
And that is the way a thermometer tube is
blown and drawn. It requires only a moment
in cooling, and then it is broken up into short
lengths and sent to the ovens for tempering
and annealing. In these rooms also are

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Blowing and DraiHng Thermometer Tube»—the Mo»t Pnr/ert in the World,

blown the finest glass for chemical apparatus,
for incandescent-gaslight chimneys — 30,000
of these per day — and for other purposes
requiring high-grade glass.

Both of these business institutions, founded
on scientific investigation, still continue their
scientific work. The lens manufactory has
no fewer than twenty scientists on its staff,
and the glass works has five, all thoroughly
schooled investigators and mostly university
doctors. These men devote their entire time
and attention to experimenting along chemi-

cal, optical, mathematical, and technical lines,
seeking to discover new processes and estab-
lish new principles which will be of value in
the business. In this way the whole institu-
tion is kept on a thoroughly scientific basis
and in the foremost van of progress. This
idea of a scientific staff for a business insti-
tution has its most perfect development in
Germany. Indeed, science lies at the root
of some of the most progressive and profit-
able business enterprises in the empire.
The lens manufactory, especially, has its

562

CASTING A GREAT LENS.

own unique methods of doing business. A
large telescope is looked upon as an artist
would look upon his newest picture. It must
be as perfect as it can be made, time and
cost of materials notwithstanding, and when
it is finished it is billed on the basis of its
cost. Cheap instruments are made to pro-
vide work and training for the younger and
less experienced workmen. And yet so great
is the demand for the fine products of the
factory that it cannot be supplied. Curi-
ously enough, also, no patents are taken on
instruments and processes, like microscopes
and microscope attachments, which are used
solely for the advancement of science, the
men behind this unique institution having
their hearts too deeply set on the advance-
ment of human knowledge to hinder it by
monopolies. The product of high-grade mi-
croscopes alone at this factory is over 1,800
a year, and each microscope comprises the
work in some detail of over fifty men.

And now I come to what is, perhaps, the
most interesting feature of all in these as-
tonishing business enterprises, the feature
which makes the lens manufactory in par-
ticular really more of a public institution
than an enterprise for private gain.

Professor Abbe lives just across the street
from the huge buildings of the lens manu-
factory. His home is a little one-and-a-half-
story building, old-fashioned and German-
like. It is thickly surrounded with trees
and shrubs, and laid out with flower beds.
At the time I saw it the lilacs were in full
bloom, and the fragrance, drifting across
the street, filled the rooms where the glass
polishers bent low to their work. Here Pro-
fessor Abbe has worked year by year, in his
favorite fields of optics, mathematics, social
economy, invention; and although now well
along in years, he is not lacking in his zest
for new and more difficult problems. Every
summer he takes a short vacation in Switzer-
land, where the people of the village at
which he stays know him merely as ** the
German professor." Thus quietly he has
lived, watching the factories rise around him
and win him a fortune. Prom the first he
was deeply interested in the welfare of the
workingman — an interest hardly second to
his love for science— and out of this interest
grew the Carl Zeiss Stiftung (Institution),
named from his friend, Carl Zeiss, which
now controls the entire lens manufactory
with its 1,200 or more workmen and owns a
half interest in the glass works with its 400
workmen.

The Stiftung is unique among institutions.

It is the creation of a law of which Profeoeor
Abbe was the author, and it is in the nature
of a corporation under state control. To
this Stiftung Professor Abbe turned over all
his interest in both of the great plants at
Jena, retaining only a directorship. A com-
missioner of the grand duchy visits the
works every week and assists the local
directors in carrying out the tenets of the
law. The purpose of the Stiftung is two-fold.
First, it provides for the comfort of the per-
sonnel of the works from the directors to
the lowest apprentice boy, by means of a
unique system of pensions, sick benefits,
profit sbuing, and educational advantages.
Secondly, it provides for large contributions
toward the advancement of science. No one
connected with the institution receives any
of the private profits of ownership. Pro-
fessor Abbe himself receives merely the sal-
ary of a director, which, according to the law
controlling the Stiftung, can never be more
than ten times the average salary of th€
" standard " workman of the shop — the work
man who is more than tweuty-four years oi
age and for more than four years in the ser-
vice of the firm. This standard workman
now receives less than $500 a year. But
Professor Abbe is entitled to a pension when
he shall cease his active connection with the
business, the same as every other employee.
If it should be absolutely necessary to die-
charge a workman, he must not only ba
given due notice, but the Stiftung must pay
him, if he has been employed for more than
three years, a sum equal to his total wages
for from six months to two years, according
to the length of time he has been in the
works. And after five years* service every
workman who retires for age or invalidity
receives a pension, or should he die, his
family is pensioned. In this way he is abso-
lutely secure in his work. The Stiftung sets
aside a certain definite sum from its earn-
ings every year, and this is so invested out-
side of the business that it will pay all pen-
sions and discharge advances, thus making
the pension system independent of the vicis-
situdes of the business, for even though the
business failed, the money would be on hand
to pay the regular pensions of old and faith-
ful servants. Every workman is given a two
weeks' vacation every year with pay for half
of it, and he is also paid in full for all holi-
days except Sundays. Moreover, the whole
lens manufactory, with Professor Abbe at its
head, is like a great family. Every month
a delegate from each of the departments,
thirty in a^l, meets with the directors and dis-

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CASTING A GREAT LENS.

553

Blovrtng Ineandetteent-lamp Chimneyt.

cusses the conduct of the work. These dele-
gates are never foremen, but represent the
men themselves, and the suji^gestions they
make are from their own point of view, not
from that of the foreman. Last spring the
subject of shorter hours of labor came up,
a subject of which Professor Abbe and the
other directors had already been thinking.
The workmen delegates to the conference
suggested eight and one-half hours a day :

the directors promptly responded, ** Why not
try eight hours ? " Every workman was ques-
tioned, and six-sevenths of them asserted that
they could do as much work in eight hours,
working faster, than they could in the longer
day. Lens grinding is very confining work,
especially fatiguing to the eyes, and even
more so to the nerves. So on April 1, 1900,
the experiment of an eight-hour day— a very
great innovation in Germany— was begun.

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CASTING A GREAT LENS.

If at the end of one year it is successful,
the plan will be continued indefinitely. The
hours of work are now from 7 to 11.30 a.m.
and from 1.30 to 5 p.m., the long nooning
giving the men ample time to go home to
dinner and to rest thoroughly for the after-
noon's work. Director Fischer informed me
that the plan so far as it had been tried was
a great success, fully as much work being
accomplished in the short day as had hitherto
been accomplished in the long day, and he
thought that the work was of better quality,
although the experiment had not then been
in progress long enough to permit of posi-
tive assertions.

In addition to these advantages to the per-
sonnel within the works themselves, the
Stif tung has spent large sums of money in
other directions. I visited an extensive and
highly popular free reading-room, said to be
the largest institution of its kind in Ger-
many, the Germans having always depended
on the cafes for their periodical literature.
A fine library building to contain a good col-
lection of books as well as this reading-room
is soon to be constructed. The Stif tung also
contributes largely to the local hospitals that
its workingmen may be cheaply treated; it
has established special courses of instruction
for its men in mathematics, physics, draw-
ing, mechanics, and in the German, English,
and French languages; it has instituted a
free swimming bath in the Saale River ; and
it is helping to build walks and summer
houses along the mountain-sides and in the
forests around the town — those strolling
and social spots which a German so dearly
loves.

All of these advantages help to attract to
the lens manufactory an unusually intelligent
and productive class of workmen — and indeed
for these fine operations great intelligence
is required. So far as possible young men
are taken and specially trained to the re-
quirements of lens-making, and as they grow
older, the cumulative advantages of the pen-
sion and profits system, as well as the short
hours, tend to keep them where they are,
even though tempted elsewhere by oflFers of
higher wages.

These are by no means all the advantages
which the Stif tung offers its workingmen,
but they will suflice to indicate its purposes

in this direction. In its other activities,
science has already felt the influence of the
Stiftung. It has established and equipped
a fine astronomical observatory in the Uni-
versity of Jena, it has founded a new chair
of mathematical physics, and will build a fine
laboratory for experimental physics, and it
is a large contributor yearly to other de-
partments of investigation at the university.
Nor are its interests confined alone to Jena,
but extend to science in general, even to the
considerable assistance of a recent Polar ex-
pedition. Such activities as these, and they
are as much a part of the business of the
Stiftung as the making of glass and lenses,
seem odd enough as looked upon from the
exceedingly practical point of view of ordi-
nary business life.

The Stiftung has now been in existence
nine years with great succe^. The profits
of the business have been large, and its ac-
tivities in science and in benevolence have
been correspondingly large. It was the
state that helped the work in the beginning
by its liberal contributions of money, and
enabled Professor Abbe and his associates
to carry on their experiments, and now the
German people, and, in fact, humanity in gen-
eral, are reaping the reward. And in case
the Stiftung should ever go out of business,
for whatever reason, one-half of the pro-
ceeds remaining after the debts are paid
will go to the city of Jena, to be used for
the good of its inhabitants, and one-half to
the University of Jena. Not a cent is re-
served for private disposal.

Professor Abbe devotes most of his time
to the working out of this great philan-
thropic idea. Anticipating, at the time he
drew up the law governing the Stif timg, that
forethought could not provide for every pos-
sible condition, he reserved to himself the
right, until the year 1906, to make changes
in the statute. In this way he is able to
correct any errors or injustices as time and
experience point them out. After 1906,
however, there can be no more changes : the
law will be absolute and perpetual, and as
long as lenses are made at the Carl Zeiss
Works, so long will its workmen enjoy ad-
vantages almost without equal anywhere in
the world, and so long will science have a
strong and faithful ally.

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THE HORSE-THIEF.

now THE LIVE-STOCK EXPERT AND HIS PARTNER CAME TO

LEAVE MONTANA.

By E. Hough,

Author of "The Story of the Cow-boy."

With Pictures by H. R. Poore.

"VrOU may see Dick Wilson almost any day
i at the Union Stock Yards. Every
morning he climbs up on the fence near the
car tracks, and sits looking out over the
tossing sea of heads and horns and manes.
You might niark the horseman in his atti-
tude, for he sits the fence sstride, as though
he feared it might begin ^o pitch. As to
his being a horse-thief, he does not look the
part. He wears a ** hard hat,'' and not a
wide sombrero. His mustache is not dark
and sweeping, but, on the contrary, stubby
and hay- colored. His eye is not dark, fur-
tive, and evasive ; but open, blue, and direct.
You would not call him a horse-thief, if only
for the reason that you would feel sure he
might resent with a certain asperity any
suggestion to that effect.

Dick Wilson, in the language of the yards,
** knows his business,'' and he is one of the
most valued inspectors stationed there in
the interests of the Western live-stock asso-
ciations. These men of the yards are deeply

versed in occult science. The buyer of hogs
can place his hands upon the fair round back
of any given swine, and forthwith tell you
from what State it came, and whether it was
fed upon corn or acorns. The inspector of
horses and cattle can tell by a look at a
roughened blotch of hair upon an animal's
hide from what far-off chain of foot-hills and
coulees it has come; for the map of the
West, and the registered brands thereof,
are written deeply upon his mind. The
brands are the signs manual of the Medes
and Persians ; and if there are chirographic
irregularities upon the parchment of a cow,
who should be so quick to note and trace
them as he who has in his time been Mede
and Persian ? Dick Wilson is now an in-
spector because he once was horse-thief.
He is also one because he is perfectly hon-
est. Your Kentucky single-footer would be
quite safe with him ; and so would your wife
and family, your gold, your jewels. He
would not steal, and every one knows that g

556

THE HORSE-THIEF.

he would not. That is one of the facts
which give additional interest to his own
story regarding certain incidents of his
earlier life.

*' The only way to do, when you are run-
ning off a bunch of horses/' said he, as he
sat upon his fence one morning, " is to start
'em good an' fast, an' keep 'em a-goin\
You ride just as far as you can, all that day
an' all that night ; ride till you can't go any
further. Then git up an' ride twenty miles
further yet. The fellers that's a-follerin'
you will stop short of that last twenty miles,
an' that's where you git your start. Of
course, they've got a good deal of interest
in them horses, an' in you, but they ain't
got near as much as you have.

**The time me an' Jim Mulhally run off
the bunch I was tellin' about, we was broke,
an' had to make a raise. We figgered around
quite a while before we decided where to
start in. Of course, you've got to know
where to start, and where you allow to come
out. In them days there wasn't much wire
fences an' you could ride most anywheres.
The grangers hadn't come in much yet.

** Now, nobody but a horse-thief would
just take the first bunch of horses he come
acrost. Of course, Jim an' me, we didn't
want to take no horses from anybody that
needed them. But we finally located a new
horse ranch up in Montanny, run by a couple
of tenderfeet from Boston. Them fellers
had a heap more horses than they needed,
an' money that was scandalous. They was
breedin' hackneys, or roadsters, or some-
thing of that sort, out in Montanny, allowin'
they could sell 'em plenty down East. I
reckon some of them horses was roadsters,
too, before we got through with 'em.

'* There was really four of us that started
on this trip, me an' Jim an' Bill Waters an'
Willie Anderson. Of course, we didn't act
like fools, an' just go in there for a few
days, an' then disappear, through a act of
Providence, about the same time some fel-
ler's horses was a-disappearin' too. We
was in that little town several weeks, an'
Jim, he got hisself put up to be elected
county assessor. We never did wait for the
election, but we shore was leadin' citizens
while we stayed there.

** I don't know how it is, but some way it
seems like a feller may be square, an' all
right, an' look like he has plenty of sense,
yet every once in a while he'll turn loose an'
do some fool thing or other that'll spoil every
single chance he's got. It was a good deal
that way with us. Just along about the

time we allowed we'd make our startj)n our
trip, why, we fellers, all four of us, we got
to f oolin' around dowb at the saloon one day,
an' we wound up by gittin' some elevated,
right when we'd ort to been sober as judges,
every one of us.

" They was a sort of theayter just started
there in that town, an' the people was
mighty proud of this here theayter, an' had
just got in a right strong actor outfit for
to open up the place. These here folks,
they had just come into town, an' they was
a-goin' to start up that very night. It was
us four leadin' citizens that kep the openin'
from comin' off, an' I don't think we done
right. Really, it was mostly the fault of
Jim. He allowed he was assessor, or was
due to be right soon, an' so he had some
privileges. He allowed it would be about
right for us to go up back of the stage an'
git the clothes of them actor folks, they not
havin' come down to the theayter yet that
night for to begin actin'. We done so.

** I suppose maybe it was all right for Jim
to dress up in them clothes, but I thought at
the time he looked right singular as he rid
down the street in the moonlight. We other
fellers didn't dress up, but we each tied a
bunch of them fancy clothes behind our sad-
dles, some men's clothes, an' maybe some
women's. We wasn^t very particular.

** We all rid out in the country a little
ways, an' come together to sort of figger it
over. Jim he said that if we was goin' to
run off a bunch of horses, we might as well
begin that night as any time, for we never
would be fixed up any better than we was
then. He said we could go disguised. I
reckon maybe he'd read a^ut such things
somewhere ; or it might have been just one
of his jokes. He said he didn't believe they'd
elect him assessor now, anyhow. They ain't
so particular out there as they are here ; but
I never did think a county assessor, even in
a cow town, ort to ride down the public
street with a sort of gauze frill stickin' out
around his saddle, an' a pair o' imitation
wings growin' out of his back. ' Look at
me,' says Jim; 'I'm Cupid. An' I allow
I'm about the d— dest best Cupid that ever
hit this range.' That ain't no way for a
assessor to act, even allowin' Cupid ort to
wear long-shanked spurs.

** Well, we rounded up the bunch we was
after, somewhere long about midnight. They
was 214 head in all, though some of 'em was
mares an' colts we didn't have time to cut
out. We headed 'em south, an' away we
went, a-jumpin' an' a-flyin' . >Xou talk about

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557

cavalry ! I jolly, I can see that now ! * ' Dick
half leaned forward and his band gripped
the fence rail.

" It was right bright moonlight when we
started, an' we could see the whole bunch
clear as day. Off on our right was the big

'em close an' kep 'em straightened out in
front.

'' The sight of the dust risin' in the moon-
light, an' the sound of the feet of so many
horses, put me in mind of a stampede of
cows. Every once in a while 1 could hear

' Tht Bight of the duat rtain* in the moonlight, an' the aound of the feet of to many horae»,put me in mind of a stampede o/cmoB."

mountains, standin' up white an' sort of
solemn-like. You know how them moun-
tains makes a feller feel. Why, a feller
couldn't do a low-down thing while the moun-
tains was a-keepin' tab on him! We was
just east of the foot-hills, in a wide sort of
valley, an' the way we laid out to go was
right down that valley, south of the Bear
Paws, an' on across to the Bighorn Basin,
where we thought we knew about what to
do with our stock. We was in a hurry,
of coarse, an' we had plenty to keep us
busy. Willie an' Bill they kep 'em com-
\n' from behind, an' Jim an' me bunched

Willie an' Bill give a yell, an' then Jim would
answer, an' I would see him edge a little
further front on the point at his end of the
herd. I couM always see him easy, on ac-
count o' the light clothes he had on. He
come over to me durin' the night, an' he
says to me, * Press where you see my white
wings shine amid the thick of war ! ' Then
he laughed. He was a funny sort of fellow ;
but he shore was a straight-up rider.

** I'm tellin' you, we only hit the trail in

the high places that night. Along about

daybreak the horses begun to tire a little.

Willie an' Bill wanted to turn <1»^ an' sleep

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THE HORSE-THIEF,

a while, but me an' Jim knew that wouldn't
do. We all roped fresh horses an* changed
saddles, an' kep the bunch goin' till noon.
Some of the colts had dropped out before that,
an' a good many of the mares was hard to
handle, but we must have had near two hun-
dred head left. We kep' pushin' 'em on, fast
as they could go, for we was afraid some of
them folks back to the town might be lookin'
for their candidate for assessor, an' we knew
they'd more'n likely be touchy about our
breakin' up the show. We didn't stop till
night. Then we rested about a hour, on a
little creek bottom, where they was some
feed. Jim was still stickin' to his actor
clothes. He said he liked 'em. ' They don't
hamper the fore-movement o' my manly
form,' says he.

" All night we kep' movin', though we was
all pretty tired by now. The fellers up there
did foller us, we heard afterwards, but they
never got beyond our first camp. We rid
all the next mornin', too, till we come to a
big basin that used to be called Squaw Flats.

*'The last time we was in there, three
years before, there wasn't a granger within
a thousand miles of there; but now, what
do you think ? Some fool land company or
other had planted a colony of Norwegians
in there. An' blame me, if they hadn't put
up houses an' started ranches ; an' right at
the time we struck in there, they was
a-holdin' some sort of a doin's they called
a hay festival. I don't understand all about
them foreign customs, but them folks, they
had several loads of hay drawed up in line,
an' they probable elected the best-lookin'
gal in the outfit for to be the hay queen, or
somethin' of that sort. They was a mighty
homely-lookin' set of women, anyhow.

** We left Willie an' Bill a ways back to
hold our herd in some coulees out of sight,
an' Jim an' me we rid in among the for-
eigners to see what was goin' on. Jim was
riled at seein' this granger outfit in there.
He rid up alongside the men folks an' al-
lowed that he was the only legitimate queen
o' the May then an* there present on the
Squaw Flats. * I wouldn't say this if I didn't
have the wings to back it,' says he, * but I
shorely must insist I'm a heap lovelier 'n
any one o' these moharries here.' An' he
gives his wings a flip, to make 'em show up
good. They wasn't one of them fellers de-
nied what he said. They looked some suspi-
cious at his clothes. I reckon they didn't
understand our customs any more'n we did
their' n. One of them men folks, a old-look-
in' sort of feller, with pink whiskers, he says

to his old woman, says he, * Mary, I tank
way badder go back to Duloot! '

*' We tried to sell them fellers some horses,
but they wouldn't buy none, an' they didn't
seem to understand nothin'. We got out of
'em at last that they had come in from the
new railroad ; which was shore news to us.
We hadn't heard of any railroad up in there.
It was that line up from Newbraska. That
settled us. ' By Jinks,' says Jim, ' I'll bet
a hundred dollars they'll telegraph from Bear
Paw down the trail, an' we got to cross this
here new road!' An' that was just what
did happen, too.

" It was a low-down thin^ to do, that
telegraphin', an' that was one of the rea-
sons we left that country. We see a honest
man couldn't hardly make a livin' there any
more.

** We, that is, me an' Jim, we rid back
from the hay festival to where Willie an'
Bill was a-holdin' the herd. We knew it
was a rather ticklish place we was in, an'
it was goin' to take hard ridin' to git out.
Bill he was sort of sick, an' near played
out, and Willie he allowed he couldn't leave
Bill. They was sort of partners, same as
me an' Jim. We saw we'd have to split up
here, for Bill couldn't ride so hard as we'd
likely have to. We hadn't figgered on ever
goin' much farther than right where we was
then. Jim fixed it up. He said :

*' * I'll tell you how to do this. These
Swedes haven't seen you boys yet at all.
Now, we'll start the herd full pelt and cross
the flat right by their d—d hay outfit. You
an' Bill, you come on after us, a-chasin' us
and a-shootin', like you was tryia' to catch
us. When you get to the Swedes, you pull
up, an' tell 'em we are two horse-thieves
that's run off a big bunch from up country,
an' that you've been follerin' us for three
days. It'll take that outfit about ten hours
to git it through their heads, an' that'll give
us some chance. You two fellers stop here,
then, and do just the best you can. As for
Cupid, he ain't never a-goin' to stop.'

** We done it that way. We come out
on to the flat a-whoopin' an' a-goin', Willie
an' Bill behind, a-shootin' and yellin', like
they was crazy to catch up with us. We
shore stampeded the hay festival. Jim an*
me didn't stop to learn how it all come out,
but we learned later that Willie and Bill
took the first train as soon as they found
the new railroad, an' got out to Omaha all
right.

** Jim an' me, we traveled a day an' m'ght
from Squaw Flats, an' then we crossed the

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* We come out on to the fiat a-whoopfn' an* a-goin*. . . . We shore atampeded the hayfettival !

new railroad in the night, an' headed south-
west, square for the Red Desert of Wyomin'.
Then it was a good deal like a dream, for
that was the awfullest ride I ever had in all
my life. Our horses died all along the trail,
one after another, an' all they could do was
to walk. We kep *em goin' all we could,
ridin' among them, an' shootin' down the
ones we saw was goin' to drop soon. We
lived on horse meat for days, for we hadn't
anything else to eat. When we struck good
feed and water for the stock we hadn't over
forty head left, an' we didn't care whether
school kep or not. Jim was wore down to
skin and bones, an' his face was cracked and
split with the alkali, the same as mine, an' hp
couldn't hardly talk some days ; but he never
did weaken, an' he stood watch fair when it
come his turn, an' he wouldn't have gone to
sleep if he'd a-died standin'. An' all along
the ride he stuck to his actor clothes, partly
because he didn't have any others unless I
give him some of mine, but mostly because
of devilment. I let him have both saddle
blankets at night, for he said there wasn't
much warmth in his wings. ' The feller that
built those here wings didn't gauge 'em for
this altitood, I reckon,' says he.

" We knew we had to do business right
soon if we ever did at all, for what with

this telegraph keepin' us movin' so far, our
stock was so foot-sore an' wore down that it
couldn't travel no further. We kep on the
best we could, but we wasn't averagin' ten
mile a day, an' a-losin' a horse nigh about
every mile, you might say.

** We was now a long step from Montanny,
an' we finally allowed we'd head for the
Green River settlements, where the Mor-
mons was, thinkin' we could maybe ship our
stock by the ' U. P.' from there, where no-
body knowed us, an' nobody couldn't have
heard of us. It was a long pull, an' mighty
hard on our property, but we finally got in
on the Green River.

** The day we was to strike the railroad
at the Mormon settlements, we met a feller
ridin' out a little way from the railroad sta-
tion, an' we stopped a while to pass the time
o' day. He looked right careful at our out-
fit, an' finally Jim asked him who he was.

*' ' I'm the sherf,' said he, quiet like.

*' ' Oh, yop be ? ' says Jim.

'* * Yep,' says he. ' Who are you ? '

"'Well,' says Jim, a-throwin' one leg
acrost his saddle, ' I started out as Cupid;
but I allowed, if we hadn't of met you, I'd
a-rid into that there town and seen if I
couldn't pass for the departed^perrit of
Joseph Smith.' r. , u (

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THE HORSE-THIEF,

'*Tbe sherf he laughed. *I know who
you are,* said he.

•**How?' said Jim.

" * Story come out from the Swede settle-
ments on the Squaw Flats that the Angel
Gabriel had come through there in a hurry,
headed south. Description was some like
your'n. It was telegrafted all over. Do
you know what you two fellers done ? '

** * You're a white man, friend,* said Jim,
' if you are a sherf.' So we both shook
hands with him. ' I come mighty nigh bein'
a assessor,' said Jim; so he told how that
was. I thought the sherf would die a-laugh-
in' at Jim. It was him that got Jim some
clothes. ' ril bet a thousand dollars,' says
the sherf, * that you're the first cow-puncher
that ever rid acrost the Red Desert in pink

^ikJ^k

"«^^S;'i

trJ^

' But ifuu ttett/ellern, if I irtu ifou, I Mirre Fdjust take the train out to-night. Ton needuU mention mertin* me,* **

'''No. Why?' says Jim.

" ' Why, half that colony went back home.
Country seemed a little swift for them, I
reckon,* says the sherf.

** * Maybe «o,' says Jim.

" * Is this all the horses you've got left ? '
asked the sherf, an' we told him yes. He
asked us if it was true we'd come all the
way from Montanny since the first of July,
an' we told him yes. He set down then an'
sort of reflected some. * Boys,' says he, at
last, * I expect you'd better leave the stock
in here. I'll have 'em took care of till their
feet and legs gets a chance to grow out, an'
that'll be time enough to talk about sendin'
'em back up the range. But you two fel-
lers, if I was you, I believe I'd just take the
train out to-night. You needn't mention
meetin' me.'

chaps and with speckled wings a-growin out
of his shoulders ! ' And I reckon like enough
that's so.

** But wasn't that a pore round-up for a
whole season's work ? We didn't git more'n
forty head through, an' they wouldn't of
brought four dollars a head. That's a fact."

Apparently regarding his story closed, the
inspector started to climb down from the
fence, but upon expostulation tarried long
enough to tell something further of the fate
of Jim.

*• Why, Jim," said he, *' he went up into
the Black Hills country, not long after that,
an' he stayed there quite a while, punchin'
cows for the Open A Six outfit. One day he
was in to town at the railroad, an' he nin
acrost a outfit of movers who was comin*
in through there with a team an' wagon.

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They was a pore, broken-down lot, the horses
near played out, the man down sick, an' the
women folks half starved. They hadn't a
thing to eat, an' they was a-settin' out there
on the edge of the town, waitin' to starve to
death, or else waitin' till some of them town
folks would come out an' give them a bite to
eat; an' I reckon one'd catch 'em about as
quick as the other. Jim come up and talked
with 'em, an' saw how it was. He didn't say
much, but he turned around an' rid out of
town about a couple of miles, till he come
up with a good fat yearlin' runnin' out on
the range. He draws down an' kills the
yearlin', an' cuts off a quarter, an' takes it
up in front of him on his saddle, to carry it
back to this here pore outfit, a-settin' there
by the road, without ambition enough to go
out and rustle a little meat for theirselves.

*' Now here was where the fool side of
Jim come in again. It wasn't rainin' that
day, nor lookin' anything like rain. But
Jim, he had a big pommel slicker tied on to

his saddle, an' he got this slicker an' put it
on, an' pulled it down over the quarter of
yearlin' that he was carryin' up in front of
him on the saddle. Jim told me, the last
time I seen him in the pennetentuary, that he
done that just for the sake of appearances,
realizin' that times had changed. Well, they
had. He hadn't much more'n dumped the
meat off his saddle in front of the movers'
wagon, before the town marshal come out
an' arrested him for concealin' stolen goods,
or somethin' of that sort. You ort to see
some of them statutes made an' pervided
out West now. You can't look cross-eyed
at even a beef critter without gittin' in jail.
There never was a squarer man throwed a
leg over a saddle than this same Jim Mul-
hally, but here they put him in jail. But
say," the inspector added suddenly and ear-
nestly, "Jim's time is nearly out. Can't
we git him a job here, somehow ? You can
see for yourself there ain't no chance for a
whit« man out in God's country any more."

SOME LESSONS OF THE WAR»

BASED ON ENGLAND'S EXPERIENCE IN THE SOUTH AFRICAN

CAMPAIGN.

By >. CoNAN Doyle.

Editor's Note. — The following article is taken from Dr. Doyle's book, "The Great Boer War," pub-
lished by McClnre, Phillips & Go. It is of interest particularly to Americans, because the lessons learned by
Great Britain in Sonth Africa are the same as we learned in the Spanish and Filipino wars. The problems now
confronting Great Britain and the United States as to the reorganizatfon of the army are also similar.
Both nations have learned some things and ought to profit by them in future. Dr. Doyle was with Uie British
army as a surgeon during most of the important fighting. He writes with knowledge and great candor. His
history of the war is by far the ablest contribution to literature on this great event in modem British history.

THE very first of all the lessons of the
war, as it seems to me, is that there
must be no more leaving of the army en-
tirely to the professional soldier and to the
official, bat that. the general public must
recognize that the defense of the empire is
not the business of a special warrior caste,
but of every able-bodied citizen. It is an
enervating thing for a nation when it comes
to be accepted that its protection depends
upon a small special class. With modem
weapons every brave man with a rifle is a
formidable soldier, and there is no longer
the need for a hard training and a rigid dis-
cipline which ex4sted when men fought in
platoons and performed complicated evolu-

tions upon the field of battle. With his pen,
with his voice, and with his rifle every man
who has the privilege of a vote must do what
he can to strengthen the fighting force of
his country. How many criticisms made by
civilians in the last few years have been
proved by the stem test of this war to have
been absolutely justified! It is the fresh
eye, undimmed by prejudice or tradition,
which is most likely to see clearly. From
the War Office, declaring that infantry and
not cavahry were necessary for the cam-
paign, to the general on the spot who con-
sidered that with 10,000 men he could march
lO Pretoria, our professional soldiers have
not. shown that they weie endowed with

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SOME LESSONS OF THE WAB.

dear visicm. In the face of their manifest
blunders and miscalculations^ a civilian need
not hesitate to express his own opinion. A
few strong impresdons were left upon my
mind by what I heard and saw of the war^
and these, for better c^* worse^ I shall en-
deavor here to place upon record.

One of the most certain lessons of the war,
as regards ourselves, is once for all to re-
duce the bugbear of an invasion of Great
Britain to an absurdity. With a moderate
efficiency with the rifle the able-bodied popu-
lation of this country could, without its fleet
and without its professional soldiers, defy
the united forces of Europe. A country of
hedgerows would wi& modem weapons be
the most terrible entanglement into which
an army could wander. The advantage of
the defense over the attack, and of the sta^
tionary force against the one which has to
move, is so enormous, and has been so fre-
quently proved by the Boers against our-
selves, as well as by ourselves against the
Boers, that the man who still dreads the in-
vasion of Kent or Sussex must be either the
most nervous or the most stupid of his sex.
So much national consolation can we draw
from the ordeal through which we have

While we can depend for the defense of
our own shores upon some developed system
of militia and volunteers, we can release for
the service of the empire almost all the pro-
fessional soldiers. The lesson of the war,
as I read it, is that it is better and cheaper
for the country to have fewer soldiers which
shall be very highly trained than many of a
mixed quj^lity. If, in order to secure that
keenness and individual push and intelligence
which modern warfare demands, you have
to pay your soldier half a crown or three
shillings a day, you can by securing a higher
type do with fewer numbers, and so save in
transport, clothing, accoutrements, and bar-
rack accommodation. At such a wage yon
could indc your men carefully, eliminate the
unfit, insist upon every man being a highly
proficiort marksman, and make dnminal
from the service a very real punishment.
In the wars of the future, wh^ a soMier
has to be conveyed to the center of Africa,
the interior of China, or the frontier of
Afghanistan, it is most necessary that the
army so conveyed should be of the highest
quality. It costs as much to conv^ and
feed a worthless man as a good one. If he
is not a dead shot with a rifle what is the
use of carryfaig him 7,000 miles in order to
place him in a firing line ? One man who

hits his mark outweighs ten who miaB it, and
only asks one-t^ith of the food and traoa-
port. If by paying three times as mudi ire
can secure that one man, it is an obvioos
economy to the country to do so. FJimhuite
the useless soldiers aiMl increase the pay of
the useful ones, ev^ if it reduces our army
to 100,000 men. With our reserves^ our
militia, and our volunteers we can always
fill up the rsmks if it is necessary to inereaae
their numbers.

To take the various arms of the service
in turn, our infantry has shown itself to be
as good as ever it was. The gen^^Is have
winced long before the soldicis have done
so, and wheth^ it was in such advances as
those of Talma Hill and ElanAshiagte, or in
such passive acceptance of puniAmeBt as
at Spion Kop (^ Mo<hier River, they have
shown all their old qualities of dask and
steadiness. Their spnrit was extraordiiiarily
good. I do not know where in our mflitary
history we can match the fact that the tro<^
who were hurled backwards at Colenso in
December, who were cut to pieces at Spion
Kop in January, who were driven off Val-
krantz early in February, were the same
men who went roaring over the Boer in-
trenchments in the last week of that month.
Noting could demoralize or even dishearten
them . As to their patient endurance of pain
and of hardship, one could not be a witness
to it in the hospitals without a higher sense of
the dignity of human nature. Their march-
ing was unexpectedly good. With burdens
of forty pounds they covered their twenty
miles a iaj with ease, and on occsunon they
rose to greater efforts. The forty miles
done by ti» Guards before Bloemfontetn,
and the marching of Yule's retiring colnrnn,
and of the Queenslanders and CamM^ans who
joined Pluraer before the relief of Mafeking,
were all very fine performances.

So much for the men themselves, but it is
in their training that there is the room for
criticism. The idea that an infant soldier
is a pikeman has never quite departed in ovr
army. He is still to march in step as the
pikemen did, to go steadily shoulder to shoul-
der, to rush forward with his pike advanced.
All this is medisefval and dangerous. There
is only one thing which wins a modem bat^
tie, smd that is straight shoothig. To hit
your enemy and to avoid being Ut yoursdf
are the two pomts of the garne^ and the (me
is as importaat as tiie other. After the lee-
sons wUeh we had in the first Boer war, the
musketry instraction in the British army has
been simply disgraceful. The nnmb^ of

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cartridges served out annually for practice
varies from fifty in the militia to 300 in a few
select regiments. Three thousand should be
the absolute minimum. If a man is not a
marksman he should be cast from the army;
for why should a useless man be paid and
fed by the country ?

The taking of cover, the most important
of all infantry exercises, appears to be even
more neglected than our musketry. In the
Salisbury Plain manoeuvers of 1898 I saw
with my own eyes lines of infantry standing
and firing upon each other at short ranges,
without rebuke either from their officers or
from the umpires. A colonel who stood
upon the position to be attacked, and praised
or blamed the company officers according to
their success in concealing their men in their
advance, would soon teach them to use cover.
A sleet of Mauser bullets has the same effect,
but it is hard that our peace training should
have so small a relation to war.

Intrenching also is one of the weak points
of our infantry. As Mr. Bennet Burleigh
has observed, the sappers have a bad influ-
ence upon the infantry, for they teach the
foot soldier that he will have things done
for him which he should be able to do for
himself. Every infantry officer should know
how to plan trenches, and every infantry
soldier how to make them. All through the
war our trenches have been the merest rab-
bit scratchings compared with those of the
amateur solders who were opposed to us.
Sometimes they were even ludicrous, like
some which I saw myself — in a position
which might well have been attacked — ^where
the sides of the loopholes in the piurapet
were made of empty jam pots. At Spion
Kop, at Reddersberg, at Nicholson's Nek,
at Lindley — on these and many other occa-
sions better intrenching would have saved
lives, if not the day.

Better shooting, better knowledge of cover
— these are the main desiderata in our in-
fantry. The latter will in the near future be
attained, I believe, by some portable bullet-
proof shield. There are many smaller im-
provements which will be wrought by the
war. Never again should the most valuable
lives be exposed by the fatuous idea of giv-
ing them a different dress. The officer will
carry a rifle like his men. And, above all,
the officer must take his profession more
seriously. He must remember that the lives
of his men are in his keeping, and that if
through any fault of his* they are lost his
guiltjis-not tar removed- from murder. A
braver nan than the British officer, or one

with a more indomitable and sporting spirit,
is not to be found. But he treats his work
too lightly. Military conversation, though
commoner than it once was, is still much
too rare. During six months' intercourse
with officers I have only once seen one of
them reading a professional book. Young
lawyers and young doctors cannot take their
profession in this dilettante spirit. As a
point of honor it is surely indefensible to
accept certain duties and to be paid for them
without carrying them out with all the in-
dustry and energy that is possible. A young
officer must remember that if he leaves all
the thinking to his superiors, and refuses to
use his own mind, he will have lost the power
of doing so by the time that he comes to be
a superior himself. Our junior company
officers should be constantly encouraged to
think and to act for themselves.

Passing on to the cavaliy, we come to the
branch of the service which appears to me
to be the most in need of reform. In fact,
the simplest and most effective reform would
be one which should abolish it altogether,
retaining the household regiments for public
functions. One absolutely certain lesson of
this war is that there is — outside the artil-
lery— only one weapon in the world, and
that weapon is the magazine rifle. Lances,
swords, and revolvers have only one place —
the museum. How many times was the lance
or the sword fleshed in this war, and how
many men did we lose in the attempts, and
how many tons of useless metal have our
overburdened horses carried about the coun-
try ? But if these various weapons are dis-
ciu^ed, and we come down to the uniformity
of the rifle, then of course we must teach
the trooper to use his rifle on foot and dress
him so that he can do so. So in an au-
tomatic and unavoidable way he becomes
mounted infantry.

But when I say mounted infantry, I do not
mean the vamped-up horseman who is con-
verted by battalions as Charlemagne con-
verted the Saxons. Considering his genesis,
this man has done very well; but, as Al-
brecht remarked, it is some time before he
has ceased holding his hat on. What 1 mean
are regiments of the type of the Imperial
Light Horse, as well horsed and as highly
trained in peace time as our cavalry are now.
We have not yet realized what first-class
mounted infantry can do, for we have never
trained any first-class mounted infantry.

When we compare the doings of cavalry
and of mounted infantry in this waT; f : must
rememb^«.tlHttMt*.is cot a fair comparison,

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SOME LESSONS OF THE WAB,

as tbe one force was highly trahied wfaUe
the other was rapidly improvised* But even
so the comparison may be sustained by the
junior branch. I have more tiian once asked
cavahry officers whether they conld point to
Q3By single exploit in the whole war which
coold not have been as well done by equally
well-hcHTsed mounted infantry. The relief
of Kimberley, the beading off of Crosje, the
pursuit sft^ Kandslaagte — ^there is not one
which is eesentiaUy a cavaby exploit. But,
on the other hand, the mounted infantry did
things which cavalry as at {oresent consti-
tuted coidd nev^ have done — such as tiie
ascent of Elandslaagte, or the surprise of
GunhiD. Let us preserve all our old his-
toric regimentSy with tiieir traditions and
their etjmt de corp$ — and let tiiem be called
cavalry also, if die name is dear to them —
but let them have onfy a rifle, and let them
be trained to fight on foot. Then, if less
ornamental, they will become more work-
manlike and more formidable. Boer tactics
with British courage would make a combina-
tion which would carry everything before it.

In dealing with our artillery it must be
acknowledged that for personal gallantry
and for general efficiency th^ take tbs honors
of the campaign. Nothing could exceed tbe
devotion with which officers and men stood
to their guns under the most deadly fire.
The accuracy of our shootmg left something
to be desired, but in some actions it reached
a very high standard.

Our gunners, however, were always from
the beginning paying the penalty odf being
the attacking party. As a rule they were
firing at guns which were in a position higher
than their own, and they were continually
engaging guns which they could not see.
That the Boers were at the beginning of the
war able to bring on to the Iratttlefield very
much heavier guns than we could set against
them must have been foreseen by our mili-
tary authwitiee, who knew, by the report
of the Intelligence Department, that they
possessed four heavy Creusots and sixteen
4.7 howitaers. To some extent these w«re
neutraKaed by our own use of naval guns —
a most tengerous and hand-to-mouth expedi-
ent. Outskle these special guns, which were
not field guns at all, our IS-pounders were
as good as anything which the Bo^rs could
set agai]»t them. In quality of ammunition
we iMd an immense advantage. Had tbe
Boer forces been as good as their guns and
their gunners our losses wouM — especially
in the early part of the war — have been
much more severe.

We imagined tint we poaseowd anothtf
advantage in the possession of lyddite, but
it appears that a car^uI inquiry should be
made into this substance before we eomndi
ourartilleryfurth^ toitsuse. Itsdestimc-
tive power upon bmldings, etc^ is bejrond
doubt, but it is by no means equalfy &itai
when used against troops in an open forma-
tion. I have spoken to several Boeca upon
the subject, and none of them expressed &
high opinion of it. We imagined that there
was a condderable area of destruction round
each bursting shell, but I know of lU; l^tst
one case where a shell burst witiiin sev^i
yards of a man, with no w(»rse effect than to
give him a bad headache.

But the very great advantage which tiie
Boers possessed — one which enabled half a
dozen Boer guns to hoM as many British bat-
teries— was that tiieir cannon were as invni-
ble as their rifles. The first use which a
Boer makes of his guns is to conceal then.
The first use which a British major makes of
his is to expose them in a straight line, witli
conreet interspaces, each gun so near its
neighbor that a lucky shell Sopping between
them might cripple the crews of eadt. The
artillery are a hig^ educated scisBtific
corps, 80 tbe outside must conclude that
there is some deep reason for this arrange-
ment; but whatever the reason ma^ be^ it
most certainly does not apply to a wzr like
this. From first to last it has pot us at a
most serious disadvantage. Sometimes it is
unavoidable that the attacking force «ho«ld
be in the open, but it is seldom tiiat sone
broken ground, bushes, bowlders, w oth^
cover cannot be found if the officer will be
content to scatter his guns a Kttie and to
break his symmetrical line.

Another prejudice which mqr be quite
justified in Eloropean warfare has exercised
an evil influence upon omr artillery in the
campaign. This is the extreme rehietance
of commanding officers to spAt up a battery
and to act with any unit leas than six guns.
** One gun is no gun," says an artill^y
maxim, but there have be«i occasions in the
campaign when a sii^e gun would have
saved «s from <Usaster. VHiile majears i^e-
served their perfect she-gun batteries the
kDops at Reddersbui^, at Lmdl^, at Roode-
wal, at Hoaning*s Spruit, were all in dire
need of the two guns which might easily
have been spared them. The &tfs soit
theur small parties about the country with
guns, we sent ours without; and when the
parties met, we were at a fatal disadvantage*
And tbe root of the matter \sj^ in the Ss-

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565

K
{if

inclination of our officers to divide up a
battery.

There is another subject so painful that
one would be tempted to avoid it but for its
vital importance. It is the danger of the
artillery firing into their own infantry, as
occurred again and again in the campaign.
At Talana Hill our guns opened with shrap-
nel, at less than 2,000 yards, upon our own
stormers, and drove them with some loss off
the crest which they had captured. Surely
officers could be provided with a glass which
would make it impossible to mistake Boer
for Briton at so close a range. At Storm-
berg the same thing happened, with tragic
resets. So also at Colenso.

As far as our equipment goes most artil-
lery officers seem satisfied, in spite of all
criticism, with the 15-pounder field gun,
and argue that any gun which fires faster
fires too fast to be controlled by its com-
mander. A battery at present can discharge
from fifteen to twenty shots a minute. They
hold, also, that any increase in weight of
the gun must be at the expense of mobility.
On the other hand, they have learned that
the shrapnel time fuses are too short, and
that batteries should be provided with com-
mon shell for use against sangars, houses,
and other solid defenses.

It is for a committee of inquiry to decide
whether such small changes as these are all
which we can gather from our experience in
this war. A certain conservatism and loy-
alty prompt a man to stand by the weapons
which he kiiows how to handle as against
those of which he has no experience. But
surely it must be admitted that one gun
which fires very rapidly is equal to several
guns which fire slowly, and offers a smaller
mark. Also that a difference of mobility,
which may or may not be of any importance,
is more than atoned for by the certain fact
that with the heavier gun you can hit your
enemy a mile beyond the range at which he
can hit you. The 12-pounder Elswick gun,
for example, cannot be much less mobile
than the service weapon, and yet its effec-
tive range is nearly double the distance. In
the wars of the future it is certain that very
much heavier guns will be employed than in
the past.

The lesson of the war as regards the effect
of artillery is that while it is comparatively
harmless where troops are extended or in-
trenched, it is most deadly when, through
faulty leadership or the accident of the
ground, troops are compelled to bunch.
Spion Kop was won entirely by the Boer

artillery — the one example in the war where
infantry have been mastered by guns. The
small Vickars-Maxim quick-firer established
an evil reputation there and elsewhere ; but
as the war went on it was appreciated that
its shells might as well be solid, as they have
small penetrating power after their explo-
sion, and are usually only to be feared on
direct impact.

The engineers in every branch have done
splendidly in the war. The balloon depart-
ment was handicapped by the height of the
scene of operations, whfch only gave them a
narrow margin (a few hundred feet) of ele-
vation. But in spite of this they did fine
work, and their presence will become more
essential as the trench and the hidden gun
become universal in the battles of the fu-
ture. The pontoon section also did well,
but it is the railway sappers who have really
won the first honors of the campaign upon
the side of the British. They were, of
course, immensely assisted by the presence
of the Pioneer Regiment, with its skilled
officers and trained workers, and also by the
presence of cheap black labor; but the en-
ergy and ingenuity with which every diffi-
culty was surmounted and the line was kept
up to the army will always remain a wonder
to those who saw it and a glory to those who
did it. One branch of the service which
proved to be most useful, and which might
well be enlarged, is the mounted engineer.
As the horseman threatens to play so great
a part in the wars of the future, it is neces-
sary to have your horse-sapper who will keep
up with him, tap telegraphs, break bridges,
cut lines, and get the full advantage out of
each Advance.

There remains that Medical Department
upon which so fierce a light has beaten. It
has had less than justice done to it, because
the desperate nature of the crisis which it
had to meet was not realized by the public.
For reasons of policy the grave state of the
army in Bloemfontein was never made known,
and at the moment when the public was read-
ing optimistic reports the town was a center
of pestilence and the hospitals were crammed
to their utmost capacity. The true statis-
tics of the outbreak will probably never
come out, as the army returns permit the
use of such terms as '^ simple continued
fever" — a diagnosis frequently made, but
vague and slovenly in its nature. If these
cases were added to those which were re-
turned as enteric (and they were undoubtedly
all. of the same nature), ic would probably
double the- numbers and give a true idea of

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SOME LESSONS OF THE WAE.

the terrible nature of the epidemic. Speak-
ing roughly, there could not have been fewer
than from 7,000 to 10,000 in Bloemfontein
alone, of which 1,300 died.

At the time of this terrible outbreak the
army depended for its supplies upon a single
precarious line of rails, which were choked
with the food and the remounts which were
absolutely necessary for the continuance of
the campaign. The doctors had the utmost
difficulty in getting the tents, medicines,
and other necessarie^s for their work. They
were overwhelmed with cases at the very
moment when their means for treating them
were at the lowest, and unhappily enteric is
of all diseases the one which needs careful
nursing, special nourishment, and constant
attention. The result was in many cases
deplorable. There were hospitals where the
most necessary utensils were wanting. In
supplying these wants locally there was, as
it seemed to me, a want of initiative and of
energy, but it sprang largely from an exag-
gerated desire on the part of the authopties
to conciliate the Free Staters and reconcile
them to our rule. It was thought too high-
handed to occupy empty houses without per-
mission, or to tear down corrugated iron
fencing in order to make huts to keep the
rain from the sick soldiers. This policy,
which sacrificed the British soldier to an ex-
cessive respect for the feelings of his ene-
mies, became modified after a time, but it
appeared to me to increase the difficulties of
the doctors.

Where the Department seemed to be open
to criticism was in not having more men
upon the spot. Capetown was swarming
with civil surgeons, and there was nd diffi-
culty in conveying them to Bloemfontein,
Kroonstadt, or wherever else they were
needed. For example, a man should cer-
tainly have been on duty night and day at
the station, to meet all incoming trains and
receive the sick and wounded. There were
cases where men lay on the platform for
long periods before being removed. So also
it was obvious that a rest camp should have
been formed early, so as to relieve the con-
gestion of the hospitals by ts^ng away the
lighter cases. But the situation was a most
difficult one, and the men upon the spot,
from General Wilson to the humblest or-
derly, were worked to their extreme capac-
ity. It is easy now to criticise what they
did not do, but it is just also to remember
what they did.

The fact is that the true blame in the

tter rests not with the Medical Depart-

ment, but with the composition of the South
African army. The Medical Department is
arranged to meet the wants of such a body
of regular troops as Great Britain could pat
in the field, but not to provide for a great
army of irregulars and Colonials very much
larger than could ever have been foreseen.
It is unjust to blame the Medical Depart-
ment for not being prepared for that whkh
was a new thing, totally unforeseen by any
one even after the outbreak of hostilities.

Leaving these hasty and superficial notes
of the way in which each branch of the ser-
vice has been affected by the war, I should
desire to add a few words upon the army of
the future. I believe that if we could lay
the lessons of this war rightly to heart we
might become as strong upon land as we are
on sea, and that the change might be effected
without any increase of expense. It will
probably be represented that the lesson of
the war is that the army should be increased ;
but my own impression, which I advance with
all diffidence, is that the true reading is dif-
ferent, and that we should decrease the army
in numbers, and so save the money which
will enable us to increase its efficiency and
mobility.

When I say decrease the army, I mean de-
crease the number of professional soldiers;
but I should increase the total number of
armed men upon whom we can call by a lib-
eral encouragement of volunteering and such
an extension of the Militia Act as would give
us at least a million men for home defense.

The army proper should, according to this
scheme, be drawn from a higher class than
is done at present, for modem warfare de-
mands more intelligence and individuality
than is to be found in the peasant or nn-
skilled laborer classes. To get these men a
good wage must be paid — not less than half
a crown a day, with a pension in reserve.

Granting that the professional army
should consist of 100,000 men, which is
ample for every requirement, I should di-
vide them roughly into 40,000 mounted in-
fantry, who shoidd be the Hiie, trained to
the last point, with every man a picked shot
and rider. Twenty thousand I should devote
to forming a powerful corps of artillery,
who should be armed with the best weapons
which money could buy. Ten thousand would
furnish the engineers, the army service corps,
and the medi(^ orderlies. There is no use
in feeding and paying men in time of peace
when we know that we can get them easily
in time of war and rapidly make them effi-
cient. In all these three departments it

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TRADE WINDS.

567

would be practicable to fill up the gaps by
trained volunteers when they are needed.

There remain 30,000 men out of the origi-
nal number, which should form the infantry
of the line. These should preserve the old
regimental names and traditions, but should
consist of mere ** cadres," skeleton regi-
ments to be filled up in time of war. There
might, for example, be a hundred regiments,
each containing 300 men. But these men,
paid on the higher scale, are all picked men
and good rifie shots, trained to the highest
point in real warlike exercises — not in bar-
rack-square evolutions. Where the standard
of intelligence is higher, drill is not so neces-
sary to give cohesion to a regiment. This
force would in itself (with the aid of the
mounted infantry and artillery) be able to
cope with any ordinary task; but when the
nation desired to use its whole strength, the
regiments would at once be increased to
1,000 each by drafts from the huge volun-
teer and militia reserves. This new mate-
rial would take some digesting, but with 300
old soldiers already in the ranks, it would
not take long before the regiments would
become formidable. Our infantry force
would thus rise at once to 100,000 men,
with behind them 1,000,000 or so of the

picked manhood of the country ready to
form fresh battalions or to fill the gaps in
the old ones. Add to this the Indian army,
and the splendid material of Australia, South
Africa, and Canada, each of which should be
separately organized, and we should have
such a force as the empire has never yet
had at its command. In spite of the higher
pay to every officer and man, I believe that
the economies would be so great owing to
the smaller numbers — which count, not
merely upon a pay list, but in our bills for
transport, for food, for pensions, and for bar-
racks— that we could do it at a considerably
smaller cost if the nation can be persuaded
to extend the Militia Act for short periods
of home service. But, above all, let the
army become a serious profession, let us
have done with the ** fuss and the feathers,"
the gold lace and the frippery, which were
needed to catch the plowboy, but are re-
pellant to the reasonable man. Let us have
done also with the tailoring, the too luxuri-
ous habits of the mess, the unnecessary ex-
travagances which make it so hard for a poor
man to accept a commission. • If only this
good came from all our trials and our efforts
they would be well worth all that they have
cost us.

TRADE WINDS.

By Edith Wyatt.
A STORY OF THE CHICAGO WEST SIDE.

JOHN WOLLFE had spent all his life in
the changes of trade in the neighbor-
hood of Harrison and Halsted streets.

Here, after fifty years of industry, he had
built up a small reef of a retail diy-goods
store, where he lived with his family, a wife
and six children.

His establishment was a three-story red-
brick with a fifty-foot frontage. It had
high plate-glass windows, a blue and white
awning, and it was called " The Wolf Store "
— a friendly pun, expressed by its sign, which
had a gilded wolf walking out on a small plat-
form over the awning, and by two iron wolves,
one on each side of the street door.

Here Mr. Wollfe worked from early morn-
ing till late at night, making accounts, bal-
ancing books, selling over-his counter, piling
up rolls of cloth and boxes of niching on his
shelves; and arranging his windows attrac-
tively.

He was a small, thin man, pale, and al-
ways rather tired-looking, with gentle eyes,
and a mild, smiling face. In the neighbor-
hood Mr. Wollfe was regarded with respect,
but with no liking nor interest. It was
thought, for no reason except a disapproval
of his quietness and diffidence, that he was
** close." Still, his store was very popular.
He was a member of the West Side Business
Men's Club and of a Merchant's Marching
Club. He kept out of debt; his family
were comfortably fed and dressed, and they
had certain luxuries.

His front parlor over the store was richly
furnished with plush chairs, and with a mar-
ble clock; the boys had wheels; and Mrs>
Wollfe, an active, good-looking woman with
high cheek-bones, a lively gossip, admired
in the-iieighborhood, had a silk petticoat and
many large brooches and pins, birthday and
Christmas tokens.

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TRADE WINDS.

]

younger

Mr. Wollfe was not so humble nor so plain-
minded himself but that he had his vanity.
He was vain of the gay appearance of ** The
Wolf Store/' of his position in the business
world, and of his eldest daughter, Allie.

AUie was seventeen years old. She had
soft brown hair, a few scattering freckles,
and her father's gentle brown eyes. Her
dimples were always coming and going. She
changed color easily; and in spite of a life
spent in serving the public in ** The Wolf
Store," she was shy and rather self-con-
scious. She was always biting the corner
of her lip, taking out her handkerchief, run-
ning her thumb round the edge of her belt,
or pushing back an escaping lock of hair.
She dressed very fashionably, for her father
liked to give her gold belts, and link cuff-
buttons, and tucked shirt-waists from the
store.

Although Mrs. Wollfe and the
children habitually snubbed him,
Allie would consult her father's
opinion, and respect his tastes.
He sometimes found cities she had
given up as hopeless on the history
map; and she would appeal to him
with ** Father, what do you think
of my new hat ? " and ** Father, 1
just know you won't like these
shoes. They're too stumpy-looking
to suit 2/oM."

Allie had done well in the public
school; and she now went to a
dancing class, and to a history class,
in the settlement house near, where
she showed herself a good scholar,
taking just what was given her
without too much probing, and
going through the history- class
with the same executive ability and
neat despatch that she evinced in
the dancing class, and in tying up
parcels in ** The Wolf Store."

She and WUl, the eldest boy, both
worked in the store. They enjoyed
it. They liked giving souvenirs of
little pasteboard plaques or alumi-
num match-safes, with a dollar's
worth of purchase on Saturday
nights. They liked to roll up par-
cels briskly, pulling string from an
iron case, and tying it neatly before
a watching customer; and Will
showed the same pleasure in atti-
tude and distinction of bearing
that certain actors show in handing
Ipdies off the stage, when he
adroitly gathered up the folds of a

piece of cloth to catch the light, and re-
marked, ** Here^g a tagty thing in lawUy lady^'*
as he raised his chin, and gassed delicately
out of the window, in order not to embar-
rass the choice of the awed customer.

Allie, for her part, adopted a confidential
tone with the public. She advised, and at the
slightest approbation of her wares, praised
with uncontrolled enthusiasm, exclaiming,
** AtfffuUy gtylishf*' and " Yes, U is sweet,
isn't Ur'

If *' The Wolf Store " was delightful and
satisfactory to Mr. Wollfe and his children,
it was not faintly pleasing to a young g^entle-
man, Mr. Henry Norris, who visited their es-
tablishment by chance one Saturday evening.

He was walking home from a visit to a
friend at the settlement house; and he bad
been asked to stop on his way and leave
word for Miss Wollfe that Mr. Norton was
ill and could not conduct his history class.

us. WOLLPB.
A imall, thim mam, paU, amd atwan* nUher Urtdiookimg:'

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TRADE WINDS.

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As Henry Norris walked between the two
iron wolves into the store, brilliantly lighted
for the distribution of the Saturday evening
souvenirs, he observed all the effort to at-
tract the attention of the public, with a feel-
ing of thorough disgust and contempt.

The windows were draped with red tissue-
I>aper, and in one of them there was an elabo-
rate tent of handkerchiefs. The souvenirs
were all arranged in neat rows on a table
near the door. Will was standing in a grand,
clerkly attitude, holding up a piece of silk
for a customer already arrived, though it
was too early after supper for many people
to have come in yet ; and Allie was whisking
around, in a new blue satin tie and belt, her
eyes and cheeks shining with the excitement
she always felt on Saturday nights.

Mr. Norris felt that here lay before him
a picture of Commercialism, of the life of
the petty tradesman, of greed, competition,
and vulgarity. He disliked Commercialism,
and often expressed a displeasure that it
should exist; and he now walked with as
much superiority and distinction as possible
to the end of the store, and delivered his
message as though he had been extending it
at arm's length.

Mr. Wollfe, seeing his daughter in con-
versation with a stranger apparently not a
customer, came forwaM with civility. His
neat store, Allie's presence and prettiness,
a successful day, all had combined to give
him unusual self-confidence. Catching Mr.
Norris's last words, and bowing to him
cordially, he replied :

*' Allie will be sorry to miss that class.
But we'll be glad to have her here to help us
to-night. We always have our hands full."

And he could not refrain from glancing
contentedly around his establishment, nor
from showing Mr. Norris the placard he had
in his hand. He had bought it that morning
at an advertiser's, and he believed it so apt
and ingenious that it must appeal to any-
body. Besides, the poor fellow was a gentle-
man, with no notion that all people were not
social equals, and h|B was feeling on that
evening very hospitable and kindly. He
turned the placard towards the proud glance
of Mr. Norris, observing, **What do you
tWnkof that, sir?"

It was a white placard, with a sentence
printed on it in large, purple letters:

We Should Like to
CUBA

COSTOMER OF OURS.

Mr. Norris's expression as he looked at this
unambitious instance of the f acetiousness of
advertisers changed from a gaze of lofty
indifference to one of an almost insulted
disgust.

Allie was laughing and saying, ** Well,
that is pretty goc^. Do you see the point ? ' '
she went on, turning to Mr. Norris, as she
noticed his silence, * * See you be a — CUBA ! ' '

" Yes — ah — good evening," responded Mr.
Norris inadequately, and he bowed himself
away.

Mr. Wollfe was astounded and a little
hurt by his indifference. He was eiisily
dashed, and he had thought that any one
must like this elaborate jest.

But as soon as Mr. Norris's back was
turned, Allie put her hand over her mouth
to keep from bursting out laughing, and
glanced at her father with happy eyes.

^^My! He didn't see the point, after
all!" she exclaimed. She gave her father
an affectionate little push, and he began to
laugh, too.

** I'll run around, and see how it looks
from the outside while you put it in the win-
dow," she continued sympathetically; and
she slipped out of the store.

Her reasons for running around outside
were not, however, entirely unselfish. She had
for some minutes been aware that a friend, .
a young livery-stable keeper, a Mr. McGar-
rigle, was standing expectantly on the corner.

Mr. McGarrigle stood on the comer alu.ost
every Saturday evening, indeed, in order
that Allie might come to the door to pull up
the awning, or slip a door-catch, and inci-
dentally observe him, and exchange a few
words with him.

He was twelve years older than Allie, a
tall, stooping, sallow Irishman, with a long,
somewhat humorous face, and a taste for
the lounging, public life of livery stables.

He was a good driver and card-player,
and there was something masterly and im-
pressive in his presence to the little boys in
the neighborhood. They classed him with
the policemen and the firemen of their ac-
quaintance.

In his shirt-sleeves, with his Derby hat
pushed far back on his head, strolling in-
differently among the looming red vans and
yellow-pictured moving-wagons of his dark
warehouse, or smoking nonchalantly in his
livery-stable office, Sam McGarrigle appeared
to the little boys a man of scope, ease, and
power.

On Sundays he sometimes took Allie driv-
ing, on these occasions alwajrs, indeed.

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TRADE WINDS.

producing on Allie the same effect as on the
little boys.

When he drove two horses she was afraid
of with one hand, with the other resting on
his knee, and joked about the history class
and "The Wolf Store," Allie was so im-
pressed with his gayety and ability, so pleased
with his admiration of her, that she could
think of nothing
else

The Wollfes
had a very large
sale on the night
of Mr. Norris's
visit; and when
they finally be-
gan to close the
store, Mr. Mc-
Garrigle, always
full of resource
and initiative,
detained Allie at
the door with a
pasteboar d
bucket of ice-
cream. He had
carried it from a
restaurant, and
even remem-
bered to borrow
spoons.

He and Allie
sat on the iron
door -step of the
empty street
outside, and ate
the ice-cream,
while Mr. Wollfe
and Will, content
\vith the day's
work, rolled up
bales and ar-
ranged the store
for Sunday
within.

And so little
impression had
the visit of Mr.
Norris made, so unconscious were they of
their greed and squalor, that the evening
was marked for them all with an especially
careless and radiant happiness.

On the next evening Mr. Wollfe heard a
piece of news that kept him awake all night.

The grocery store opposite had failed.
Its owner wotJd dispose as soon as possible
of its stock, and rent the house to a retail
dry-goods merchant.

ALLIE, MR. WOLLFE, AND MR. NORRIS.
" See vou b« a—CVBA I "

Within two weeks the new store was estab-
lished. Not to be outdone by " The Wolf
Store," it had a name, " The Castle of Com-
merce." It was practically a branch of one
of the large department stores, and it could
afford to undersell Mr. Wollfe.

Further, it offered to the neighborhood
attractions that Mr. Wollfe had not suffi-
cient address to
introduce.

On Saturday
evenings, a band
played inside the
** Castle of Com-
merce": a dol-
lar's worth drew
a ticket for a
lottery prize, a
rocking - chair:
once a woman
with a patent
button-holer sat
in the window
for a day, punch-
ing and outlin-
ing buttonholes
with dizzying
speed ; and on
another occa-
sion, an agent
for indelible ink
wrote people's
names on their
handkerchiefs
free of charge,
in a flourishing,
shaded hand.

Mr. WoUfe's
regular custom-
ers slipped away.
In two months
none were left
except a few
women, sorry for
Allie and Bfrs.
Wollfe. As for
the casual trade
— that was en-
tirely absorbed by the newer, larger ** Cas-
tle of Commerce."

Mr. Wollfe barely managed to pay his
taxes. He was ah-eady in debt for lus fam-
ily's living expenses : it was impossible, with-
out ready money, to buy more stock, and
there seemed to be no outlook, nothing but
failure ahead. He continued pinning up un-
noticed placards, following the market prices
even when he could not think of buying, and
balancing every night the short column of

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TRADE WINDS.

571

sales in his account book. The only change
observable in him was that, though he worked
80 much less, he looked more tired.

His wife was anxious, not over him, but
over their prosperity. She continually told
him that they were losing money if he only
knew it. Why didn't he do something ?
She was sure they would end in the poor-
house. Will was contemptuous and morose,
and Allie merely thought times were hard.

In the fall Mr. Wollfe's creditors came
upon him. They would have been more
lenient but for the common belief that he
was ** close," that he could pay, if he suffi-
ciently wished.

His failure was an honorable one, and he
paid every cent he owed. But when that
was done he had nothing left. At his age
he felt that it would be impossible for him
to build up another such business. There
seemed to be nothing for him to do.

He tried to get work without success.
The family moved to another, poorer neigh-
borhood. Will found a place in the ' ' Castle
of Commerce " ; and they lived on his wages,
and on credit, as well as they could.

Mrs. Wollfe was more contemptuous than
ever: and sometimes in her hard silliness,
and in thinking of what he might have done
at the last to stave defeat from " The Wolf
Store,*' Mr. Wollfe would have been miser-
able enough, if Allie had not been with him
now all day in their idleness — and just what
she had always been. She even induced him
to go into an algebra class with her at the
settlement house.

Mr. McGarrigle was away managing a liv-
ery stable in St. Jo through most of the
summer and at the time of their misfortune.
But on the first Sunday after his return, he
drove around just as usual, and Allie stepped
into his high buggy, laughing and blushing,
and waved her hand to her father at the
window as they drove oflf, to the envy of the
neighbors.

She and Sam McGarrigle had always come
back at supper-time. But on that night it
seemed as if they would never come.

It grew dark and late. The family went
to bed, and only Mr. Wollfe sat up in the
dark, bare little parlor, waiting for his
daughter in unreasoning anxiety.

At ten o'clock some one knocked at the
door. Mr. Wollfe opened it, and a police-
man stepped gravely into the room.
. ''Did a Miss AUce Wollfe live here?"

" Yes."

•'Be ye her father?"

''Yes."

" Was she drivin' with a young gintleman
this afternoon?"

"Yes," said Mr. Wollfe, his eyes fixed
on the policeman's face in an agony of im-
patience.

" Well, sir — " The policeman nerved
himself, and dropped his eyes. " She was
drowned in Humboldt Park, this afternoon
— and the young gintleman."

Mr. Wollfe was too dazed to speak.

" What ? how ? " he managed to choke out.

"I saw them myself. The young gintle-
man was drivin' with a fine team of horses;
and they come right along by the boat-
house. The young gintleman says, ' It looks
cool-like there, let's have a change,' he says.
Just like that. The next I saw them was
about half an hour later; they was on the
liJce, an' the gintleman was rowin' ; an' a
crowd of crazy fellows, showin' oflf, run into
them. They come right up behind crashin'
into them. He turned quick-like, but he
couldn't get away. Their boat turned over
— and the young lady never come up. Her
dress was caught in the boat."

Everything turned black before Mr. Wollfe.

" It can't be true," he managed to say.

It seemed to him he was dead himself, as
he watched his wife and the children gath-
ering around in shawls and night-gowns,
and listening to the story. Eveiything was,
vague and strange to him. He helped Will
calm Mrs. Wollfe, hardly knowing what he
was saying. He soothed the children ; and
after he had taken them back to bed, he
started out, numbed and purblind, with the
officer, walking along streets his feet seemed
scarcely to touch, stupefied with a truth that
left his mind dark and groping.

"The gintleman was drowned trying to
get her," the policeman said. " So soon as
we tuk her out, we found her name in her
pocket-handkerchief, and there wuz some
there knew him. 'Why,' they says, 'it's
Sam McGarrigle, Sam McGarrigle, none
other,' so they fetched his brother from the
North Side."

The policeman talked on, his voice sound-
ing in the still, echoing street, as they walked
between the long stretching lines of the gas-
lamps, and past the silent houses rising
around like things in a dream ; and his speech
was the only thing that touched poor Mr.
Wollfe's staggering senses, or that kept him
from facing alone an unspeakable blankness.

Allie's death lent to the WoUfes' house-
hold a dignity it had not known before. In
the midst of their bereavement, snubbing

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572

TRADE WINDS.

SAM McGARRIGLE.
" A man of gcope, ease, and poieer.**

and hard words were profane and impossible
to them, and they were all delicately respect-
ful and gentle with each other. Allie's love-
liness, her gayety, her warm and tender
graces, so mysteriously vanished, were, after
all, not quite gone.

Their loss brought them consideration in
their new neighborhood. Women were
friendly with }Atb. Wollfe ; and all her fam-
ily, though so much sadder, were somehow,
and oddly, less miserable.

Mr. Wollfe felt gratefully his family's
comforting tenderness, and all the kindli-
ness that never seems to fail bereavement,
a kindliness lovely, and yet very different
from the only especial tenderness he had
ever known.

Besides, his unaccustomed idleness, heavier
than ever now, kept his days drifting past
swiftly and vapidly in a stupefying blank-
ness. He would walk for hours staring dully
at the streets and at the passers-by, some-
times stopping on the comers, sometimes

standing on the Halsted Street \ ia-
duct, leaning on its rail, looking out
over the wide prospect spreading
before him.

The sound of traffic hummed about
him, the whizzing electric car asd
lumbering van, the clap of horse-
hoofs, the calling of men's voices.
and the chuffing or the whistling of
steam from the near waterwajs.
Gose beneath him spread a fan of
railroad tracks, in long, white aod
gray glittering lines, interlacing is
countless switches and crossings;
the tarred and pebbled roof of a
round-house stretched at one end of
the lines. Above them, in the height
of the air, blew twisting funnels of
pearl and murky smoke, pennons of
feathered blue and white waved in
lofty streamers, and furling clouds
of steam of the same color puffed
buoyantly in swelling folds of lus-
trous cream and snow from tbe
engine smoke-stacks. And east
and west, and north, and south,
below pillaring chinmey and pierc-
ing spire, the city roof-tops lay
grimed and dusky in a mjrriad of
squares and gables above the peopled
mart.

Here the prospect spread, vast
and various, a place of lively trans-
action, of desperate endeavor and
defeat, a proffer of an infinite oppor-
tunity.
As Mr. Wollfe stood one evening staring
at the scene, unconsciously overwhelmed
with the thought of his disaster among its
million chances, unconsciously exhilarated
by its generous scope and far outlook, he
buried his face in his hands.

Meanwhile, on the same evening, Mr. Heniy
Norris, too, was on the Halsted Street Via-
duct. He was not interested in the view,
regarding this merely as one of the dirtiest
portions of the city. However, perhaps the
scene, with all its variety, had its unrealized
effect, and unconsciously diverted him from
his customary consideration of the squalor
of Commercialism, and of his own relative
social position.

At least, when he saw Mr. Wollfe leaning
on the rail with his face in his hands, he was
stricken with a genuine sympathy. He went
up to him and asked him, with a real con-
cern, and with no thought of patronage, nor
even of benevolence, what was the matter.
Mr. Norris did not recognize Mr. Wollfe

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A LOVE STORY,

673

as the owner of " The Wolf Store/' bat Mr.
Wollfe recognized Mr. Norris. The sight of
him gave the householder a pang of reminis-
cent pride. He had scarcely he2U*d the young
man's words, but he perceived his friendly
intention.

He shook hands with Mr. Norris. '* You
come from the settlement?'' he said; and
as Mr. Norris shook his head vaguely : '* You
came to my store one night from there.
Don't you remember ? "

** Oh, yes — ^yes. I've heard Mr. Norton
speak of your daughter. How is she ? How
are all of you?"

The remembrance of Mr. Wollfe's desper-
ate attitude, and some sad dignity in his
face, made Mr. Norris ask this.

** Why, didn't you know ? My daughter
is dead. She was drowned."

Mr. Norris looked at him dumbly.

Mr. Wollfe had started up, and they walked
along together.

After a time Mr. Norris asked him how
his business was; and they began speaking
of the details of Mr^ Wollfe's failure.

Instead of rejoicing that Mr. Wollfe had
been driven by circumstances from a field of
sordidness and greed, Mr. Norris asked him
if he could not help him in finding a place.
Indeed, his hatred of Commercialism did not
come into his head at all at the time.

Afterwards he really did find Mr. Wollfe
a place as a buyer for one of the department
stores, where his industry and ability brought
him a very appreciative and grateful respect.

As time passed, and he gained honor and
profit, Mrs. Wollfe was soon spiritedly and
dressily superior among her neighbors again ;
and Will and the children held their heads
high in the world in the possession of chain-
less wheels.

As for Mr. Wollfe, in his recovery of their
pride and pleasures he found the happiness
possible to a fine devotion.

A LOVE STORY

by Annie Webster

IT was not her first love. She had loved
before, but never in this way. She
looked with a certain pitying scorn on the
fleeting attachments of two years, a year, six
months ago. ** I was very young then," she
thought, looking up through the apple-blos-
som tree under which she kiy.

She was ten years old now. Ten just the
day before the day before yesterday. And
day before yesterday was the first time she
had seen Her. It had cost her a great deal
to go to school that day. It was her birth-
day, and the sun shone. But she had gone.
Things are very hard at times, but now how
glad, how glad she was!

Now, lying under the apple blossoms, she
made a great resolve. She would never
catch on sleighs again. Supposing it had
been winter, and a sleigh had come by and
she had caught on, and She had seen her!
Oh, perhaps She had seen; perhaps that was

the reason why She had not even looked at
her in school yet. Solemn tears came to
her eyes. ** I will wash the dishes every
day, every day, without being asked," she
thought.

If her legs were only thin ! She had such
lovely thin legs. And blue eyes, truly blue,
instead of all sorts of colors mixed up. And
her hair was long and braided, and had a lit-
tle point at the end instead of twisting up
and rumpling up, especially in church, until
you were simply obliged to take your hat off
or suffocate.

Perhaps She would have spoken that very
morning if her hair had been different. No
one understood. No one cared. She had
not seen Her for two days, and just that
morning she was looking in the glass to see
if she had not changed at all, or grown very
pale, when her mother began to twist the
end of her braid around and around, and

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574

A LOVE STORY.

there it was all turned up again. No one
understood ; no one in the whole world — ex-
cept God. He must. How near the blue
sky seemed beyond the apple blossoms !

Suddenly she saw her brother come out
on the piazza, look around, and then steal
softly back of the house. ** He's after my
things, I bet," and she sprang up and after
him; but she stopped in the midst of her
run, hesitated, turned back, and then ran
eagerly after him again. ** Til show him
where Fve hid the treasure, and Til let him
have my bower up in the tree," she thought.
She ran on, tripped, and tore her dress.
Her brother saw her coming, and fled pre-
cipitately over the fence. Then she leaned
her head against a tree and looked down at
her torn dress, and a great wave of sadness
came over her. ** Mother will scold, too, I
suppose. No one knows how changed I am.
I am going to die pretty soon, I guess."

The next day she went early to school
and laid an armful of apple blossoms on Her
desk. Then she crept softly out and lin-
gered at the school gate, watching. But
when She came near, walking quite slowly —
not running at all, in fact, or even skipping—
with her ** geography " under her arm ; with
her truly blue eyes ; with her hair which did
not rumple or twist, but which ended in a
little point; with her thin legs; the little
girl's courage failed. She turned back, and
walked slowly up the school walk. Her heart
beat fast. * * Maybe she'll catch up and speak
to me." But She came up the walk behind,
not even trying to step over all the cracks.
** Maybe she'll fall down and break her leg,
and I'll have to go for the doctor." But
no ; it did not seem to occur to Her even to
see how many steps She could jump up.
The little girl hid herself behind the cloak-
room door, and watched through the chink
to see if She would see the apple blossoms.
Her desk was covered with them, so She
broke off several twigs all pink and white,
and taking up the others, threw them from
the window. There were too many. She
would have had no place to write on. * * They
were just common things. I'd ought to have
brought lilies or roses or something lovely,"
moaned the little girl in the cloak-room.
She did not venture in until the others came.
Then she saw that She had pinned the apple-
blossom twigs on her dress.

She wouldn't have pinned them on if she
had minded their being so common! How
beautiful the world was! How could any
one ever be bad ! How good God was ! She
couldn't have minded it ! Passing Her desk

she looked right at Her, and said sof tlv,
"Thank you." Then she rushed on, her
heart beating.

But at her own desk, from where she
could see the thin legs coming down below
the seat, and above, the lovely braid, all
but the little point, her heart sank. Sket
realized now how the deformed man in her
street felt. ** Why does God make sodm
people so nice and some so horrid ?" she
thought in despair. At recess, howeva",
she was obliged to pass Her desk often. At
last the bell struck, and as she went to b^
seat she said to Her:

*' Hello!"

*' Hello! " said the other little girl.

The next day they became intimate friendi.
The new scholar's name was Rosalie. The
little girl was not surprised. She had knomi
from the beginning it must be that — that
or Violet. Her own was only Jessie.

There was another girl of the same age,
whose name was Lilian. These three m&A
to walk home together, arm in arm, talking
very fast, and quite oblivious of the ordinary
human being, except when he, by chance,
plucked up courage to beg to be permitted
to pass. They had the power of seeing
who it was without looking or pausing,
and overheard his request, granted it gra-
ciously, or swept past in a rush of indigna-
tion, in accordance with some delicate nund-
process.

Rosalie and Lilian lived on adjacent streets,
Jessie further on, so they separated one by
one. One day Jessie asked Rosalie to walk
on to the next comer. She did it. Then
Jessie walked back again. That could not
happen often, however, for Rosalie's mother
had said she must come right home from
school.

Some people were so different from other
people. Rosalie was never bad, never!
Lilian was lovely, too, though she sometimes
did things. And some people were so bad.
They didn't mean to be, but it just came.
Rosalie really liked to put on her best
clothes. It was true. She did. And they
must have been just as uncomfortable as
other people's.

The little girl looked up at the trees over-
head with their fresh little green leaves, and
the blue sky beyond. A song she had heard
one day at the Sunday-school came to her
mind. She could remember only detached
lines, and she hummed them as she went :

" Yield not to temptation,
For yielding is sin.**

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A LOVE STOBT.

575

Rosalie didn't.

" Each vietory will help yon
Some other to win.
Strive manfnlly onward,
Dark passionB snhdve — "

The sunlight danced among the little green
leaves, bat the little girl did not notice it.
Looking np beyond, she repeated, absorbed
in determination :

** Dark paanons sabdue.''

A boy whistled to her froii\ across the
street, but she did not hear him. She looked
around with grave eyes. Near her was a
half-built house, with a quantity of waste
wood lying around it. Suddenly Jessie
sprang toward it and began to gat^r a big
bundle, as much as she could carry. She
was obliged to lay her books down, and for-
got them as she trudged awsQr. ** I'll take
it to the Poor Woman across the bridge,"
she thought. The load grew very heavy,
and her heart filled with solemn joy. * * Dark
passions subdue," she sang softly to herself.

The load grew heavier. The world was
very sad. There was this Poor Woman.
Then the deformed man. And all the bad
people. ** I must be cheerful, though," she
thought. " She would be."

Th&e was no one in sight at the Poor
Woman's house. Jessie laid her bundle down
at the door very softly, and then ran away
as fast as she could, her shoes clattering on
the loose board sidewalk as she ran. Ij^en
she stopped, out of breath, the whole worid
was glowing in a golden mist. Nothing was
qaite clear before her eyes, not the flowers,
nor the trees with their little leaves, not
even the blue sky. She had never been so
happy before. * ' Rosalie, Rosalie, Rosalie, ' '
she sang as she skipped along. Then, as she
came near her home, a feeling of solemn re-
sponsibility came over her. ** I'll make Tom
learn tiiat song, too," she said; and she re-
peated it, looking up at the sky :

" Dark passioiifl subdue.''

The days slipped past. The three girls
had been intimate friends four weeks. Ro-
salie and Lilian studied their geography to-
gether; Jessie lived too far away. They
knew each other's inmost souls, and were
closely united by a common passion for the
teacher. They invented a cipher, the ex-
planation of which each kept hidden away
in the most secret part of her desk. It

worked beautifully, for each one was per-
mitted to add a new sign whenever it seemed
necessary. Then they would read the accu-
mdated notes on the way from school, and
laugh, and it made the other girls simply
wild. They likewise gathered large thorns,
and swore to prick their fingers and write
all very important notes in their blood.
These notes were to be kept forever. How-
ever, an insurmountable difficulty presented
itself — the pricking hurt. So a bottle of
red ink was substituted.

It was in black ink, however, that a note
was written by the little girl one morning.
The name was signed in blood, and a rose
was thrust through the middle of the note.
The contents were as follows :

" I can come and study geography this afternoon."

Rosalie read it, and passed it over to Lilian
when Jessie did not see. They looked at
each other a minute, without speaking, and
then Rosalie wrote in answer:

** We aren't going to study this afternoon.''

We plan and arrange for everytiiing, and
then nothing comes of it. Life is bitterly
hard. Perhaps God means that we shall be
very unhappy most of the time, so that we
shall get to be good sooner.

But the next day Rosalie wrote a note in
cipher saying that she could come over after
school. That day the world took hands with
Jessie, and danced with her along the way.

A week later she said ^ain that she could
come over and study geogn^hy. Lilian
looked at Rosalie. ** We don't study to-
gether any more," she said to Jessie.
"Didn't you know?" In fact, it was
arithmetic they studied together now.

The next day Rosalie stayed after school
to help the teacher. ** She's always doing
something lovely," thought Jessie. She
looked around for Lilian, but could not see
her. She vralked down the path very, very
slowly, hoping Rcwalie would catch up. Then
she waited at the gate, but Rosalie did not
come.

*' She'll be very pale to-morrow, " thought
Jessie, lost in wistful admiration, as she at
last turned away alone.

The next day they all walked home to-
gether, arm in arm ; but the next, Lilian had
to stay to arrange her books. Rosalie
waited for her. " Don't you wait," she
said to Jessie. '' Two don't need to, and
I will." The next day Rosalie forgot some-
thing, and went back to look for it. The

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576

A LOVE STORY,

other two waited for a while at the gate,
then Lilian went back to look for Rosalie.
Jessie waited longer, then she went to look,
but there was no one in the building — not in
the recitation-rooms — not in the cloak-rooms
— not even behind the doors.

For a week after that they all walked
home together, arm in arm, discussing
** standings " and other little girls' hair, and
deciphering letters, oblivious as ever of the
intruding wayfarer. After that Rosalie
stayed after school every day. At first
Lilian did not wait. Then she did.

A sense of deep unworthiness deepened
each day in Jessie as she went down the
walk alone. ** She was so lovely, I guess
I forgot to be good." Through the tears
in her eyes she saw Her before her in all her
unapproachable perfection. The truly blue
eyes, the braid with the little point, the thin
legs— she had seen all these things from the
first. But it was not until they became inti-
mate friends that she had understood what
She really was.

But it was almost more than human
strength could bear, walking home alone.
One day she waited behind the school until
they had come out together. Then she ran
across the fields and came up to Rosalie
alone near her home. ''Rosalie!" she
called out. Rosalie did not seem to hear.
'* Rosalie ! " Rosalie turned and waited for
her.

** Don't you like me any more, Rosalie ? "
cried the little girl.

** We're tired of you always hanging
round," said Rosalie.

The little girl turned back. She sobbed
as she ran, *' She might have told me so

before! She might have told me so be-
fore!"

Whether it was three weeks or three
years that now passed is a matter of slight
importance. But it was a very, very long
time. Sorrow ages a person, and she was
quite changed. Sometimes she forgot all
when she was reading or playing ball, but
later she remembered again. At night she
always remembered. One night she conld not
sleep. Every now and then she would get
up and look out of the window to see if it
was not morning, until at last about ten
o'clock she cried herself to sleep.

But the last day of school came. The
* * standings ' ' were read aloud. Rosalie stood
first, Jessie second, and Lilian third in the
grade. For a moment the world grew bri^t
again. Then she saw Rosalie and Lilian sit-
ting in the same seat, comparing ^* stand-
ings."

School was over and a very long time
passed. One day Jessie was walking along
the street when she beard some one running
behind her. She turned and saw Rosalie.
Rosalie had a bunch of flowers in her hand.

"Don't you want one?" she asked.
Jessie took it, and they walked side by side.
After a minute Jessie turned to Her. ** Can
you ever forgive me?" she asked in a
whisper, her lips trembling.

Rosalie was deeply mov^. She threw her
arms around Jessie and kissed her. ** Of
course I can," she cried.

They walked on with their arms around
each other's waists. Jessie did not speak.
There are no words for such things, toe she
knew now that they were intimate friends
forever. Forever and ever.

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McCLURE'S MAGAZINE

CONTENTS FOR MAY, 1900:*

Cover Designed by Ellen W. Ahrens.

Type of Bethlehemite. Reproduction in \
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Painted from life expressly for McClurk's Magazinb by Corwin Knapp Linson.

The Life of the Master. Part V. The )
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the Pharisees )

With four illustrations in color and pictures in black-and-white, by Corwin Knapp Linson.

With pictures by Henry Huti.

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With pictures by E. L. Blumenschein.

The Pasha's Prisoner.

em Turkey ....

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The Coming Total Eclipse of the Sun.—

What Astronomers Hope to Learn from this
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Previous Eclipses

Illustrated from photographs and drawings.

Miss Cullender's Lamb. The Story of a ) ^. .^ r/^*.- .
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With headpiece by Harry Fenn.

The Debut of Bimbashi Joyce. A Story ) . ^^^^^ ^^ ,
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An Indian Mother Song Willis Irwin .

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► Professor Simon Newcomb

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With pictures by T. de Thulstnip.

The New Prosperity Ray Stannard Baker

Illustrated by C. E. Hooper.

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Death in Battle.

A Poem Alfred Ollivant

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No. o8S. The Heir of Brandt, byEttaW. Pierce Set«k.

No. 084. The Homestead on the uiUsiae, byMrs. Mary J.lJofax(ea.S eta.
No. 08S. The Heiress of Bendee HalL by £tu W. Pierce. . .... .8 eta.

No. o86. The Shadow of a Sin, by Charlotte M. Braeme Mttm.

No. o87. The Light that Failed, by Rudyard K Ipling .8 eta.

No. 086. Lord Lynne's Choice, by Charlotte M. Braeme M eta.

No. a89. The Broken Engagement, by Mrs. E.D.EJV.Soatbwort]i.S eta.

No. o90. The Haunted Chamber, by *' The Duchess ** s cts.

No. 091. The ToU-Oate Mystery, by Mary Kyle Dallaa 41 eta

No. 1217. A Pleasure Exertion, by Josiab Allen's WUa.. 1 ««.

No. 1224. The Gable- Roofed Honse at Snowdon, by Mra. Hohnea.^l ct.

No. 1225. The Crime and the Curse, by Mrs. bouthworlh 1 ci.

No. 1228. Hinton Hall, by Mrs. May Agnes Fleming ] h.

No. 1227. The Surgeon of Gaster Fell, by A. Conan Doyle.. 1 h.

No. t228. Glen's Creek, by Mrs. Mary J. Hohnes 1 cL

No. 1229. The Wife's Victory, by Mrs. E. D. E, N. Sonttowortlu... .1 «.

No. 1230. What Gold Cannot Buy, by Mrs. Alexander !'. 1 rt.

No. C233. A i:it>uble8ome iHrl, by '" nie Dnche»s "^,.'.

Buy, L

No. Z251. Missing— A Toung Girt by Florence Warden.'.'. .'.' I T. *. ! ! 1 rT
No. Q32. Maiwa's BeTenge, by u. Rider Haggard 1 ri.

. _. Irc

No. 1234. Moat Grange, by Mrs. Henry Wood. irt.

No. 1236. The Story of a Wedding Ring, bj Charlotte M. Braeme. J ct.

No. 1236. HerManireat Destiny,!^ Amanda M. Douglas l rt.

No. 1237. Clouds and Sunshine, by Charles Reade 1 rt.

No. 1238. The Lawyer's Secret, by M iss M. E. Braddon ] rt.

No. 1239. Two Kisses, by Charlotte M. Braeme 1 re

No. 1240. Sir Noel's Heir, by Mrs. May Agnes Fleming 1 rt.

No. 1241. The Pearl of the Orient, by Sylvanns Cobb, Jr l rt.

No. 1242. From the Earth to the Moon, by Jules Verne. 1 rc

No. 1243. Mildred Trevanion, by ** The Duchess" 1 rt.

No. 1244. Wall Flowers, by Marlon Harland irt.

NO.C24A. TheLastof theRuthreniLbyMissMuIock 1 rt.

No. 1248. Strange Case of Dr. Jekyliand Mr. Hyde, bj Sterenson.l ct.

No. 1247. Falsely Accused, by Mrs Ann 8. Stephens 1 ct.

No. 1248. A False Scent, by Mrs. Alexander let

No. 1249. A Modem Cinderella, by Charlotte M. Braeme i et.

No. 1250. Caramel Cottage, by Mrs. Henry Wood 1 rt.

No. 1253. The Poison of Afcps, by Florence Marryat 1 ri.

No. 1254. TbeLittle Old Man of the BatignoUes, V Gaboriao 1 ri.

No. 2255. Under the Lilacs, by Cbartotte M. Braeme l ri.

t^ Any of the above books will be sent by mail po8^pald upon receipt of the special prices quoted. Please order by the numbrr*^.
being careful to precede each number by the letters o or I, as given above. If the numbers are plainly written it will not be nrmiwarr ts
give the titles. Customers will observe the economy In postage and stationery secured by ordering a number of books at a time Tb«se
special prices will hold good only until July Ist. 1900, therefore all orders must be sent before that date. We refer to tbe mereandJt
agencies as to our reliability, as we liave been established nearly 25 years, and arA well known. Address all letters :

F. M. 1.UPTON. PubHaher. 88, SS land ST Cltjr HsJl Flsiee. New Yogfc.

IFvouare a teacher seeking advancement and worthy of it,
AN1> IF you knew how many places the School Bulletin

Agency filled, and how it filled them,
YOU WOULiD register in it, and keep registered.
Illustrations and testimonials sent on application.

C. W. BARDEEN, Syracoae, N. Y.

LAW

STUDY AT HOME.

We guarantee that our course by
corres)>ondence will prepare for
bar examinations, also degree condltloO'
ally from our resident institution, ladl-
aaapolla College ef Lawt which has

a Spring and Snaimer Teraa. All courses complete.

International patronac^e. Graduates successfully practising.

Write for full information stating your desire.

NATIONAL CORRESPONDENCE SCHOOL OF UW
27 Penn Street, Indianapolis, lad.

SELF INDEXING.

LIlTrary Edition, $81 College Edition. #8 1 Business Edition, $1,

postpaid, on receipt or price, *•••-* ./..!-.--- «- 1

containing 12 pocicets. full si;

. . -_- Sent.

All c<litions g% x ti}* tnciies. Sample edition,

. -_ r . paper cover, postpaid, 10c PEKFE€T

FILM Albums, holding "vxt Netfatives. any size up to 4 z 5, allowint; 40
classifications, (K>stpaid,50e. Sul«tantlally bound, board covers, half linen.

THE PERPECT SCRAP BOOK CO., 152 Nomw St.. New York.

ILLUSTRATING

TAU8HT BY MAIL

Newspaper Sketctiinf; and ail hig:her Illustrating^ c
.jssfully taug^ht. Adapted to all. Individual instmrci
and criticism same as in our resident school.

Bvmaier. Best metiiods. Prepares quickly for pnA
able work. Students enthusiastic over their success. F^l

Karticulars sent free. NatlOMal Bchool «f Illwatrttt.
as, S7 Nortk Pa. BC, laAiMapoUe, 1m4.

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twnLINCOLW

J>'

Studied law in the spare moments which his duties in a
country grocery store allowed. Had he not realized the value
of time, the importance of a profession, and utilized his idle
hours, would he have been the Great Lincoln? Every genera-
tion produces some great minds, but the best mind requires
training. A few hours each day, given to the study of law,
under proper direction, will furnish a mental equipment which
will fit one for the practice of law, or to creditably fill
any situation in the commercial world. We offer a
course of study which can be followed without inter-
ruption to other pursuits. Without systematic guidance
the study of law is long, obscure, and discouraging.
We supply every need, books, lessons, selection of
studies, side-helps, quizzes, lectures, examinations. We
send a free catalogue of particulars, and book of
testimonials, showing our graduates in successful
business in every part of the world. Three courses:
Preparatory, Business Law, Regular College Course.

The Spragfue Correspondence School of Law,

III Majestic Building, Detroit, flich.

LEARN TO WRITE "ADS •

^'•/f>^,..^-

ilss^^^r^..

'S'f-Z.r^.''^-ii:3-.':>>/

"^al

•04

^ti<y,-^^.

;-'v.

^fs

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::i^^l£<>/r'}^<^:^!!.

^<S!^

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^«ic

'J^

EARN 30 to $100 A WEEK

W FOR BOYS

S*ntf ton o*nto for lhr«« monlha

tHal Mibaerfplton 1

THE

AMERICAN BOY

a practical magasin* for boys. Depart-
manU Short Stories, Succemful Boys,
What Boy* are doing. Talk* on Bun-
oete— (Insurance. Savings Banks, Book
Keeping, etc.) Boys as money-makers,
The Boy in the office, store, factory,
home, ehoreh and school. Games and
Sport, The Boys' Ubrmry, The Boy
Jnumahst, Printer Collector,— (Stampe, .wins, curios, etc.,) Photo*

frapher, Mechanic. Scientist, Orator and Debater. Boys and Animsit,
rues and Puulrs. Interesting, instructive, pure, elevating, inspiring.
Also orgnn of Agassis Association of Young Ifaturalists.

• 1 000 In Caall IPrlsas and a choice from 300 elegant premiums
given for subscribers. The magasine canvasses for iteelf. You need
D«it show it Tht best paper ever issued for boys References in every
eltv. Il 00 B ve*r Trial 3 months subscription for lOe.
SrWAQUg PU«*Q 00. H» Mnlaattc BM^. DtraH. Ullcll.

i 1*1 Looking for bridht '
' yauDK and middle a^ed |
i men to work for him in
; 6 very State. Nearly 10,a!0 i
. appuiutmentH were made 1
f last year by Civil !«*er-l

• vice RxaminntiofiM. I ^

; Postal service examinationii in all larno post officps %
l in the fall. Castoin Hoaa© eiaminationa io June, r
' Soecial exarainatlnng may be heldaDytimi!, Be prr^ 2
I pf%rf<i notr. Full particalarsof ffovemnieTit ponitions, \

• where they are, how to get them, salaries paid, etc. £
i -^'®«* NATIONAL CORRESPONDEMCE INSTITUTE, C

; ai-48 ad Nafl Hunk Hid if., Wimlilrifflon, I>. C, l

TECHNICAL EDUCATION AT HOME.

You can cam more If you learn more. Don't be contented to hold a
subordinate position all your life when a few hours' evening study now
will fit you for a really desirable position, and insure better prospects
and better salary for life.
AYimy STKAI, ELKCTRICAL, lARIKK OR QW ||A||

OlUUl ■KTHAXlCAL ENGINEERING DI ■HIL

A complete course at a moderate cost, without ;he sacrifice of present
position and salary. Write for Handbook "G" and iipe«lal lMtr*>
ductory terMii.

AMERICAN SCHOOL OF CORRESPONDENCE,

{Chartered by the Contmonweaith of Afmssachusetts,)

BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A.

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McCLVRirS MAGAZINE.

AMERICAN WATCH AND DIAMOND CLUB

-CO-OPCRATIVC PLAN:

^ Memben Secure Wholtsak Pricey and $1.00 Weekly Payments Jt

Costs less than 15 cents
per day to buy from us
a High Grade Watch or
Diamond • • • . •

Any Monogram. Special
Subject or Emblem, en-
srayed to order without
extra charsfe • • • •

A DESIRABLE STYLE — A plain open-face case with mompgrAwm
richly engraved^ either Elgin ^ Waltkam^or Reming^on^/ull Jj itnJ
tj ruby jexveled adjusted moxtemeut. : : .• .* .• .• .• .• .•

Any Size, Ladies' or Gents* Open or Huntiaf Case

ioin one of our Clubs and secure a high-grade Watch, $x8, $35, $a8, or $35; or Diamond, $20, $30, $40, S50, S75* o'
xoo. Privilege of $x.oo per week, or $5.00 per month payments. Our co-operative plan secures vou the wrbole-
sale cash price, and the benefit of the easy Savings Bank method of payment. Besides you have the oae of
watch or diamond while paying for it. Watch or diamond shipped on receipt of first payment and references.
Catalogue and testimonial letters tell all about it. Address

- - 60 Oriel Bld^., Cincinxt&ti, O.

THE WALKER-EDMUND CO., Mgrs.,

Don't Waste the Summer

study Jour. ^ ^%Wli

xmUsm. We fit f^^^fSc^'^
you for practi- &L^S^^^^^__^
cal newspaper /^STIIDY/
work, for short ^^^j
story writinsT
and magrazine
literature, or
improve your
literary
talent.

Study Engri-

neering. We

prepare you for

railroad8,8teara

structural en-

grlneering, etc.;

architectural

and mechanU

cal draftinjr,

etc. Grarlu-

^ ation with

?^ dejrrees.

Complete Schools alao of 8cleBoe.Bookkeeplac •"<> Shorthand.
Write for aanoaucement of school In which yua sru Interested.

NATIONAI. CORRESPONDENCE INSTITUTE ,

81.60 Sad NstloMal Bank Bnlldlnc, Wadilnctoa, D. C. '

• •• • ^

Unmounted Photographs

of Works of Art and
Views from all Parts of
the World. Cabinet size
albumen prints, $1 50 per
dozen. Carbonettes in
brown and gray tones,
6x8, 30c. each ; ox 12,
80c: 12x16, $1.25. Print-
ed Catalogues of 18,000 subjects 15c. Illus-
trated Catalogue of 3600 Art Subjects, $2.00.
Lantern slides made to order. Agents
wanted in Art Classes and Women's Clubs.

SOULE PHOTOGRAPH CO.,

»S4 WashlnfftOD St.
Boston, MaBM.

C,^,^* f /^C£^«. To introduce THR 4RT ITTmrUAISflK into arw
^H*^*** VyiICr# homes, and that every McClURK reader may see

the hi(;h character of our work, we will send to any address, for •ally W
ceMi«, a specimen copy, with two beautiful companion picture* R apg m ami
Vlolct«— each 8 x 3s i°- These two studies alone sell for $t.oo and are t^
finest examples In color that have ever been issued. As this offer is limbed
you should order at once.

For #1.00 will be sent, by return mail. 6 trial numbers, with ts cok» pic-
tures and 13 design supplements. (Yearly, #4.90.)

Special SubAcrlptlon OflTer until June ist only.— For #<.00 yoo wfil
Kct THK ART l\TKI{(ilA\6K for 6 months, besinnin^ July. and we wfll send
you free the six months' numbers from January to June, thus givini; ytn
the entire year of 1900 for OBly #8.00 (re^lar price being f4.oo). We «aaft
all readers of McClukb'S to become subscribers to this most |M«ctiraJ bc«fe
and art magazine, and for this reason make such an unusual half-prfoe o^rt.
All the superb color and other supplements will be included. To secsfv
advantage of this oiler yoti should remit 41reet to us without delay, lilss-
trated Catalogue IVee.

THE ART INTERCHANGE, 9 West 18tb St, New Yark

<£

'doplet Sepias

Our Copley Prints in a new tone.
Thegenuifteonly //yCURTlS& Cambron :
their initials, C and C, in lower cor- ^^
Titt oit^ch genuine yi'mX^ thus; ^t^
At Art Stores or of the Publishers. We
send on approval. Cataloprue, illustrated, loc
(stamps). Beautiful pictures for

.MebbinG (Bit ts.

CURTIS A CAMERON

24 Pierce Building

Boston

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iteCLtfttS'8 MAOAZam.

Foot
Comfort.

IN the Spring more than at any
time should th,- item of perfect
fit in shoes be carefully consid-
ered. The feet are then sensitive
and easily distressed. Misfit
shoes will tire a woman more
til an exertion.

QLJEEN OyALlTY SHOES are
scienlitically modelled. They
are made of high grade leathers
and combine Fashionable Ele-
gance with F&oi Comfort and
Excellent Service. Styles for
every occasion and all uses;
Street, Dress, House,
Outing, All at one price,
S 1 . ot ) . (Ox ford s S- . =;o )

STAMPED ON SOLE

rmos.o.

BICKFORD

Sold by
Only One Dealer in a Town

Fast color eyelets used
exclusively. Never grow
brassy.

Our Catalogue

shows our many
styles and will be
sent FREE with
address of local
dealer on request.
Boots sent prepaid
for $^2S. (Ox-
fords $a. 75.)

P. S. — In Canada
and countries where
duty is paid :
Boots

Oxfords

ST.. BOSTON.

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MeCLURE'S MAQAZimS.

hmii

.WASHINQ
n,COMPOUN0

Out of sorts

with
Soap Powders ^
- then your pack-
age does not look
like this
Never acofflplaint

f Pearline

Trade Mark Registered.

facial blemishes,
feet "

WILL develop or reduce
any part of the body.

A Perfect Complexioo Beaatlfieraod

Remover of Wrinkles.

Dr. JOHN WILSON OIBBS*

THE ONLY

Electric iVlassag:e Roller.

(Patented United States, Europe. Canada,

Cuba, etc.)
"A new beautifier which \% warranteil t« fr»-
dtict a perfect com};t\ex\on, retmn/iHfwriHklts
and a// facial blemishes. WUI develop or re-
duce, as desired. A very pretty addition to the
toilet-table."— CA^4fv> Tribune.
*' This delicate Electric Beautifier remores all

It is theffM^K PcrUive remover of wrinkles and crow's-
It never £fiils to perform all ttiat is expected."— CAwajfo Times-HertUd.

The Electric Roller is certainly productive of ifood results. I be/irve it
the test of any of ^Nances. It Is safe and effective."

-HARRIBT HUBBARO AYKR. New York Wortd.

FOR MASSAQB AND CURATIVE PURPOSES.

An Electric Roller in all the term implies. (Rollem aiametlsed or
•tUielied to batteries are not Eleetrle Rollem.) The Invention
of a physician and electrician known ttiruu^hout this country and Eurojie.
A most perfect complexion beautifier. Will remove wrinkles, "crow-feet"
(premature or from ajfc). and all facial blemishes— POSITIVE. Whenever
electricity is to be used for massaifine or curative purposes, it has no equal.
No ckargiMjr. ft^i/l Uat forever. Always ready for use on ALL PARTS OF
THE BODY. Tor all diseases. For Rheumatism. Sciatica. Ncuralifia. Nervous
and Circulatory Diseases, a specific. The professional standing of the inven-
tor, with the approval of this country and Europe, is a perfect cfuarantee.
PRICE: Gold, $400; Silver, fi.oo. By mall, or office of Gibbs' Com-
pany. 1870 Broadway. Nrw York. Book free.

Poaltlvely, the Only Eleetrle MaiiMice Roller.
ALL OTIIBRS 80 CALLKD OR HAdNBTIZKn ARI FRACDtLntT.

" Can Uke a pound a day off a patient, or fut it on."—Neip York Sun,
August 30, 1891. Send for lecture on " Great Subject of Fat," and Blank.
No DIetlac. No Hard Work.

DR. JOHN WILSON OIBBS' OBESITY CURE

For the Peraianeat Rodaetioa aad Care of Ohenlty.

Purely VegeUble. Harmless and Positive. RO FAiLrRK. Your reduction
Is Msured— reduce to stay. One month's treatment. $&. 00. Mail, or office,
i 370 Broadwar. New York. RRDCCnoa fiUARANTKKD.

•*Ono^ • -«

-The<

ruT, '^ _

robcsity. Dr. Gibbs is'the recoirnited authority."—^. K Press, 1899.
• to bued on Nature's laws."— AT. Y. HtreUd, July 9, 1*93.

AT HARD>VAR£r. HOUSCFURN ISUING
AND DErPARTMENT STORES

THE GAS STOVE UTENSIL Ca 73 nWSiAXSt Ntwlfart^

pteMC mention McClure*t when you write to advertiserR

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McOLUBE'8 MAGAZINE.

We have no agents or branch stores. All orders should be sent direct to us. | |

New Summer j
Suits/5J

We have just received from abroad some entirely new
styles in Suits and Skirts for summer wear. We have had

these illustrated on a
Supplement Sheet,
which will be sent
free, together with
our Spring Catalogue
and a choice collec-
tion of samples of
suitings, to the lady
who wishes to dress
well at moderate cost.
We make every gar-
ment to order, thus
insuring that perfec-
tion of fit and finish
which is not to be
found in ready-made
goods.

We pay all express
charges.

Our catalogue illus-
trates :
New Designs la Summer Suita, $4 up.

In Flque, Crash. Cotton Covert Cloths, Duck, Linens, etc.

Yachting and Outing Suits, $4 up.
Tallor'Made Suits, $S up.

Ill Allwuol Serires, Cheviots. Broadcloths. Covert Cloths.
Venetians, etc.

Extra Values la Duck, Pique and Crash
Skirts, S3 up.
Separate Skirts, $4 up*

lAneA with r<'riaUne. well stiffened an-! l«o.ind«fth Corduroy; made of All-wool Cloths,

Serges, Chcviois. ctu.. in Hie latest effects.

Special Values la Bicycle Suits la newest fabrics, $5 up.
Separate Bicycle Skirts, $3.50 up.
Ralny'Day Suits and Skirts made of doubie-face materials.

Our line of samples includes the newest materials, many of them being exclusive novelties not shown elsewhere. We also
have a special line of black goods and fabrics for second mourning. All orders filled with the greatest promptness ; a suit or
skirt can be made in three days when necessary.

Write to-day for Catalogue, Supplement and Samples ; you will get them/r^r by return mail.

THE NATIONAL CLOAK COMPANY, 119 and lai West ajd Street, New York.

V€€€€€€€€C€CC€C€CCCC€€CC€€CC€CCWi€CCC€C€€CC€CC€W>C^

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MeCLURE'3 TdAOAZiyE.

■um-

Healthy Food

The cereal made of hard Spring wheat, noted for its health-giving,
strength sustaining qualities, rich in gluten and phosphates, is

Pillsbury's Vitos

The ideal wheat food. All grocers sell Pillsbury's Vitos.
Ask yours for book of Pillsbury's Recipes — Free.

Pillsbury- Washburn Flour Mills Co., Ltd., Minneapolis, Minn.

Makers of Pillshury's Vitos and PllUlmry's On is.

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McOLURE'8 MAGAZINE.

ii5end for our FREE book!

of 72 pages, " The Test of Time." In it you will probably find a letter from

some neighbor or friend that is just as strong as the following from the

Rev. JOS. A. 56155, D. D., Philadelphia. Pa.
Messrs. OSTBRMOOR & Co., 1338 Spring Garden Street. Ian. xo, 1900.

Sirs :— I have had one of your Patent Elastic Felt Mattresses In constant use
for twenty-eigiit years past— it is not in the least matted down, but is just as soft,
clean ana elastic as when new, although the ticking is very badly worn, so that
1 think re<overing is necessary.

1 certainly would not have a mattress for personal use except the Ostermoor
Patent Elastic Felt, for there is not. to my knowledge, anything so satisfactory
and enduring as your mattress possible to be obtained. Surely the sight of this
twenty-eight year old mattress, and my remarkable experience, must convince
doubters, if any are left. The Lutheran Theological Seminary at Mt. Airy, we
furnished throughout with your mattresses, where they are ^oving just as

satLs£sctory.

Yours truly.

JOS. A. SEISS.

15.

Express

Prepaid
to your door.

The Ostermoor Patent
Elastic Felt Mattress,

is always "SENT ON SUSPICION," which means just this: SLEEP ON IT 30 NIGHTS and if it is not
even ail you have hoped for, if you don't believe it to be the equal in cleanliness, durability and
comfort of any $50 hair mattress ever made, you can get your money back by return mail —
" no questions asked.** There will be no unpleasantness about it at all.
Send for Our Book ••THE TEST OF TIME,"
whether you need a mattress now
or not. It will interest you to
know about the best and cheap-
est mattress in the world.

$8.35

lO.OO

11.70

AT.T.

• FEET

8ZN0HS8

LOHO.

3 feet 6 inches wide, 25 lbs.
3 feet wkle, 30 lbs.

3 feet 6 Inches wide, 35 lbs.

4 feet wide. 40 lbs.
4 feet 6 Inches wide, 45 lbs.

Made in two parts, 50 cents extra.

Take Care I Don't Be Cheated f There is not a single store in the country that carries our mat-
tress ; almost every store now has an imitation so-called " felt," which is kept in stock to sell on our adver-
tising. Our nam* andguarantte on every mattress. Can be bought only of

05TERM00R & COMPANY, iia Elizabeth Street. New York.

We have cushioned iSJOOO Churches. Send/or our booh **Church Cushions.**

»ooo»oooooo»»o»o»oooo»»»o»»oo»oo»oo»»»»»oo»»ooo»»»oooo»o»oo»o»oo

A Qoodform Closet Set

will make your closet look like this
picture. Try it six months. Money
back if you say so.

Men's Set. 12 garment yokes, 6 nickel - plated
trousers hangers, 2 shelf bars and i loop.

Women's Set. 12 garment yokes, 12 skirt hangers,
2 shelf bars and 2 loops. See loop on door.

Sets $3.00 each — two in one shipment, $5.50,
express paid.

Ours is the famous automatic nickel-plated trousers
hanger. Sample, one, 30c.; four, $1.00; six and i loop,
$1.50 delivered. Sold in first-class dry goods stores and
by clothiers and furnishers. Booklet showing men's and
women's sets free for the asking. Remit to us if not
found in your city.

CHICAGO FORM CO., S3, 125 U Salle St., Chicago

Send ao money to us if you are near any of the following
" * ' Agents:

Selli

Boston— R. H. White & Co.
Hartford— Brown, Thomson & Co.
ProTidence— Callendar, McAusUn &

Troup Co.
Brooklyn— Fred 'k I^oeser & Co.
New York City— Hamlltons, ajd ajid

6th Avenue.
Buffalo. N. Y.— Wm. HengererCo.
Watertown, N. Y.-Jas. R. Miller.
Jersey City— Wood & Menaeh.
Washington. D. C.-E. H.Morsell.
Pittsburgr- Jas. Phelan.
Detroit— Hunter & Hunter.
Grand Rapids— Gardiner & Baxter.
Cincinnati— Pickering Hardware Co.
Sandusky, O.— Harris & Schumacher.
Columbus, O.— Cooney & Co.
Indianapolis— Paul H. Krauss.

San Francisco— Palace Hardware Co.
Denver— Daniels & Fisher.
Butte. Mont.— Hennessy Merc. Co.
Lawrence, Kas.— Wm. Bromelsick.
Chicago- Marshall Field & Co.

" Schlesinger 8t Mayer.

Albany, N. Y.-W. M. Whitney fit Co.
Omaha— Havden Bros.
AUentown, Pa.— Hess Bros.
Newark, N. J.— L. S. Plaut & Co.
San Luis Potosi, Mexico— I. H Farwell
St. Louis— Simmons Hardware Co.

" Ladies' Outfitting Co.

Cleveland— Levy & Steam.

TheWyCo.
Racine, Wis.-Willlams & Breese.
Milwaukee, Wis.-Gimbel Bros.
St. Paul— Shuneman & Evans.

Please mention McQure*8 when you write to

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MeCLURBPS MAGAZINE.

HOODS
TOOTH
POWDER

** Everybody Says

It is Excellent."

It thoroughly cleanses and whitens
the teeth, has no unfavorable action
on their substance and does not
irritate nor inflame the tissues of
the mouth. It hardens and reddens
the gums, neutralizes all acid se-
cretions and sweetens the breath.

Large Bottle, 26c.

Mammoth Size,
Three times as much. GQC*

Free Sample.

C.I.Hood&Co.

Lowet), Mass.

HOODS

Medicated

SOAP

The Best For

Everybody's Skin.

Cleanses, disinfects, heals, makes
and keeps the skin pure and healthy;
beautifies and preserves the com-
plexion; lathers easily and abun-
dantly, has a delicate fragrance, and
is without an equal for the nursery,
toilet^ bath, and shaving.

Trial size, lOc.
Full size, 25c.
Free Sample.

C. I. HOOD & CO.,

Lowell, Mass.

JUST ONE SUPPORTER

Thai

the

waisi

round

To GET and KEEP
a PERFECT
FIGURE you

must Mreai*

the Combined Belt and
Front Pad

Foster Hose Supports

See that the uatnti FOSTER ^« on er^ry jMii»*.

Flrst-cla«8 Dealers sell them; If not , writ^iia. When order-
ing be sure and give your heifi^ht and waist mea^sure.
8TER HOSE 8UPPORTE

THE FOSTER HOSE SUPPORTER COMPANY,

THE PANEL OP ELASTIC QORINO

in both Shoes and Oxfords causes them to

FIT EITBER BlflH OR LOW IWSTtP PHffECUl

and to yield to every action of the foot.

They are made of the Choicest Kid, in Black or Tan, in aH
sizes, in all the latest shapes of toe. and all widths from A to EE.

McKay Sewed Lace Boot, $3.25; Oxfords* $2^S
Hand Turned Lace Boot, $3.50; Oxfords, $2*50

All Kid or with Fancy Vesting Tops at same price.

Sent Express Prt^aid upon receipt of price and »5 cents.

THE RICH SHOE CO.
Dept. L. Milwaukee, Wis

WrhB for
WuMtnted
Catmlogue

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MeCLURir8 MAOAZINE.

TKSS

vocAnoiv

ITS €|UAUnrOF
ITS TO]lX!

ORGANS built
on the Vocalion
system are pre-
eminently fitted for
church services. They
have a full, rich dia-
pason tone and a pe-
culiar delicacy in the
string registers which
make them of inesti-
mable value as an
accompaniment to
the human voice.

Styls 11. Pricb, $i,ioo.
Other ftylet from $175 to $3,ooac

THK VOCAnOIV
OSC^AIV COSEPAIVY

19 ^fTest TwentT-tlitrd
litreet, IVew ITork City

Fleminf & Cimrick PrcM, New York

ITS llI£TKO» OF
TOIVE-PRO]>UC-
TIOIV 19 RAl^I-
CAULIT RIFFCK-
EIVT won Alii
OT^LEIM

We wish to call the attention of
all church societies contemplating the
purchase of an organ to our Style iz.

Organs will be shipped on ap-
proval to Intending purchasers who
are unable to call at our warerooms.
Details upon request. Write for
Catalogue A.

The distinctive fea-
tures of the Vocalion
are:

Tonal ftiiperlorlly;

Compactness of
form in propor-
tion to capacity;

Tarlety of reri*-
tratton; and

Price.

POTOTWWWVWl

Mrs^ Elizabeth Cady Stanton f^^

:e sreat pleasure in recommend-

__j the Lewis Union Baits for women in all
stations. Drees has so mnch to do with health.
Nothing could be more beantif nl and desirable than the Tarions materials of which the

LEWIS UNION SUITS

Mr« Knitted. Verily they are a dream of beauty, and even

ae Bhonld try them for the coming eammer."— Elizabeth
d7 Stanton.

A Prmalaeiit Ofllc«r Wrlt«'«i "I have worn Lewt* Union
Bnitafor yearn with every Batisfaction in •tyle, material
and fit, and my wife nays she 'cannot get along without

J is now tMting th«m In the Tropicfi. A Rummer campaigu in Cuba convinced me

ther« are none ko good oa your 8ll«Tiixirx UvioN Suits."
"Send sample fabrics so that I may order for spring."— U. S. Consul. Muxico.
Thear tettimonialt prov€ that f%*r SaatMcr Wear Bllkriae IJbIini Salts ar« the hlf he«t trade of knit4o-fit psrfsctlon,
for eoolncH and comfort. For thoir psrfeetlon, inlth, comfort, flt and dtirabllity la woar eonsidorod, although thoy are the best
markot thoy ars absolutely tho eheapect In the snd. Atk your doalor for thoM Suits. Don't accept a tubctltate. but Mnd 2-c«nt sti
illostralMl (from life) catalogue, sample fabrics— liosn, silk, slltrlno, litlo, Balbriggaa and wool— and tsatiiaonials that prove all our

204- Main Street, Janeeville,

bBWIS KNITTINQ COMPANY,

good* on the
UBD for new
claims.

Wis.

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmi

MAAAiMMifllAAAAAAAAAAAAi

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McCLXTRE'S MAGAZINE.

OUT OF SIGHT'' TROUSERS RACK

I
1

HBi^ 1

'fli

H^^^H[ >; n

^Hl - J

Saves Time,

Saves Trouble,

Saves Space,

Saves Trousers and

Saves Profanity

A handy device to attach to your closet or
bed-room door, keeping your trousers in
proper shape and in Kmall space. Simple to
put up— easy to operate. Handsomely fin.
ished in hard wood, all metal parts of brass.
Does not mark or stretch the material. Savrs
pressing, saves time, saves trouble. Holds
from one to ten pairs of trousers, and each
pair readily get-at-able. Hangs all your neck,
ties too. Indispensable when you once ^rt
it. Comes apart and goes in your trunk ready
to use anywhere.

Don't Hang Up this Opportunity but Hang Your Trousers on it

Price $9.60 delivered, all charges prepaid. Satisfaction guaranteed. Buy a rack and give it 10 days trial. If not satUfaaory, money
promptly returned. Send for illustrated booklet. * m * ,, ^.j

THE O. O, 8, COMPANY, Pept, C, 914 Walnut Street, Phiiadeiphia, Pa,

Chid Cuffs

Tbe latest idea— a linen cuff
flta well, looks well, wfara
well. Does not crack or
fmy.sets jierfeetly. Keeps
the sleeve In shape. Tho

correct cutT for all occsilon*.
Scot 41reet prepaid on receipt
of price, 15 ct.«. per pair, $3.00
perdoien. l-ldre**

Chid Cuff Company,

012 IJpplnrntt UnlldlBC,

I>hn«dclphla.

New

Buggy S2G

nous nustories produdnff

Two enormous

^les by automatlo machlneiT, fr. .
materials bought for cash. We soil
direct and SAVE DEALERS
\PROFiTSm Can'tBtopmnning
J factories. Enormous sacrl-
^UccsoDorerstockcd lines. Writo
* Immediately for special offer.
UNION BLOGY COMPANY. tUi Ssfisaw Street PONTI AC, MICH.

18 YOUR INSTEP LOW?

GILBERT'S HEEL CUSHHHR

IVcrn insidt the skot^^

Arch the Inatcpw Increaaa
Heiirttt. Make Better Fittmff
Shoe*. Remore Jar la WaXk*

■- ing. Indoncd by physkiass.

-^ r- ,.^ .^W4, .**» down. Don't require lanrer shoes. \L la..

i^ ^i *^* Soc per palr.^ At .hoe and^departaoit sl«cs. '* ^
I D . S^H.^^.I''* '^**' *'**«''* dwired. and le. Mmp for psir oa

>u. '-<^^*^GIl^MTMFQ.CO,63ElfflSt.JIOCte«ir,I.T.

HARDY

Rhododendrons, Axaleas. Rooea,
Evergreens, Shrubs, Japanese
Maples, Shade Trees. Plandog

ftlans, estimates and suggestioas
umished.

HIRAM T. JOXES, Uaion CmmtylTiirserlet, KUzttetk. V. J.

FAYSTOCKmas

I fl I FDR LADIES AID CmLDIO

. . Up to stay. Batton to wal*.

oal fbr bealtb, durabUlty or comfbtt^

»rf<>ifuer. ""

No t_^.

Bavenoc

Ideal stockinff for nemmer or wilder^ Two sep>
afste parts. ChUdren's, 25 eta. to 45 cts. Iedles\
65 cts. to «5 ctB. If not kepi by roar dealer!
sent on approral, pottfxtUi, on receipt of wtee.
Clrcnlars ftee. Try them,
THE FAT STOCKHrO CO, 56 B 81^ Bjite, O.

Write for our

Spring
Supplement

showiftjir the latest
Belt Clasps and
Rings ^ and how
they are to be worn;
also other
novelties and some
suggestions for

WeddlttgQIftsIn
SteHIng Silver.

No. 3S<a. SASH BELT RINC.S .

No. 3503, Same. IieavSly fflded

-"'-rv^'

'♦V'l' ■ .

•?!5J .

DANIEL LOW & CO.,

. /

All SuiUng Silver, heavy and well made. Illustration actita

sue. Similar cle<>it;n, sirallcr pop|.|fs. No. 1504. #1.8&. St^mc ^

Jicavtly jrildcd. No. 3^5. tl.Ta. These rlnjr* are for mounting on a sash belt abi
snorter tlian the waist measure. Pieces of r^ in. rihhon. sewed on each end. p
the opposite rinj^ and tie In a bow knot, talcing^ the plate of a clasp.

5ILVERSMrrH8 ... 998 ESSEX STREET. SALEM, MASS.

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McCLURETS MAGAZINE.

By fastening them with pins. Neither tuck ihcm in the
child's neck to make him uncomfortable and to fall
constantly in his plate. Fasten them securely with the

NAPKIN HOLDER

Made with the Washburnc'a Improved Patent Fasteners.
Holds with a firm grip. Instantly released by lifting the
little iever. Made with a silk cord two inches long. It is
easy to substitute a longer cord or an elastic \t desired.
BY HI A Hi, 90c.
lUustrattd booklet of tkt Waskbume attackmtntsp fre€ en request.

THE AMERICAN RING CO..

Box K, Waterbury, Conn.

for Neck Comfort

the collar above shown, and for stand-
ard stales those shown below, illustrati.'
the wide ranye of our Helmet Brand.
We are "up with the times" in style,
but maintain our "old time" reputa-
tion of best eoods for the least cost.
We make Collars and Cuffs — nothintf
rise. Ask for Helmet Brand Collars
-~\^ cents each, two lor 25 cents, if
your dealer does not sell them, send
to us, stating size.

All our styles are illustrated in a
catalogue sent free, which also tells
men wliat to wear on all occasions.

Dcpt. B. Troy, N. Y.

Corliss, Coon & Co.

HELMET*
BRAND

^c»

Su^pend^rs

Good Judges Know ^ \

They are all that suspenders I
should be — stretch only when you
do and do not lose their stretch as |
others do.

The •• CheKter *' at JSOc. A cheaper model at 25c. Sam-
pic pair*, poatpaJd, on receipt of price. Nickeled drawers
bupfKjrters free to purchaetrs for dealer's iiaine if he it out
oltlicm. CHESTER StrSPENDER CO. iOD*oatnrAv«., Hoi.
buiy Crossing, Maju, Branch factory , Brockville, Ontario. ,

SCIO

;• RANCH to

BATTERY A

TROOP C

2l-2)H LAKEWOOD 5 f
2i-4)N OPORTO 25-4IW

Z'^ OTISCO 2 \-Z^^

AMEtR 311^
LI3C0 23'4JN

X0RLISS,CO0N&CO.,

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McCLUBE'8 MAGAZINE.

YOU will not get '"hot under the collar ^
if you wear Lion Brand goods this Sum-
mer. Their perfect unity of pattern
makes them set easily, increases their stylish
appearance, and prevents that binding which
first causes warmth, and then mops up the
perspiration, wilting coUars, cuffs and shirts
alike. A wide variety of design and style
affords satisfaction for every fancy.

Two collars or two cuffs cost 25 cents. It
doesn't pay to pay more.

Shirts cost $ J.OO, $1^ and $2.00, according
to the kind you want.
Ask your furnisher.

UNITED SHIRT & COLLAR CO., AUKERS
TROY, N. Y.

TSSFORSYTHE WAIST

Do you know tliat New
York is the c^fi^re of Fash-
ions for the United States,
and that we are the only
house in America manufac-
turing Waists exclusively for
our customers, with agents
seeking novelties in every
part of the
world? This is
why the

FORSYTHE
WAIST

is the correct
tiling. Our Mail
Order Depart-
ment brinj^s our
waists directly
to ladies in the remotest parts
of the country.

This illustrates Style No. 5,
made from genuine Scotch
Madras in over 2,000 patterns.
Price $3.50. AH sizes in
stock from 32 to 42.

The asD^ortmcntof other ma-
terials is almost unlimited.

Applications for samples,
inquiries regarding styles, and orders wili receive most
prompt and considerate attention. Address Dept. A.

JOHN FORSYTHE, Shirt Waist Maker

865 Broadway, New York. '

*pi».

The

' '^'^^lANACCOMPUSriEDl
ARTISTATSIX'

l„. '^Ith the" ADRrlus" Piano I
fPIftypf a chllf! that has nerer
lijeforpeeea a ptano can reader

■ the most difttcult composl-

Itiona In a manner poniilble

on I V to t he most accomDlUhftd

and practical pianist. I

ANGELUS

PIANO PLAYER

It Plays ar.y Flano. ,„ Any one ccn pby tt. ■

Price I

WILCOX « ¥miTC CO.

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McCLURE^S MAQAZINB.

BUYING FROM KRAMER'S SAMPLES

Saves $8 to $20

ON YOUR SUIT.

If you wl«h to be correctly droaeed In
eyerV partlcol&r— «^le, Cloth, Lining,
Workmanthlp — In fact, everything
that pertains to a perfect anit at
NO MORE EXPENSE
tium If you wore ready-made clothe*,
send for

KUMEII'S SUIPIES OF

$12 Suits

ALL WOOL GOODS

actually cut, trimmed and made to
your order In any style. Fit flniaran-
teed. We do not handle' ready-made
elothet, euatom^made clothe: tailor-
made elotheB. a« many houeet adTertlse.
but ACTUALLY MAKE each in-
dividual garment according to your
measure.

All our garments are strictly Mer-
chant Tailor Made. Other* are satis-
led. so why not make use of our tH
years' experience and hare your
elothes made by us.

Troasers $t.76 •■< mp,
BaltntlSand ap.
Fall Drens Salto •<« •■« np.
OTercoats #1S and mp.
All garments sent 0. 0. D. with privilege of examination and
tryltig on before you pay for them.

majp are the only excluslTe merchant tailors in America that
WC Prvpmj expreM charge*.

New Spring and Summer booklet with Five Reasons
Why we sell our Suits below others, with samples*
fashion plate and tape measure Free.

KRAMER & CO. Ada»iei.Bklg..De|it.l. CHICA80

We also deMlre a responsible local representative in every
City or Town where we are not already represented.

The Best Shirt On Earth

kit YODR DEALER FOR THEM, TAKE NO OTHERS
SEND FOR DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUE

CUTTER & CROSSETTE

MAKCRS
FACTORY WAREROOMS

ELGIN. ILL. CHICAGO. ILL

THE PRACTICAL

TROUSERS HANGER "•° PRESS.

is indispensable to every man whether he have few
or many clothes. It keeps trousers **5m00th 05
if ironed" — renders evfrv garment separately
** get-at-able " and doul>Ies closet capacity.

It is an absohitely perfect device in design,
finish and construction. It is as much in advance
of ail other articles intended for the same pur-
pose as the modern railroad train is ahead of the
old-time stage coach.

It has been on the market Over seven years,
during which time it has satisiied the most
exacting.

'hi ■

OUR 100 PAGE illustrated descriptive book
(free on request) contains the endorsements of
our device by more than 3000 well-known
gentlemen, every one of whom is using at least
one of our $5.00 sets.

The Five-Dollar Set, which consists of 6 " Practical "
Irousers Hangers and 3 " Practical" Closet Rods, is sent
express prepaid on receipt of price. The closet shown is
fitted with a $5.00 set. It meets the average requirements.
For $i.oa we will send prepaid one hanger and one rod
and afterward when wanted the remainder of the $5.00
set for $4.00. Single hangers. 7=; cts. : single rods, 25 cts.

GUARANTEE OFFER. I^*eC'„^f;

dayH ; if it isn't all yon expect eU or hoped for,

return It at our expense; »n<i «* will

inunediately retuiui tliu lull purchase price.

PRACTICAL NOVELTY CO

435 WALNUT ST. PHIL A, PA.

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MeCLURE^S MAGAZINE.

The Regal

SOMERSET.

Photographed from Russet Kini: Calf Shoe
(lace Style).

Russet King Calf, lace - Single Soles
Black King Kid, lace - Single Soles

Patent Calf, lace - - Single Soles
Patent Calf, congress (hlack cloth

tops, plain toe) - - Single Soles
Russet King Calf, Oxford - Single Soles
Patent Calf, Oxford - -? Single Soles

The Somerset is especially designed for those who cannot or
do not wish to wear the curved, foot-form shoe.

Price $3*

per pair.

DeliTerai, carriage dunes tftpaJd. to aajr tMnu la tht
Ualtod States, Caaada, Meiico aad Genaaay apaa noelat af Sa.7S
•er Mir. AIm to aay polat witUa the Uaita af the Parcels
Postal Service.

'I'he Regal Shoes are the most sensible shoes. to
wear. They are not all made on one last.

There are 147 different shapes and 121 different
sizes.

You get a shoe that fits your foot, not the maker's
idea of what your foot ought to be like.

For this reason Regal Shoes are perfectly com-
fortable shoes and insure strong, healthy feet.

They are just as handsome, and distinctive, and
durable, and in every way satisfactory as any shoe
you can buy anywhere at any price.

They cost but $3.50 because the Regal system
eliminates all middlemen and brings the shoes direct
from the tannery to the consumer with only one
small profit added.

If a Regal store is not convenient to you we can
fit you to your perfect satisfaction by mail, or your
money refunded.

SEND POSTAL FOR CATALOGUE T, •aA BOOKLET
ON "THE CARE OP SHOES.**

L. C. BLISS & CO-,

Mail Order Department,
101 Sammer St., BOSTON, MASS.

Weatem Branch, Mail Order Department,
103 Dcarboni St, CHICAGO, ILL.

STOKES. — Boston, 100 Summer St.; Providence, »» Westmin*
ster St.; New York, 115 Nassau St., 1347 Broadway, 291 Broadway ;
Brooklyn, 357 Fulton St., iii Broadway; Baltimore, 319 Kast Balti-
n>ore St.; Philadelphia. 1218 Market St., 8th and Chestnut Sts.;
Washington, D. C, 1003 Penn Ave.; Pittsburi;^, 309 Fifth Ave.;
Buffalo, 36a Main St.; Cincinnati, 13-15 Fountain Sq.; St. Louis
618 Olive St.; Chicago, 103 Dearborn Bt., 215 Dearborn St.; Detroit,
122 Woodward Ave.: Cleveland, 17 Euclid Ave ; Denver, 423 Six-
teenth St.; Albany, N. Y., 34 Maiden Lane ; Atlanta, Ga . 6 White-
hall St.; Milwaukee, Wis., 212 Grand Ave. Factory, Whitman,
Mass.

Rcfil Dretsllf is the finest leather preseri-ative and beautifier
that It is possible to make. Of course it is to our interest to furnish
only a dressing of the highest possible character and to make
Regal Shoes \».%\ longer ana took better than other shoes. Regal
Dressini^ is made of pure, refined oils which will give you better
satisfaction than any otlier dressing you can find. Our Traveler's
Package will be sent by mail, postpaid, or with Regal Shoes, upon
receipt of 15 cents. Large size, 30 cents.

Pleaie mentioa

McCIare*! when yoa write to adrertiKn.
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wmA

McOLUBE'S MAQAZnUE,

Nobby Suits

For Summer

AT the seashore, in the train, aboard
the Trans- Atlantic steamers, at the
summer resorts, you will see dressy
men wearing Hart, Schaffner &
Marx suits. For traveling and outing wear
our nobby sack suits have three qualities
that make them immensely popular: They
are stylish, they are durable, they are inex-
pensive. Try one of our light-weight suits
this summer "just to knock about in,'* and
you will be so well satisfied with the H. S.
& M. idea you'll want one of our business
suits for fall. We wish to remind you again
that our clothes are unlike any other ready-
to-wear goods you have ever seen or tried.
They fit, keep their shape, look better and
wear longer, because they are intelligently
cut and tailored. They have a smartness
and style your merchant tailor strives for in
vain. Whatever your requirements you can
get an H. S. & M. suit to please your taste
at a price to fit your pocket-book. We make
all the correct things: — Sacks, Cutaways,
Double-breasted Frocks, Topcoats, Raglans,
English Walking Coats, etc. Prices, Si 5 to
$^30. Style Book "D" tells all about them.
The illustration here is not a " fashion-plate **
but the portrait of a man wearing one of our
suits. It is taken from life.

OTHER STYLES IN THE OTHER
MAGAZINES THIS MONTH

Business suits, Fancy Worsted, Cassimere and Cheviot,
neat stripes, checks, plaids and mixtures, plain blue,
black or dark gray Roods, cut in regular sack or the
n«r "MUiur,-'' ..yTe, j^^ jg, 20 tO $25

SacSc suits for traveling, outing and warm-weather wear ;
fancy stripe flannels, l)lue Serges and Worsteds; coat
and trousers to wear with negligee shirt and belt. Some
of the trousers have "cuf«'* ^tyc tri ^OC
to roll up at bottom, . . ^^O ^^ 4)^D

GET YOUR SIZE

Ask your clothier for Hart, Schaffner & Marx Tailor-
made Clothes. If he cannot supply vou write at once to
us. You may know our goods by thfs trade-mark sewed

inside the collar of the coat. Glad to send you our
new Stvle-Book *'D,'* free of charge. Every man
should nave it.

Hart,Schaffner^Marx

CHICAGO

Largest Makers in the World of Fine Clothing for Men

Copynpht. 1900. Harf, Schaffner A Marx

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McCLURE'8 MAGAZINE,

Ask for It.

r;??/ /3r[ ^jVy/" \oQtieen

THE

ULTRA

SHOE

for ft ^50

women 4) J—

No matter how many shoes
you have, it is economy
to buy a pair of Ultra
Shoes. It will make all the
others wear better, used alter-
nately, and when by compar-
ison you have proved the
superior comfort and perfec-
tion of the Ultra Shoe you
will see the economy of using
it altogether.

Our earnest efforts to make
a better shoe than has been
offered you before, do you no
good unless you ask for it,
buy it and wear it. Our
guarantee protects you.

This dainty Oxford is a
Summer suggestion that has
a variety of attractive com-
panions - in our free catalogue

Oxfords, - - $3.00
Boots, - - 3.S0

Moore-Shafer Shoe H(g. Co.

195 Main St, Brockport, N. Y.

^^iL.

EA8Y
WALKING

HEELS'

Stop Pounding

oil hard leather — wasting energy— jarring
the system. Get a couple of soft spots un-
der your heels. This making the j>aths of
life uncomfortable is not only unwise, but
unnecessary when

O'SuIlivan's

can be attached to the shoes vou are now
wearing by any dealer for a trifle. But
is jumping from tlie frying
pan into the fire to ac-
cept a substitute for
O'SuIlivan's. In-
sist on having
i/i'rgin rubber if
you have to
send to Lowell
forit. Itcosts
you no more
—35c and a
trifle for at-
taching.

0*SuUivaa

Riibt»er

Co.

iESTsCO

Rfissian Bloftse
Suit

Made of light btae term, with sailor
eollar — white shield, hand embroUlrrrd
with llsht blue and white, and Isft^^s
covered with rows of white silk sonuich* ,
braid. To Im* worn with white kid or black ,
patent leather belt. Sizes 6 to 6 jsani.

$8.50.

This handsome little suit Is an ex- '
ample of the good results obtained |
from the work of specialists. Tailors ,
who make boys' clothing only are more ^
likely to make it right. This principle \
applies to every department of the Children's Store. i

Catalogue with <

Over 1,000 Illustrations I

' of everything for boys, girls and babies, from hats to \
' shoes, sent for 4c. posuge.

; 60-62 West 23d Street. New York

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Me€LUBE^8 MAGAZINE,

iw#»»#»###*»**»*<»»»»»»»

wwji

'»^i
i^'

PIN REQUISITES

Tbat it shall penetrate easily and

smoothly.
That it shall not bury its head in

the cloth.
That It shall not bend.

IThe SOVRAN PINl

MEETS THESE REQUIREMENTS
FULLY. BECAUSE I

It has a long, smooth, oval point.

It has a large, deep, convex bead,
and is easily withdrawn.

It is made of wire from a special
formula, giving it great stiffness
with the necessary flexibility.

fonilth a Mmple card of tbcae pliit, and aak that In j
^ the above reqnislteaof aptrfect pin tbey be oompared 2
r with the pina you are now ualng.

; > OAKVUC COMPANY, Waterbury, Com. ^^

They

My
roandihe
<foer sUfider
figurt.

They
conceit
the too
pronounced
carafes of the
stouter form.

Braided Wire

BUSTLES and FORilS

can't be detected. Are dainty and cool.
Braided Wire Hair Rolls are always fresh
and clean. Match any hair.

Sold in all stores. Insist on having " Braided
Wire." If you don't find them, we will send, post-
paid, on receipt of price.

Tbe WolM k Weib Mff. C«^imNable St., PUlaielpkIa

GUARANTY COUI»ON^^^

^"^ -*-ACUSHIOIIBUTTOII

^ 1I08K SUPPUBTHB

la aaftrkat««dto (ht- dealer

anda««.riixain«tiinperfcction«

l»ok for th*- Namgon evpry loop

This Yellow Coupon
is on every pair.

NEVER SUPS
OR TEARS.

"LINENE"'^"'-^''''

and CUFFS

ALWAYS 8ATI8FACTORY

Stvlisb, convenient, economical, made of fine cloth and
finisned alike on both sides. The turn down collars are
reversible and give double service.

NO LAUNDRY WORK

When soiled on both sides, discard. Ten Collars or H ve
pairs of Cuffs, asc.; t^ mmll, 30c, Send 6c. in stam (>s

tor sample collar and pair of cuffs. Name size and style.

REVERSIBLE COLUR CO., Dept. 10, Boston

Please mention McClore'a when you write to advertisers.
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MoCLUBM'8 MAQAXnfm.

HOSE
SUPPORTER

Holds the

Stockings Up

Holds the

Corset Down

Does away with

Safety Pins

Beiiv hooked on the lowest cortet claap It keeps the cwet
domulpd ch»e to the tgdy.>eyentiJMC the gotnt of ^he

enraet from promidsajr, Ifccrw

_ tlie

The'nOOKON cannot becoole unfastened; always coai-
fortable, no matter what positioa the wearer may assamc.
Made of best matenaU, and wiil wear longer than other bote
supporters. For aaU at kadta^ stucca.

Scm^ SO otatM Am- Mm^ S*^ V/*Lw**-
Sm^ 15 otttiM lor umpU pmir-^tiUm

I. a KLEINERT RUBBER CO.
724 Broadway, N€w York

D. tOFF A HONS, Pawtuckct,

is the
only perfect

THE OMO

Dress Shield

ron MIMtlNO BRESHES THERE 18 KOTniNS
EQIAL TO A ««KH» KKAin.

eOFF'S BRAIDS are the BEST MADE

TailorMadeSuiflSSi

I^utcot Myl« for Hprla^ wmA i^umtmrnrv wC fle#e.

FINE ALL WOOL ^' r'. ;* "i"" '""

hr*t. »ll ^>».>l All:) HI < LC. I M.
rich >.l^.- ;..-.. U.-i:. .- ...

with |nm HSin libbw. TV* skirt i> (^»t ffidl wM^

u liDWl and latwHaad. has tate»iiKTl« kMk.adhky

welted seMna,liaafiCnOTfttl and rtrlwh. te '

Krktly toiler aiada and worth folly 910 CnI.

of blMtk asd Ma« aalora.

SEND THIS ADV. l;;^^:;-/, "Sti

unti uiir big i-uUiluc I'oiitMlailna !■•»; «Chci __^ _
barsHlit** In nultA fr.>iu I'. U. f .tf *"*'** ^■■^^
cat>«9 ftnd tkiru nil ai wtioW*al« prim* Wa saka aft
(tratte* and Kytrt of l*dic»' ^luetiU and t^ll SS
wholesale factory pric*«. Writ*»oday.

LADIES' SUITS FREE g;^ »J;S «{|

Miilt tu near while yon are eamlnB a^^

>ji.l rbttjirc to get a luit fre« §l«>nd *•■•**•
>Mp to help pajr mailtni; char(«« f<»r aossf
t»utrit with wtiicb jrou can aaaUy eaa a Bulk
Write today.

THE C. l>OlIS VEHOH OOw
1&S W. Jackson *itr*et, Chi

IMMfe PAPER eSE£:37:S=^»SC&

IT COSTS NOTHINS

to try oor Sewing Marhfrx^. VV©
ship dlrwt fruni trnvu^vj to conso-
roer. Save airrntM profits, 30 days
frw trial. 117.500 sold. Warrastad
to ¥earfc All attachments frefc

tO.OO Arlington for.. fl4.ee

|#4&.Of> %rllnrton for ilCee

l«60.0O Kenwood for $>!.&#

[other .tl Achillea at US. eSAtll.ftO
1 Illustrated rata l<»jnic and te^tlmontala
frev. Wiiff at "rn^f f^r nr '..• lal
tiwi^ht offer. Address, CASH BrVEKS' » sloS.
108-164 W. VanDuren 8i.,B- 164, Gkl«i«*JIl.

^%%%%^%Hm^

njakT^ Own Shirt Waitisi

S Boy your exclusive Pal

r Madras and Cheviot

t PARKER A. JENK8, Hi
# Cor. Raffidolph A Dearborn I

W gaadSctaslsapeforoarllnaofiaMplM. R

Odoiiett.

Imperviout.

No Chemioalt.

No Rubber.

Washable.

Every Pair Warreiited.

Bttaiiraded for their kyclcate
«Maitlaa by JavraaU af Haidliu

1/ your deuler do^s not keep tkem^
tend 95 cent* /or smmpU ^nir to

OMO MFG. CO.

Middletowfi, Conn.

Please mention McClure's

NEW IDEA III TRUNKS

The HI aN«mui DreaMT Trsnk

{sooBstmctedaaaewpnnapies. Mawps
instead ci trays. A place lorevcnthhif

a and everytkinK m hs place. The hoMs
ms accemible as the top. DeSes the bar
smasher. Coamnasaorethaa agoai

trunk. Sent L.O.D. with 1

of exandnatkNir !>ea4 sc. stamp for Dlaa-
trated cstsktgat.

P. A. BTALLMA?!,
aa W. »»Haa SU* Calasahwa. O.

GUUIIB

KREMENTZ

ONE PIECE COLLAR BUTTON

Has the name ^ Krementz *' suraped 00 the hack, showtag qoaKty.
whether solul or plate as our plate outwears some solid htiUnna.
Beware of imiutions. You get a new one without charge in oaae
a genuine KremeittZ bolton is damajred from any cause. Special
~ styles for Ladies* Shirt Waists and ^

Children's Dresses. Sold by all
jewelers. The Story el a Callar

Bttttoa free on request.

KREMENTZ k CO.,

M CHBSTNUT ST NEWARK. N. J.

Digitized h'

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MeCLURE'8 MAOAZINB.

LADIES' SKIRTS AND J
SHIRT WAISTS. ^

^J^L Style and Quality Gnarantecd.
J^^^^H By our coupcm system a
^^^^^H $10 garment can be secured
^^^^V for

^^^V Only 35 Cents.

H^^B Remit us $2.10 for book of
M V ^ coupons, each of which
m ^ you sell to friends at 35
^ ^ cents each ($I.75\ and re-
ceive skirt or shirt waist, as preferred.
Also

$7 Taffeta Silk Skirt
for Children ''T^'iir'" 25c.

Coupon book $l.TiO. These offers are ]

perfectly legitimate and we do '

exactly as we say. Full infer- (

matioD and printed matter on ^

request.

The ••AUTO" SILK CO.,

The Arcade, 36th St.
& Cottage Grove A V . .

CHICAQO.

^^^/%/%/%^/%,%/%/%/%/%/%,^%/%^%^%/%,^

Toile'dU'Nord Qiaghata

Shirtwaist

Very styliBh, fancy special stripes ;
tiaew red* heliotrope and black, r'ast
«lors. Will launder beauUfnlly.
exceptional value for $1.00. Postpaid.
Iiiarante*^d aw represented or your
ttoneyback. Samples and Illustrated
IprlnfC FtkMhioii CataloKne of
rooda for women's wear FREK.

LADIES' SUPPLY CO.,

100-1 1 1 Wabash Ave.,
B«|it. 1 7, ChioasOt Ills.

$1.00

PostfMld.

Wanted.

»nj.L«.«.ifrP^ The "Mascot" Cuff -Holder en-
aUCKBST ] '"^ ^'^^^ y^^ ^ ^^^'^ vour rounds
" cuffs as reuersiftte link cuffs.

Thing

Eartb.

Can be used on ANY Cuff.
f Sure to please you. Fair
post paid for 15 cents.
NOVELTY M'F'G CO

Worcester^ M«ia.

All Wtol Strg> Slit

$4.95

MAM'S SUIT MADE FROM

PARKERS BEST BLUE

SERGE CHEVIOT

L famous for Its Mrfeet w«av« and rich dark blu«
Iculur. Its in« Ml wool, medium w«ifht, and will
I pofeitivcly nolfad*. OuaranlMd aqnal to others tlO.OU

it with tiaaaapar (lou farmer saUii, pad aud atiffen
DO it will cawavarataiu ita perfect ahape and acw with
|iure ftilk and linen thread.

SEND THIS ADV. {;^ •SU^'lS;.*. ^^"i

I blur HCTse clieylot aalt »a4 oar bis b*«k e«n-

tuliilns CO Ine cloth aaoipleo of other made to

rler lults f r.tin $6.96 to #tO.OO. We make all gradca

kI styles of suite to order in our own mammoth tailor

!>li ■!>» KTiil %f\\ to consumers at lowest wholesale factory

t.ii.ci Writ«i today.

MEN'S SUITS mee -;Xh' ."■:?..'r,2r.rs*.

yiiii ftrv enrning one. in addition yoa con osokc $S.60
to #&.O0 o it or while eaminc suit. H"ndreds are doing
it Vuu ran too. flEND ONE «.CENT 8TAMP to

)i«lp pay ni idling charges for complete outfit with which
yuu can eatilv earn a suit and make big wages. Write today.

THE €X LOUIS TEHON CO..

, 1&6 W. Jiiikaoo Street,

Chlei«o,IU.

KLEINERTS I

olympiaI

Dress Shields \

:l. B.

I'he Olympia is the only perfect
shield, and the shield that gives more
satisfaction , wear and comfort than
any other. 1 1 is the only shield that
can be

WASHED

and IRONED

IT IS ODORLESS

and will not rot or
deteriorate with age.
Our guarantee with
every pair.

Send 25c

for sample pair and
be convinced.

KLEINEI^T RUBBER COMPANY:

734 BROADWAY. NBW YORK

SIOOO

I YEARLY SALARY.

>aiea and woosea of good address.

Ueal eatplojaaeBt fbr asea and woasea of eood address.
Our General Agents do nocanvassing. but actoalv a« employ*
cri. Making work dignified and agreeable. New brilliant
lines. Local agents and local field managers also wanted.
Steady positions. RIgpay. Experience unnecessary. Address
BUlXUs AlifiKB. A CJO^ • »«w T "

STEWART'S

Duplex Safety Pins

Fasten from either side but do not slip
through. Effective guard. Imitated but
not duplicated by any other maker.

HAVE

'« Consolidated Safety Pin Co."

ON EVERY CARD
None genuine without our name oa card.

If dealers cannot supply you, send 3 two-cent
stamps for sample of 12 assorted sizes.

CONSOLIDATED SAFETY PIN CO.

BOX 18. BLOOMFIBLD, N. J.
AlMO auUien of HoMhui Hmlrplaa

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Me€LURS''S MAOAZUfE.

ft9, utile r^ pending

The New

and

Improved

Irwin Bath Cabinets

TurkUh
Thermal
or Vapor

contain alt the best features of all the other cabinets with several entirely new- ones ftillv protected bf
patents, makine them the "only perfect Bath Cabinet*;." They arc absolutely the only Cabinets autawiatic'
oily con<itrtictea so that you can supply yourself with drink ini; water and mop or sponxe itHir face wiihrmi
assistance. They are self- purifying, ine rx>xious gases frwm [Kire-i being prnmptly removea and repUced b>
fresh heat, c.irr> in;j its full quota of oxygen, which equal! les and stimulates its effect. Better resuU* ai

..- , ....„ „. quota of oxygen.

lower temperature and without oppression.

u nil II. 11 equal! 1

L^itest improved heating apparatus.

Turkish Baths and ail kinds of Medicated and Perfumed I a for Bathn at h^rme at a .*»«/ <»/ ffnlyjgtmU
fKT bath. Will t>rtak w/ a Cold or the Crif immediately, and cnre or relieve most any disease.

The Most Complete Une of Bath CaMneta in the World.

Newest Designs, Latest Improvements and Patents. We make Cabinets from 93*50 t'^ 91^8*50.

Be sure to send for our catalo£ne before buying a Bath Oibittet if you wtint to have Ike be it.

SPECIAL PRICES WHERE WE HAVE NO RKPKISl-.N TAIIVE. We jjive better value f..r
money than any one. Bew^tre of catch-penny methods and inislr;iding offcrm. Book " Health and Beauty
'""«•«■ ACSKNTS WANTEIIt one sold 1,000 in four months.

E. IRWIN MANUFACTURING CO., 123 Chambers St., New York.

/GOUT & RHEUMATISM

UMtba Great English Remedy I

BLAIR'S PILLS

Safe, Sure, Lf f ective. 50c* A $f I

DRDGGISTS, or 324 Will la m St., N. Y. f

■ NOSE.TtmdM'S

BEN-MYR

lielps you breathe, cleans the throat and liint4S,
\% lieafinK and southing-, Fspecialljr valtiahle in
\Vhf><»pinjj Coiijfh, Croup, Asthma, Head Col'ls,
irrh. H:ir Kt-vcf, CJrippe, Consumption.

FDFF OFFFD* '^^ p''"^*^ >^ ^^^^ ^^ ^'i'

I IVl^L. Ul I L«IV« ^nd^ postfwid, « wimple free,
: a l.ir^f p.H k.n:e for to t rriti«. Write l«i-(f(iv.

The EUCALOL CO., IM Poltoti Strtet. New York.

ALLEN'S FOOT=EASE

A Powder for the Feet-

8hfike Into Your Shoes
A.llon^8 !■ cK,t— E.iH*., a |ifi\^ilrr tor Ibr
feel. It ourea pamrui* Bwolli-n, rauuttn^.
DMrvoas feet, and instaatlj takes tbe aiiac
tmt of cortiB ami tmniona. 1 t'a tke flwiaiv
mt comforK dHacoverjr of Kbo ««••
Allen's Foot— Baae makM tiffbt-ftttiair oc
rt«w !ib(»H?4 fe«l e«af> ItUaoortain cfiit^fM-
inKrowinir niiils, MTMatina, oalloas and hot.

mani,-,!,. f KY yt TO.DAT. Sow h9

alt Iirti|r(;jat Hand 9b<w8iot«ii,Ve. ]>•■•€
ft ere III itn lailtatlMi. Bene IqrBail 9m

•i:tc. in ^tiitnr*.

"Oh.WhatRest

and Comfort !"

POee TRIAI. PACK AGS

r riBC MDi by mail. Addrwa

ALLEN S. OUBTED, U Rof, N. T.

Mantlon thiaraairaaing)

\aaa/v\aaaaa/\aaaaa/na/\aAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaAAa

OUR HEALTH HOME

ThtStMkMSaaHarimi

HwotUcvllte^ N. V.

Charming location.

Buildings modem and *
complete.

Unsurpassed for thor-
oughnew of equipmrat.

Highest medical «ktll.

E%-er>- form of bath <
and electricity.
Wrtf for knchmrw to<
Dr. J. E. Walker, ;
ttorfMltevine, N. Y.

THEMAQNETKC HEAUMQ CUP

This Clip is a iboroughlj Hclentiflo diMcovery. It heals every II Mike magic and cnres all romni oC
dlseaM without the Ui^uf dnigii by directly Increasing the vital beallng furre and rsetorlag to their
normal Ktateali functions of the body. It haw rwulted In marvelous euiea in thouaantis of casrw of
KHBVMATUM. DTSmtlA. OOHltlPATZOF. HXftVOVl P&OSTKATIOH, XHlOlOnA. BIADAOn.
LXVKR aad EZOHBT TIOVBLB, and aU othar form^ uf db»ea»e.

Tbe Mm^n^Ue H^miing Cup !« the wonder of all who have investigated lis merits and hava
««een the rnr«*» perfonn*Mi hr Its hm. The testimony of tho»e who have been cured is the best evldeace
of iu merits Each cup will last a year and i-an then be rechanred It ifi nhsoluteiy harmless— a child
.>an use it - and it will not interfere, but rather assist In any other treatment yoti may be aslag.

^ ^» ^ ^ If yon will enclose a description of your case whsn onleHng the

rrOO i f^OJUiliOiif cnp. yon will recelre a personal letter, written by one of oar medi-
cal consultants, thst will give you explicit directions for the treatment of your case.
Bead for free Beak!et aaataiaiaff tall duamlptlM aad iMtfoMaiala.
Airenta wanted eTerjrwhere. Wrtte for particulars.

JO MEAUmm OUm Q»^ mmmmaoJ^^mmiWtiom Bhtm', Mimikm Jl

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UeCLUBirS MAOAZINB.

rftan^

The only natural and
perfect skin purifier, pre-
servative and beautifier is

CASSANDRA CREAM

It removes pimples,
wrinkles and other disfig-
urements, and makes the
skin strong but velvety.

It is a natural skin ftxxl
and builds up and fortifies
the skin as well as making^
it smooth and beautiful.

The well known writer,
Evelyn Hunt, in a book
called "Womanly Beauty"
(regular price 50c), tells
women how to acquire
and retain a lovely face
and figure.

If you have not read
this bcok you ought to.

VVe will send you a
copy free, together with a
trial size box of Cassandra
Cream and a trial cake of
Cai^andra Soap, on receipt
of ten cents.

THE

MARILLA COMPANY,

■ 08 Fulton St.,

New Yoric.

: ^r Shaving Outtit

Contains our own make, full con-
' caved FOX RAZOR (sute if you
wish narrow, medium or wide
blade, square or rounded point),
a genuine Horsehide and linen
web double swinfr Strop, a col- |
lapsing Badger hair lather brush, shaving.stick, astring-
ent pencil. Cosmetic, Magnesia and Aluminum Comb.
EveiT Article A No. 1 aid filly warrutcd. Put up in plush
lined leather covered case. Sent prepaid on receipt of
83.00J or on receipt of 50 cts., balance C.O.D., with privl-
less sf exaalutlM. We made Fox Razors for over as
years and fvarulee to please ymi. .

We rrind, kone and repair Rasora. Write ■«.

FOX CITTLERY CO. off New York, 48 Center Street

AdJrfs r ordersand re/air itwrk to 936 Main St., Dnhuquf, /ou<a.

Millions of Women

Use CuncuRA Soap excltisively for preserving, purifying,
and beautifying tlie skin, for cleansing the scalp of crusts,
scales, and dandruff, and tiie stopping of falling hair, for
BoftenlDg, \(-hltenlng, and healing red, rough, and sore
hands, in the form of bath9 for annoying Irritations, inflam-
mations, and chaflngs, or too free or offensive perspiration.
In the form of washes for ulcerative weaknesses and for
many sanative antiseptic purposes which readily, suggest
themselves to women, and especially motliers, for all the
purposes of the toilet, batli, and nursery, and for preserving^
and pnrir> Ing the skin, scalp, and hair of infants and chil-
dren. No other medicated soap ever compounded Is to be
compared with It for preserving, purifying, and beautifying
the skin, scalp, hair, and hands. No other foreign or do-
mestic toilet soap, however expenalve, is to be compared
with it for nil the purposes of the toilet, bath, and nursery.
Thus It combines In One SoAPatOHK Prick, viz.. Twenty-
five Cents, the best skin and complexion soap, the best
toilet and best baby soap In the world.

80*4 tbrongbont the workl. Pottbb Dbu9 and Cukk.
OoBP., Sole Props., Booton. «* All about the Skin," free.

SKIN HUMORS

InatMiUy relieved and ■peedily cured by Cvxp-
coaA KSMBOiKS, Tbs Sbt, $1:95,

.. Your

can be cuiargcd 1 Inch and strengthened 60 ^/ci cciii :ii on©
month by using the Hercules Graduated Oymnaatic
Club and Stren|(th Tester 5 minutes each dav. It will
develop and strengthen the arms, chest, back and waist in
less than one-half the time required by any other apparatus
known. The busiest man can become strong and healthy by
its use. Write for deneriptive pamphlet ami jtrice-lisi to
HERCULES, BOX 3550 A BOSTON, MA88.

OPENS THE PORES

Tins is the secret of the wonderful curative power of the Buckeve Folding
Bath Cabinet. All the beneficial effects of Turkish, Vapor and Medicated
Baths may be had at home at a trifling cost. Properly taken, every pore is
• pcned and the medicated vapors are naturally abi«irbed, strengthening thr
. ntire body. The Buckeye Bath Cabinet is manufacturrd at our ow
f.ictory under personal sui>ervision. The cabinet is supplied with a
door and an opening for the arm, convenient for bat hers in remo/-
ins,^ perspiration from the face or otherwise adding to their comfort.
It is absolutely germ proof and needs no care and is light and simple
in construction. We sell on approval to be returned at our expense if
n<>t salisfactt»ry. F*rice $5.00, including Alcohol Safety Stove and
Rrclpes for all kinds of medicated baths. LADIES should have our
Coin pie X Ion Steamer, used in conjunction with the Cabinet. The
only sure method of drawing away all impurities, leaving the skin
clear and soft as velvet. Price $i.<x> extra. AGENTS and SALESMEN. We wan: agents and
sjilcsmen to rco'-esent us in every flection and we offer monev making terms to active men and
women. FREE. — Uescrtptivc Booklet and tevtimoniats to all who write.

Address MOLLENKOPP & McCREERY, 910 Dorr Street. Toledo, Ohio.

KK VT»V FOR

rsK.

^r-P^

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MeCLUBE'8 MAQAZINS,

COUCH
SYRUR

WAKEFIELD'S
COUGH SYRUP

PROMPTLY AND EFFECTUALLY

CURES -•

Coughs, Colds,
Croup, Measles,
Bronchitis,
Asthma,

Whooping Cough,
La Grippe

And all THROAT AND
LUNG TROUBLES

WAKKFIEI.D*S COUGh 8YKVP is for uxU by all Leading Druai^t
Price 25 Cento and 50 Cento.

1/ not on sale by your druggist ^ it will be sent^ prepeiid^ on recetj^t oy^rice.

WAKEFIELD'S GOLDEN OINTMENT

has no equal as a cure for 8ore Tbront, Catnrrh^ Cold in Head, Qalnsy, and EryatMlas. For years it txA
bad an unequalled record m healing Old Soves, Bums, Cuto, Bolls, Felons, Chappea Hands, and al) iikin
Diseases. It has made tbonxifirh cures ol Piles and Corns.

WAKEFIELD'S GOLDEN OINTMENT is put «/ in a neat Jar, and will be
• 1.00. A sample bottle will be sent, prepaid, /or

►««i"]sH=l

G'ouaHs^GoLD s,

WHOOPING COUG H ,

riSST STAGES OF *» I

C ONSLJN/IPTIOISI

TYPHOID FEVER

MANUFACTURED ONLY BY _

ac.WAK£riELD& B^

_r^BL0OMINGT0NjLL^-c^
price: s5 cent:

TEADB MAKE AHD LABCL

sent, prepaid, to any address, cm receipt ff
25 cento.

WAKEFIELD'S BLACKBERRY BALSAM

is a positive cure for Cholera Morbus, Diarrhosa, Dysentery, Cliolera Infantum, and all forms of Manam^r
Complaint. Excellent for Children Teethinir. Pleasant to the Taste. Hi|(hly recommended by Physicians, Profes>
sional Norses, and First-class Dniggrists for more uan half a century.

1/ not on sale by your druggist, a full-size bottle will be sent, prepaid, on receipt of 35 Cents.

WAKEFIELD'S LIVER PILLS

do not ffripe, but act promptly on the Liver, Kidneys, Stomach, and Bowels. Invaluable for CostlTeness, •laandlcc.
Sick Headache, Indig^estion, and Biliousness.

1/ not for sale by your druggist, send J85 Cento for a box^ prepaid. State whether large or small stMod pill is pre/e^rtd,

WAKEFIELD'S REMEDIES have been endorsed by thousands. In whose families they have been USED FOit
MORE THAN HALF A CENTURY, and are maanfactttrcd only by

Dr. C. WAKEFIELD & CO., ^I^S.'^ Bloomingrton, III.

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MeCLUBEPS MAGAZINE.

COLUMBUS,

The HARTMAN SANITARIUM, ""iS

A MODERN INSTITUTION for the treat-
ment of chronic diseases, scientifically
equipped and methodically conducted.

Every room in the building absolutely
aseptic.

Decorations, furniture, fixtures, new.

Each bed-room furnished with finest bed.
Ideal spiral springs and the best quality of
curled hair mattresses, made in the institu-
tion, under our own supervision.

No odors, the purest of air.

The floors of the entire Sanitarium are
polished quartered oak, strewn with rugs,
rendering them perfectly noiseless.

Incandescent electric lights, electric call-
bells, hydraulic elevators.

The finest bath-rooms, fitted up according
to latest methods. Baths of every descrip-
tion, including the Electric, or ** Radiant
Heat Baths," (Kellogg's); with every facil-
ity for accurately ascertaining the pressure
used, ranging from ten to thirty-five pounds,
by the gauge; the temperature applied by
the thermometer, and duration by a proper
clock, with trained attendants.

Electricity, faradic, galvanic and static.

Our static machine is one of the largest and
most modern manufactured.

Massage, manual, Swedish and mechanical.

Calisthenics, therapeutic gymnastics, and
trained nurses.

The institution is also provided with solar
arcade, for rest cure.

Diet, scientifically regulated.

Mineral drinking water, absolutely pure,
from a flowing well 187 feet deep.

Ventilation and heating the most modern
throughout the buildings.

A corps of experienced physicians and
nurses in attendance.

Just one word to the reader. You may
have some chronic ailment for which you
have failed to find a cure. No matter what
your ailment is, write to us. We will treat
your letter as strictly confidential, and if
your ailment is one we are fully equipped to
treat, we will send you full particulars. If
not, we will frankly tell you so and return
your letter. All communications should be
addressed to •

D. R. SuMMV, M. D., Supt.,
Columbus, Ohio.

Please mention McClure's when you write to advertisers.
39

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MeGLURB'S HAQAZmS.

TITB

K^eley

ure

Alcoholt

Opium.

Tobacco

Produce each a disease
havine definite pathol-
ogy. The disease yields
easily to the Double
Chloride of Gold Treat-
ment as administered at
the following Keele>-
Institutes.

Addr«M THI KMBLBT
USTinm aA tllkw

Hot Sprincrs. Ark.
San Francisco. Cal..

1170 Market St.
West Haven. Conn.
Washinirton. D. C.

2x1 North Capitol St.

Pwitfkt
Marion,

;kt. 111.
InU..

1003. South Adams St.
Crab Orchard. Ky.
Nev Orleans. La..

x6ae-3B FclicitT St.
Portland. Me..

tji Congress St.

Inebricty-A Disease

Inebriety^ Morphine, and other Drug habits are depeadcttL opoa a
diseased condition of the nervous system.

rtie victim of the disease again and again puts forth the most hero c
efforts to reform, but his disease is too absolutely overpowering to be cxmt-
quered by resolutioos. The will power he would exercise if he oooJd is ou
lon^l^ supreme. Alcoholic stimulants have so coageaicd the Hebcagg
nerve cells that they camiot respond to the performance of their f uoctkMMi
duties, and the helplessness of the victim's condition is as inexplicable to
himself as it seems inexcusable tu his friends.

The Kceler treatment cures this disease by restoring the nerrea to a
perfectly healthy state. It cures by rewovlng Um ewe '1 be
result is that the patient is left in a normal and healthy cuodition, and he
has neither craving, desire, nor necessity for stimulants.

Over 300,000 men and women to-day have been permanently cured af
the disease of inebriety through Dr. Xeelcy's treatment, which is admto-
istered only at institutions authorized by him.

The treatment at these institutioos is pleasant ; no rcslraini is im-
posed ; it is like taking a four weeks* vacation ; the patient only knows he
IS cured.

Detailed InfonnAUofi of tbU treatncnt And proofi •! lU ■■«■!■
scot free upon applicatloa to any of tho lollowliic IsstltJrtkMW :

White Plains. N.V. Philadelpitia. Pa., I Ptorlrteace. k. I.

(;reensbon>. \. C. 812 North Browi St. Kirh— «1. Va.^

Columbua. Ohhs Pittsburir. Pa.. n>i3 E. MankaU SL

90 N. Fourth St. 4246 Fifth Ave. ] Wa«kcsha. Wis.

Lexini^on. Mass.
MinncapoliA. .Minn..
Cor. tetb St. * Park Av
St. I^ais. Mo..

aftij lAicustSt.
North Conway. N. H.
Butfaln. N. v..

3c8 Niat^ara St.

4346 Fifth Ave.
A4i!rraa Ik* laaiala wt**A yMk
N ••.Heredity af laehrlcty,'* h]

DITMAN'8 8EA-8ALT

Tb* Naloral Salt •! Par* b*a Water
TONIO, 8TRENOTHKNINC, INVIOORATINO

Uiad for Qnarter Ccntar j

AMrm DItmafif t Barclay Street^ N«w York

Looomeior AUxte oea-
qnared at last. Dooioni
pa salad. Spaoiallsis

PARALYSIS. „.„ .^

amasad at reooTsirof patlanta ihonght Inoufabla, hr
DH. CHAHB»8 BLOOD AN D NBUVK FOOD.
IVrito me aboai roor oaM. Adrtca •■d.lKSf ®« ««>»?
flCL It. oust. 284 N.lOth St.* PttllAOElNIU, fk.

Oh! So Fat!

and 81.50c

Philadelphia, Pa.

The specific OBB8ITINK re-
duces fat even after repeated fail-
ures with so-called other cures.
Respiration improved at once; xafe;
noaietine; no purge. 7*1 cnila
GOODRICH & C'O., Depc K, 935 Arch Street,
Samples and Circniars FREE.

DIABETES MB UDHEY TROUBLE CUE

I will f^uarantce to cvrc Diabetes. N» Cmrt, No J^. Would tiaaak mm ta
advance for names and P.O. Addres&cs of persons that are aflkteti •«* Dia^
betes, also with Bri^ht's Disease and wlOi other Kidney Troubles. Wrte
for terms. State aire, and how lonir you have been aflUcted. A4kiraH
R. POKTEH, P. O. Boa »T8, Otfw, I^wm.

ECZEMA

ftchlng Plica. 5of« Eyelid

Tetter, 5alt RImmsi, .^.
Itch. 5caid Head, RlRB W<

_^ awa ^^a ■i.v-n. ^^^mma ■■«■••, ■^■■■k tv wav.

Itching Plica. 5of« Eyelids. Facial Blemishes, and all Skiu
Dtae.is«rs promptly cured bv 5peflcer*S Olatflieat. Sent to aay
address, on rr« ript of as CcntS. A. O. PILSON, Pharmacist.
ija? W. BaHlawra Stoaet. Baltimore, M4.

PRKyEMT» D. Tbat iDdr-
scriliabic iaiscr>- aa<f discoarfort t*>
which many persons are sttt][^cct oa
Te«a«la,CaPi *«»--^- -

SEASICKNESS

absolutely prevented by wearinur the Aatl-Naaara Btoaiaeh Alilal^. It
never fails to s\\e satisCfiction and works equally well 00 land «• 1

Mailed. prciMiin. on rt-reint of fS.OO. Further information oa appHc

AMTl-NAUBKA PAi> CO.. Ilaa 14?.B, €11^1—0. O.

MORPHINE Habit

NMrasthaaia CUBCB al Hmw (DO

Pain) with DKNARCO. teanpla

andbookftee. ThoComfteck R>mtdyCo..B€»t.liJ,aFi|i>B,lii

OPIUM

■ra

and w« will show vmi
>owlsank«|ia^
. abMlolely s«i«. ««

furnish tha work and Icacb yoa fraa; yoa waek ia
Iha loeallty where jrvn live. Bend ns yoar wtdran and w« wllT
•splaiB tha buainMS fally ; ranerober wa gaarantta a clear pc»
fli af i> for rvary day's wock. abaotataly snia, write at aaaa.

ioiAL BAMcrACTCBUfl Ok, Btt 69, »mofi;na»

Hair LikeThis •

iA#P \A/II I MAII PRPF on application, to atiy address, full information how to jrrow
W C W 1 1.1. ITI At I L r n C t hair upon ibc baldest head, Sitop hair falling, c^e weak eye-
brows and eyelashes, scanty parti n^j. scurf, dandruff . itching scalp, and restore ^rray and faded hair
to its natural color, after all other remedies have failed. Enclose i-ccnt sump for scaled package

'''"- G. lORRIMER & CO , 334 N. Howard St.. Baltimore, Md.

Ixnfil ereT^knoirn^rfoAmtrftand dtvice Yr*i»Ko*At
Vitl>^ FinaUs I cured niynU by Qalrttnic LUdricitj •
]^ uouare Afc^ OT5fonii\9 4to^ OTWavtKfai-noi$f%
AonV was\t X\xr\^ and montj as I did. Wri\f mc an4

Pleaae mention McClare"* when yoa write to advertisen.

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lfc€Irir]UB*S MACLAZINM,

mim

^CURESAILMEHTSPtCUlURTD WOMEN
TRIAL FREE-

We received letters from 10,714 women who
bought our Brace during the year 1899. Of
these 10428 found in it the reUef they sought.
Only 286 were disappointed; they were proba-
bly chronic incurables or parties'who failed to
use the Brace properly. These facts tell their
own story with sledge hammer force. No other
remedial agent has such a record for success.
A majority of those relieved by the Brace in
189Q were women who had long considered
perpetual sufiFering as their legacy; but they
found in this simple, easy device a cure.

It bri DATS r^>;t, 9 trpu^rth, comfort, ability to eojoy
1 if t% grace nnd freedom for all exercise. A priceless
boon tt» the ff'f^bl© woman ; a benefit to all women.

Worn with any dress, with or withont cor^nt,
wholly external, adjo<^table to any fl^irp. Invaluable
to the prospective motlier. We receive aunually many
tbousaad>» of letters like this :

HAZEN, PA., Sept. 16, 18QQ.
1 had sufft-rrd three years from bai'kach<'» he.idache,
brarin^ down piiins, pain arnund the heart, constipation,
sleeplessness and exireme nrrvousne-ss. I atn now com-
pletely cured, and the Brace did it. I gained i^ pound* in
six weeks. I have not taken a drop of med trine since I
bejiantowear i lie Brace. MRS. J. M. RAUOriT.

Write for onr free trial offer, prices aind illustrated
book, all nailed free, in plain, Bt^aled envelope. Addre.ss
TKE NATURAL BODY BRACE CO.. • Box 13«, ^JiUaa, ICajnaa.

SIMPLE IN C0N8TRUCTiON-COC:ilFOflTAee.E-ADJU8TABLe TO ANY FICUIIE.

CHILDREN TEETHINQ.

Mbs. WiKSLow'a SooTHnrc Stvuf bn been used for over FIFTY
YEARS ty MILLIONS of MOTHERS for thdr CHILDREN
WHILE TEETHING, with PERFECT SUCCESS. It
SOOTHES the CHILD, SOFTENS the GUMS, ALLAYS
aU PAIN ; CURES WIND COUC. and is the best remedy for
DIARRHOEA. Sold by Dnnn^Mts ia crery ^art of tbe world.
Be aarc and aak for '* Mrs. Winslow^s Soothing Syrup,** aad
take no other kind. Twenty-five cents a bottle;

ARE YOU ASHAMED OF YOUR FACE?

By reason of the unprecedented demand
mauc u|x>n us we have at last coocluded
to put out a

S DATS' TRIAL
TBEATMERT FREE

to all who will send ten cents to cover cost
of postaiEe» wrapptnfy roailinK, ct«. This
grand offer will stand for a short time only
and is made solely that you may become
qnickly acquainted with a real blessing.

FACB REMEDIES for tM>th sexes*

Will most positively remove and permanently cure all
Pimples, blackheads, Freckles, Red, Rough. Sallow or Oily
Skin. Make the Skin Soft, Fair, Smooth and Clear. Re
storing the most faded complexion to tbe natural vigor and
brilliancy of )uuth so dear to all.

FULL SET, '^'"'■^^VR'SfTS'E^."*** $!.»».

Mailed to any address, upon receipt of price.

OoWwm Clieailcal C«n 126 N. Ckarlcs Sl^ BsRlMrc, ilM.

Please mcntioa McClure's when yoa write to advertiserSk
41

He Used

Mrs. Graham's

Cactico Hair Grower

TO R»AiiK mn HAm grow, amo

Quick Hair Restorer

TO nCSTOPIK THK COLOR.

Both srnaranteed harmless as water. Sold by baat Drug-
•iala or sent in plain scaled wrapper by express, prepaid.
Prio#, ftl.OO aaeh.

Send Ibr FREE BOOK: ''A ConfldMitial Chat with
Bald Headed, Thin Haired and Gray Haired Men aad
Wo«nM».^* Geed Agetita wanted.

MRS. GERVAI8E CflAHAM

t262 RRICHflQAN AVC. CHICAOa

MeKRM««f Jr ROBBllffI, Hew Yvrfc. Eaatent Areata.

Sold In New York by Walter i«. Karkej, Broadway wd 4mI St.,
8th Ave. and 35th St.. Broadway and 65th St.. 9th Ave. .unl 4ad St.

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MeC LURK'S MAGAZINE.

OUR NEW
1002 8TVLE

38,478 Sold Last Month-Everybody Buys
SQUARE QUAKER "^'SUS-.IS^'^ BATH CABIRET

3iat«r«*sH«alU PrcMrver. AWolwte
Home If eecMlty. Pr^lmmgntJU^. 8«vt*a
Mc41el«e mi4 Dr. BUI*. Every Mhh,
IV omaa m4 Cklld akoald mm» It « *ek 1 : .

So confident mc we our Cabinet will please you

to kc rrtamed at oar ez»ca«e Mitl > our
reftoa4c4 If mot Jant ■« repre

Wf Sand It M 30 Days' Trial

lokcrc' - — '

ncatea.

E^Soy TarkUk, RaMlaa, 0«lphu
Bathn *t Hmhc ^. EMvh. Water hath^

inwardly an4 outwardly, purifies the bliKKl, n...^ • . .. -

t.OOO.OOO pores of the skin, thus enabllO[i; nature in her own way to eipeJ by-^of

Impure salts, acids and poisonous mat r > • :i- -^.-.

deBiIig^a^d^luggshj,«j^ C8ER» »« •?,#•• PHY81CIA3.8 EXMRSE IT.

?(«t Mly a PreTealiT«» bat * PmIUt* Care . haT •BDIIiett AT

oriMMAM. I»aic4totareUercaaraat««4la J| HQT SrilMaS JIT

^•»UclliPT10X.-lt'rn« a aSpTfemsy^^ a genuine article ba-«lsan^y^
lasts to years. Has real swinging dooc, heary steel frame, top curtains, ruober lined, latest i
Folds fiat in Ijnch space. Anyone can operate ^_^Espccially fo« liamUy use, no

PR01>l'CE*» perfect hei»;iK,cIcaT ^-e

and beauty. Makes your ofcxrei ^tr ^

suuud. appetite good UI^PKI,'*' s.

skin diseases, eruptions, i'lfi:^ I N[T> &:-

case. Small- Pox. Hydroph.; aer. eu.

i'lKEH Khciimatis.m. N C«Bt

Bronchilii. Indi>{estiiin. i^at-j r- ■ ' a, H^a.^

ache, Female complAiiits, Bczc:i^--.

Blood. Skin. Nerve, Kidney ur-ubir

r. Hot AIp, I'erftoaied «r Medl«^t»'d

cleanse the surface only. Our C^h' ■■' f

inviiEorates and t<>nes up entire systr

ire in her own way to eipel b>-prof'

whicji. if retained, pc-ison the 5>'stei ,

Face

dMJ

o:rwHt«

** BMk am Batlia.<

Te.ii-SL'ffl'i'SJl: i^KBiB I BirtiCabin<£i in the world.
Address Tho 8oln Manufacturers. Tit K \^ OKMI >rK'<;

Kefftea4 ymr i
I A6E3«'1 8 WAS TEH-MEM AHO W»MEX

<'0.. 1ttH« World BuililliiK, rin.li.t.»il. H^T

^ DID VOU EVER

ENJOY
A MEAL

ENNEN'S

•^C. BORATEO
O TALCUM

IN BED?!

"Soi unlrss the mt'iilj
waa served updii atable j
fio arranged as to extend «

over the bed, and BtlH oo
touch it. Most ooDTenient in
the iick room. Excellent
sewing, cuttinic and reading
table. Various kinds Of wood.
Beautifully flnish^^d.
Write foreiroulars
NO AGENTS, and ttstinioniaU.
Sii« of T»p. 18 X 36 laches.
5 INVALIDS TABLE COMPANf^ „^

Warned — a case
of bad health that
RIP A N S will
not benefit. One
gives relief. No
matter what's the
matter, one will do you good. A cuie may result if directions
are followed. They banish pain, induce sleep, prolong life.
Sdld at all drug stores, ten for five cents. He sure to get the
con u inc. Don't be fooled by substitutes. Ten samples and a
thousand testimonials to any address for five cents, forwarded
to the Ripans Chemical Co., No. lo Spruce Street, New York.

XPILET

A Po$itite Beh-ffi^r
PlirrKLl' HK.%T,
rHAFI!l>«S. MMi

'afnictlonsof the

iGet Mpnnen'i, the orlfln*! ,

BkmpUfHw. OBRHAfcP MeWyEH CO. . S»w*m

T CnVRANTEE TO Tl KE IIIAUETKJ*,

I NO i'AY r. O. Box 7S$. R. ruKlKR, OiTUX

NO ^Vkt

KWAm

WHEEL CHAIRS Xr

INVALIDS* GOODS,

RECLINING CHAIRS.
Comfort for All.
Catalogue Free.

I Stevens CMir Co.

«0t SIXTH ST., rlTTSBL'RC, PA-

^1^

p^ J. a^ ^^ 1^ |~JK A SCIENTIFIC MARVEL. ■■ J» | Q FROM THE FACE,

PADUINA Instantly Removes MAIK neck and arms,

The Pailona Company, Dept. C, Cincinnati. Ohio.

CAinPBEI.I.«8 SAPB AKSBNIC COM'
FLEXION WAFERS, .POVI.p>S AHSBBIir

In Hul
$1.0<."
PADONA *,

UP.
, AIX-S.

BEAUTY IS POWER

O I JilNKHS. and all other facial and bodily blemishes.

remedies on earth can,
Address all orders to "

niTT.n'H ARAKN ATjINE CREA Wf are the most wonderful preparations in the world for tbeoorapUauD.
MPi'kH. freckles, BI.ACKHKADf^, MOTH, hA l/l.OWNKJ*S, TAN^KI»SKf*S

al^ShCT&chf^ndb«^ilH^S.^^^^^ "P^ *»«*"**'y **** oomploJoo as ao other

n. Wafers, per box, 50c. and fi; 6 larg* boxes, $k; Soap, sk: A i^enahne Cream, «^^ icvKM V W ¥1 KRK
H B. FOULD, Dept.^S^, «4 6th Ave., New York. f*Ohi> BY lIKHOiilHTP BYBKY^HKBK.

People used to say to the dealer : "Iwani a tooth brush." Now most cleanly persons say : "I
1 Prophylactic Tooth Bmsli.** Look at the brush and see how simple and common-sensible it b.

Sold Only in a Yellow Box — for your protection. Curved handle and lace to fit the immti.
Bristle in irrcf^ular tufts — dsaas batwasa tha taath. Hole in handle and honk to hold it. This BK.-aAs
much to cleanly persons — the only ones who like our brush. Adults' 35c. Youths' asc. Childfea's S5C
By mail or at dealers'. Send for our free booklet " Tooth Truths."

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McCLURE'S MAOAZINE.

FREE TO THE RUPTURED

Dr.W. S. Rice, the Well Known Anthority, Sends
a Trial of His Famous Metliod Free To All.

There are people who have been torturing themselves for years
with trusses. It is hoped their attention will be drawn to Dr.
Kicc^s free offer. An elderly and retired physician. Dr. S. Ball of

DR. S. BALI..
Marion, Ala., is one of the hundreds attracted to this generous
announcement and as a result he is now completely cured of a
bad rupture which was very hard to hold. Although 73 years of
age he had the courage ;uk1 determiiuitioo to try this new and
novel method and now he lives in peace, contentment and security.
Dr. Ball looks back to the old days of crude methods and in com-
parison hails the wonderful method of Dr. Rice as a marvelous
Godsend to the present generations. By all means write at once
to Dr. W. S. Rice, 303 S. NIain Street, Adams, N. Y., and he will
send you a free trial of his remarkable home cure for rupture.
There is no pain, danger, operation or an hour's loss of time, and
by starting now you will be sound and well in a short time.

ALCOHOLISM

IS A CURABLE DISEASE

The Bartlett Cure is taken at home,
without publicity or detention from
business, saving time and expense.
There are no hypodermic injections
used. The treatment is self-admin-
istered, under constant instruction by
mail from E>r. Bartlett, applying to
each, individual case. The craving
for drink is permanently removed,
and the general health benefited by
removing the diseased conditions
which cause the desire for stimulants.

Im 8. Collin, Pre». of the Railroad Temperance
Association of America, says : ** Dr. Bartlett** work
Is almost miracnlons.**

Dr. Bartlett Itas Just pnhllslted a new edition of
his book on ** Alcoholism, lt« Causes, ElIlBCts and
Cure,'* which will be mailed free wn application.

THE BARTLETT CURE CO. ;

D. C. BARTLETT. M.I>.
Suite 15, 155 WasblBKton St., CHICAQO.
iiaa O. Broadway, NEW YORK.

BLINDNESS

PREVENTED AND CURED

tliv fui*e unil
tu clruiiMc* llii
liiitnun aktit.
rii«-> i*U'Hr thr
(-(iiiiplcxioii Mild
ki-cp thi' mkln > OH lie
fremh noil healtlijr.

All inf^redients used in their manufacture are carrfully selected
and combined by a practical DermatoluKi^t who has devoted the
best efforts of his life to treating and ciirinjf affections of the skin,
and if scientific attainment and lonip experience cotmt for any.
thins:, he ouKht to know what is best to cleanse, purify and
bfautify the human skin and keep it bright and healthy.

For full information or bixik. call or write the Doctor —

JOHN H. WOODBURY D. I.,

2% Wot 2Jd Stnel, New Yeric I2S TrtMirt StiMl, Bettea.

\m WalMt SifMl, Piiilaielpkii. 108 Cbcalcai BMg., SI. Levis.

l«l Slate Sinet, cer. Mearoe, Cklcage.

Please mention McClure's

BY THE OREAT EYE RESTORER
iiifftTIHlff A PERFECT ELCCTRIO

mw I InH pocket battery.

AOTINA is a marvel of the nineteenth centunr,
for by its use the Blind See, the Deaf Hear and
Catarrh is impossible. Actina is a certainty in the
cure of Cataracts, Pterygiums, Granulated Lids,
Glauconia,Amaurosis, Myopia. Presbyopia, Com-
mon Sore Byes or Weakened Vision from any
cause. There need not be a spectacle used on the
streets of the world, and rarely to read with.
Street glasses abandoned. Actins also cures
Deafness, Catarrh. Asthma, Bronchitis. La
Grippe. Colds, Weak Lunes, Neuralgia, Headache^
etc. Actina is not a snuffor lotion, but a Perfect
Electric Battery, usable at all times and in all
places by young or old. The one instrument will
cure a whole family of any of the above forms of
disease.

NO CUTTING. NO DRUGQINOl

NINETEEN YEARS OF SUCCESS.

A VALUABLE BOOK FREE. Prof. Wilson's
Dictionary of Disease sent on application.

NEW YORK & LONDON ELECTRIC ASS'N,

gg^^ D«Pt. B. pap Walnut 5C. Kansas City, JMo.
^B^^ Aqbnts Wantco. Writi worn Tunss.

when ywu write to advertisers.

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McCLURE'8 MAGAZINE.

J AS. GODFREY WILSON r/wSTM? srSe^YSm

RoUiag Partitions
for Schools and Churches.

Inside Outside Venetian _. «.. . , «..

Venetian Blinds. Blind and Awning. Venetian Bliuds for Pia

Also wire Window Screens, Steel Ceilings, Rolling Steel Shutters, etc. smd /^ Catalogue s-0,3

A WONDERFUL
LIGHT.

Costs for service one-fifth as mu< h as
electricity, one-thirteenth as iiuich as
acetyline, one-eleventh as much as gas,
yet a pleasanter, brighter light than any
of these. Fine print read 45 feet away.
Bums vaporized gasoline : 100 candk-
power twenty hours costs -^ cents. No
odor, noise or smoke. Never out of order.
I^su a lifetime. Ornamental; [lortablf.
Best for country or city, homr or ofTHc.
QiummUed as repreMntod or money
refunded. All styles. Write for cata-
logue. Agents wanted.

CANTON INCANOeSCEKT UOHT CO.,

Cherry and 7th Sirci ts.
Canton, Ohio.

CANTON

Incandescent
Gasoline
Lamps.

Don't imagine that

HARDWOOD FLOORS

are all alike. Quite the contrary.
Some never look well.- Some look
well at first, but soon give out be-
cause not honestly made. Others
look well at first and continue to
look well because they are honest-
ly made. We guarantee our floors
against all defects that may ever
arise from faulty material or work-
manship, and our guarantee is good.
We could not aflord to do this un-
less we did our work well. We
can satisfy you on this point. All
we ask is that the floors have
reasonable care. We furnish wax
and brushes for keeping floors in
order. We will tell you all about
these things if you will write us.
Catalogue free.

WOOD-MOSAIC CO.,Rochester,N.Y.

WORK SHOPS

Of wood and raeUl workers, without
power, equipped with

BARNES' FOOT POWER {^l.^
MACHINERY bTd^

on jol« and %\\^ irrcMtcr profit on the work.
Machines sent on trial if ticHired. Cataloifue free.

W. F. A JOHN BARNES CO.,
too Ruby Street, Rookford* III.

OOD or METAL
Workers

Wltboat BtMM Poww ahaald
«•• wa Foot mad Baad Pow«r
llMhiB«7. BMid flir CatalocMo
A— Wood<workiBC MaohJaary,

SGNKA FALLS MPCLCa
679 WMer St. ScMca Falls, N.V.

**A Home After Your Own Heart'

Do you want 10 know how a modern house should be
built containing; all the advantages of superior conslniction
and elejrancy of finish ? Our new books •• MODERN
HOMKS," show many different plans for all kinds of
houses: no two alike. Kach house has distinctive features
and |Hjrf#frt flcH)r plans. Views of exteriors, Idras of
<^\uui8ite iiitc^rior elTeeis and exact giiarantee<l ctist.
HF:\i> KOIl THEM. We prepare siiecial plans from
)our ^^^\\\ ideas for any kind of a building you may desire,
at any cost and have a large corps of experts at our diflTereni
offices s*) as to give complete architectural semce including;
superintendence in anv direition. We can please vou
Write for our books to-day. •• MODERN iiOM^H,**
one l)ook for $1.00; two for $1.50; three for $2.ool

Ceatwy ArcUtectiral Coaiiaiy

MidB Offlce: 807 AmoictB Tntt Bldf., CLXTSLAn>. 0.

Please mention Mc( lurr'» when ><Mi write to ad\-ertisef«.

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MeCLUBBPS MAGAZINE.

ii^:.::^

Bfttter7Hanginf(Lamp«,|10.00
Telephone, complete, • 6.ft^
Electric Door Belli, . , 1.00
Electric Carriage Light, 8 06
Ratterj Fan Motor, . . 6.95
Electric Hand Lanterns, 2.00
Pocket Flash Lij^hta, , 1.60
Miniature KlectncLampa, .40
18 Medical Batteries, . . 3.05
Gennine Electric Belts, . 1.00
112 Belt with Snapensorj, 3.50
Genoine Electric Inaolea, .2d
TeleprraphOotfita, . , . 2 25
Battery Motora from $1 to 12.00
Battery Tabia Lamps, . 8 00
NecktieLiffhta, 76ci8. to 8.C0
$6 Bicycle Electric Lights, 2.75
Electric Cap Lights, • . 1.75
Electric Uailway, . . , 2.9ft
Battery Student I/amp, . 4.00
DrT Batteries, perdozen, 2.25
All Electrical Books at low

f prices.
I ail 00 EvefTtbiot
eitctrlcml.

OHIO ELECTRIC WORKS

CLEVELAND. O.

HeadquarterB for EIfM;trlo Nov-
eltifm and 8npi>lieH.

Afcaata wanted. Bend for New
Oatalotnie ju»t out.

SHRUNKEN
FLOORS

^FiIUngGRack^

MADE QOOO AS NEW.

QRIPPIN'S
Wood, Crack mad Crevice Filler <

A non-ahrinkable. toofffa, elastic filler, that will not crack, and
"iaakeold f^- ' '^ - "^ — ' '

floors air-tight, watar and vermin proof.

Yon Con Apply It YoorteH, '
Booklet tollliiff all about It aoot frae.
OHppln*a Deck and Seam HUer FOR YACHTS.

GRIPPIN MFG. CO^ Newark, New York.

! tr--^ , m

',^ h^

NO TEARING rROM^
ROLLER

Ask your dealer to show you

i. HARTSHORN
SHADE ROLLER

\Mth thts Tt'Ut^r the fltiade cannoi tear, and it will nerer
pull off. If thf roller offered you liaa not the auto-
grai>b aloiuiture of Stewai t HArtshorn on label, be-
ware of it, it is not a Ilajrtaboru.

W€H9d RoUermm Tin RaUensm ^

^^f^^^^i^^^'^^^^^-m

THE LOST CHORD.

THE CALDWELL

SASH
BALANCE

10 Years Seeceaa has made It
the standard sabstitate for
weights and cords, for balanc*

ginff windc^w sash. Caa be a^
lied to old windows which
ave no weight pockets. Write
for catalog smd price list.

CALDWELL MFC. CO.,
1 1 Jon6>8t.y Roohot6r,tl«Y«

Sold by
Hardware Dealers.

NOBODY APPRECIATES WATER

more than those people who having sanitary appliances in their houses
find their water supply uncertain. If they had a

Rider:; Ericsson Hot Air Pumping Engine

certainty would take the place of uncertainty.
CmttUogae **Q" on appllcmtlon to nearest office.

RIDER-ERICSSON ENGINE CO.

aj Cortlandt Street. New York.
86 Lake St., Chicaso. J39 and J41 Franklin St., Boston.

40 N. 7th St., PhU. aaa, Pitt St., Sydney, N. S. W. 69J Craig St., Montreal, P. Q.

Please inriuion McCIurc'a when you write Co advertiaere.

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McCLURS'8 MAGAZINE.

The Housc'sDrcssmakcr

The dressmaker and the tailor know the styles
and how to apply them. The woman or man can
be becomingly dressed in a thousand different
combinations — all stylish. There is Uttle house
painting done that is "styUsh;" practically none
that is ' 'becoming. ' * We have placed on the market
for 1900 a line of entirely new and delicate tints
which work with our heavier colors into the most
beautiful and stylish combinations. We have also
created an "Art Department'* in charge of talented
artists and master painters who will without cost
to you guide you and your painter in the selection
of a combination of our tints which will "become**
your house and actually add to its cash value.

We make the following business proposition to
home owners who in 1900 will use

Haniniar Paint

We will give you an exclusive, stylish color plan
for your house FREE, (see paragraph below) fur-
nish Hammar Paint to you at $1.25 per gallon,
(when mixed) guarantee that its use will cost you
less than any other paint, lead and oil, or any
other materials, and put our |2oo,ooo cash capital
behind a guarantee that it will last five years —
keep your money in trust to return to you if our
claims are not proven. A glance at Dun or Brad-
street will show you whether we can do what we
say or not. There is too much nonsense thrown
about the paint business, and we are going to
explode some of it.

Write full information about the house you mean
to paint— size, location, style of architecture, prox-
imity to other houses and folia^^e— on a hill or the
level— (send photo, if possible), and we will send
you a number of beautifully colored reproductions
of bouses painted with our new line of stylish
tints and a copy of our guarantee. We will also
inclose blanks for further Information, on the receipt
of which we will suggest an exclusive color plan
for your house FREE OP CHARQE.

F. HAMMAR PAINT COMPANY

IMI Spruce Street. ST. LOUIS. MO.

The secret of a beautiful floor lies in its
finish ::: Progressive housekeepers eveiy-
where use Johns(»n's PREPARED Wax,
Ixcause ::: II enhances the natural beauty
of the ^vood ::: It is durable, economical
and easily applied ::: It does not show
scratches or het?l marks ::: Is not slipper^',
and Liisily kt^pt in beautiful condition zzz
Worn spots may be retinished without
rt_fiiiishin)jj the entire floor::: Our booklet,
"The Proi)er Treatment for Floors," con-
tains, in condrnsed form, all we have
learned during seventeen years of floor
experience ::: Ask for it :::::::::;::::;::

A5AMPLEHALrP0UND[AN

Suffiririit to

finish 150 square feet of
n ^iirfaie, to anyone who has a
n ;;: ' >ur < atalogue of Hardwood
MHs allows many beautiful designs
i* h r<wr c.irpenter can lay over )'t>«r
ir- at alxMit the cost of a good
p. t ::; free too :;: Use Johnson's
WDi RKi) Wax for dancing floors : : :

S. C. JOHNSON

RACINE, WIS, U. S. A.

Plrase mention McClure's when you write to advertisers.
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M6CL URE*a MAGAZINE.

tENGTH 4-'/2 INCHCS

Can actually be pat to the following uses :

■• Screw -Driver.
a. Tracing Pattern Wheel,
3. Scissors.
4* Ci^ar -Cutter.
K, Qiass -Cutter.
o. Hammer.
Wire-cutter.

o. Erasinjir- Knife.

10. Stereoscope.

11. Qiass-Breaker.
la. Ruler.

13. Cartridge-Extractor.
Bottonnol^Sclsflors.
Qas-PIpe Tongs.
Nall-Pne.
Clgar^Box Opener.
Measure.

•4.

Penknife. lo<

EVERY SCiSSOtf (HJARANTEBD AS RBPRB-
SBtfTBD, OR MONEY CHEERFULLY REFUNDED.

A USEFUL ARTICLE.

On receipt of caah or postal order for OSTK I>OU«AB
will send you one post-paid. Agents wanted. Send for cir-
culars of our other sellers. For sale bf all fint-dass Sution-
ery, Fancy Goods, Drusr, Dry Goods and Cutlery stores.

Tie Uiiteisal Seissei, Tool aid NoiEin Co.,

De|>t. L, <48 Broadway, New York City.

FREE Sample

OLD I

VAMEL I

» coulttlaf of two bottlio-eaMifli of ^

GOLD

ENAMI

(Washable)

OUR FAVORITE"

to gild a small frame, also a brush to apply it with, to any one men-
tioning this paper and enclosing a twoK:ent stamp for postage.

An brIlllMMt and vmovlk aa void leaf. Ready for mm.
A ehlld eaa apply lu Shovm ao brunh-markii. Caa be
washed witkoat taralnhlna. lillds cverytklast such as
chairs, frames. bric-.-i-brac. chandeliers, baskets, etc. Also made
in Alaailaam Silver. »

Sold by dealers (generally, ur we will send as-cent full size box. or
large size (three tiines the quantity), 60 ecaUs express prepaid.

QERSTENDORFER BROS.

4JB Park Place, New York City.

I Everybody has
I Something to Mend

I MENDS
lALL

GEM CHEMICAL CO.

Mends

Every tiling

hina, rIhbs.

tnnrble. hricua-

- ic.eto. Requires

iin bruHh. Color I eaa,

odorleH^: will Hland km

wmifr. Sample bottle

_i*ent pOHtpaid on receipt of

S r>c* \ irtr n tn wa n ted i n e vory

lociility, Good HgentH can make

biunioaey. Write a» a>>oai yoor

Baltimore, Md.

ABSORB NEW LIFE.

OXTDOHOR instills new life, teemins: with
health and vigor, gently and unconsciously, into your
sjrstem while you rest. You soon feel as a new per-
son. Literally, Oxydonor forces disease out of your
body and rejuvenates you. Oxydonor gives the re-

?[aii«d vital encrgv to all the organs, to perform the
unctions for which they wece ,made by Nature. No
dangerous drugs are used. No surgical operations are ,
required to see what is wrong, or to remove- any part. "
The healing and repair all take place naturally,
through extraordinary " vis medicatrtx naturae,'* in-
creased and intensified by Oxydonor, by maximum
functional activity of the system. Oxydonor bcfrets
the primary energy, and as when fuel is supplied in
food and drink. Nature does the rest. There is no
difficulty, no pain, no sensation, ho danger in using
Oxydonor, and any sane person can use it successfully.
Ruckle the disk at one end of its cord to one ankle, and
drop the vocor at the other end of its cord into cold
water, and the revitalizing process begins. Oxydonor
will last a life time, and ser\'e a whole family. The
purchase is the only cost. No periodical investment
IS required. Book of directions with each Oxydonor.

F£TER.
Mr. E. M. Bmltk, President Bank of Thomasville.
Thomasville. Ca., writes May a6, 1809 ; •• I tested Oxydonor
thoroaghly on mvself for fever, and also on my little t>oy, with
success. I woula not be without it for its weight in gom."
RH EU M ATIfiM
Mr. Jaaiea Bte#art, Jr., President Peekskill Hat Mig.
Co., Peckskiil, New York, writes Nov. 3. 1899: " Oxydonor as
a sleep inducer and for Rheumatism is of great value to me."
INFLAMMATORY RHEUMATISM.

Mr. A. F. ABBOTT, 4a Rank St., Watcrburv. Conn.,
rrites May 18, i8db: " My wife, aged 65, used Oxydonor two
years ago for Inflammatory Rheumatism (a severe case), and

was wonderlblly relieved. She has enjoyed remarkably good
he.ilth since."

VY8PEPf»IA.

Mr. H. 0. Ooldey, Proprietor Goldey Wilmington Com-
mercial College, writes March 7, 1900: " 1 am emphatic in my
belief that Oxydonor has permanently cured me of Dyspepsia
of five years standing."

Mr. O. W. BALLERT, Toledo, O., writes Nov. 16.
1890 : " Have used Oxydonor for a numl>er of years in various '
' emergencies with great success. Ha%'e not found a pain that
Oxydonor could not stop."

O AITTION.— Imitarions of Oxydonor are dangerous to use.
Refuse to accept them. Dr. H.Sanche is the Inventor and
Originator, and nas obtained final decision In Supreme Court^
in Washington. D. C, against imitators. Also on Oct. t6. 1899,
the United States Court granted us an injunction restraining
Agents from selling an imitation of Oxydonor.

We invite full investigation of our claims. Our lKv>k con-
taining Grateful Reports from users of Oxydonor sent free.

Dr. H. SANCHE & CO. Dept. A

61 FIFTH 8T., IIETROIT, MICH.
241 Fifth Ave., NEW YORK. 57 State St., CHKAQO, lU.

CANADA OFFICB:

««68 ST. CATHERINE ST., MONTREAL, QUIE.

Pleoao mentaoa McClure's when you write to adverttaers.
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MtCLmars magaxwe.

THE MONROE

Porcelain-Lined Refrigerators

Dainty — Cleanly — Healthful — Economical — Odorless

Anybody who wants a refrigerator would have a Monroe if he knew all about it.
And it is due to vourself that you know about it. You choose for a lifetime.
Better spend a half hour to learn w'lich is best. You will select the Monroe,
Every food compartment is lined with white porcelain, moulded into one piece, ivith
rounded comers. No crevices. No joints where food may lodge and decay. The
whiteness throws light into every comer, so that you may see any uncleanliness. The
glaze enables you to wipe it up with a cloth — anout all the cleaning ever necessary.

Common porcelain put to such uses would break, crack, craze or peel.
Monroe porcelain never does. It is the ideal lining — the lining that makes ours
the only refrigerators that are absolutely healthful and odorless.

The Monroe costs more than common refrigerators, but that cost is economy.
It isn't on account of the linings. The whole construction is so skillful, the insulation
so perfect, that the Monroe saves its cost over and over in the ice that the other
refrigerators waste. The cost gives you an honest refrigerator, cheaper by far than
the common kind, even were the common kind free; for tne main cost is the ice cost.

We save you all middlemen's profits by selling direct, freight prepaid. Dealers
must pay what you pay. We sell on approval, to be returned at our expense if not
satisfactory. Our new catalogue, with pictures in colors, shows how dainty they
are; write direct to us for it.

These refrigerators are always sold direct from factory to user. But for conven-
ience in showing we have exhibits in the following cities, for no one who sees a
MONROB will be content with the common kind:

CiMlBnaU.
Onluibm.
Dvtralt.
■■■— CUy.
LaahvUI*.

John Turnbull. Ir. & Co.. Furniture.

i8-ao W. BaftinKjre St.
il«B. Innes St Dcmarrst. Heaters. xa8 SUte St.

Hopkins Stove & Tinware Co., aoia Second Ave.
Abram French Co.. China, 8q Franklin St.
Wm. Scott, Florist. Cor. Main and Balcom Sts.
lacob Rettercr. Stoves, 169 Lake St., ad floor.
Koch & Braunsteln, China, as E. Fourth St.
The Hasbrook-Barvar Co., China. 87 N. Hii;h St.
L. B. Kint; & Co.. China. 103 Woodward Ave.
T. M . James & Sons. China, loao Walnut St.
W. H. McKnijfht. Sons & Co.. Carpets.

»5 Fourth Ave. and 338 Main St.
Slater. Price fi IX-inpsey Co.. Furniture,

137 Wisconsin St.
Phillips & Biittorff Mfg. Co.. Stoves, etc..

317 Collei^e St.

Xrw OrlMM.
Xvw KMkelte.
\9m York CUy.

Pklladclpkla.

PHtabnrt.
BIckBMd.

M. PiMl.

Svra****.
WanhlnfUa.

!• . Oflhcr. China, 90B Canal St.
Thos. J. ReiU & Son. te Mechanic St.
SielM-ccht Se Son. Florists. 409 FUtli Ave.
M. H. Bliss. China, 1410 Faraum S«.
Tyndale & Mitchell Co.. China.

1817 Chestnut St.
W. P. Greer. China. 514 Wood St.
The E. B. Taylor Co.. China.

loii E. Main St. and 9 E. Broad St.
R. B. Gray Chfaia Co.. 31a N. Broadwajr.
Wumutt. Howard & Co. Agents. China.

3853B7 Jackson St.
F. Mrt-catherly. China. 109 W. Fayette St.
Daudt Glass & Crockery Co.. tjfi Summit Sl-
Dulin & .Martin Co. (Inc.). China.

WIS »• S»- N. W.

♦
♦

♦

For Catalogue address MONROE REFRIGERATOR CO., Box J.Locklaad, Ohio.

A Mexican Investment

On Monthly Payment Plan. Hundreds of thousands
of dollars are being made yearly. Pays better than
Bank Stocks. Send for particulars and free book.

^^ ABSOLUTELY SAFE .^i^

MISSOURI COFFEE & RUBBER CO..

210-212 Laclede Building, ST. LOUIS. MO.

Bank reference 2 German Savings Institistkxi. Caphal* $250,000. Surplus; $500^000.

Please mention McClurr'a when you write to adv^»»«—~

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iteCLtTRSS'S MAOAZtSB.

Fan and Battery,

flexible wire, and chemicals for J^ ^ cq
sixty hours' continuous use — I ^ ^»
express charges prepaid for m. M m
Money Refunded If Unsatisfactory.

This is a very desirable outfit. Fan 8 inches in
diameter, has three blades, and brass guard. 1 1
is portable, and will bring comfort to the bed-
room, dining-room, office — in city or country.
Simple; effective; cannot get out of order.

Other sizes from *2 up. All the same quality. Dif-
ference only in size. Send for FREE catalogue of lans and
motors for all purposes — running sewing machines, etc.
Additional chemicals to nm at i cent pcrhour.
** Oddo " goods at dealers, or address Dept. D»

AMERICAN ODDITY CO., 170 West Broadway. New York.

1^^

TO INTRODUCE OUR

Golden Finish

Quarter Sawed Oak
Veneered Mantels

We are offering 200 of » special design,
at the remarlLal>le price of
^A^ 70 Bach, including best
9^«7b # V quality enameled tile
facing, and 60 x 20 hearth, firebrick and
brass* pUted i'lab House grate and
frame. ThL'Me Manteln are well made and
the rifheat grain effecta aro used in ev-
ery part. Sampio of wood, ahowing lum-
ber used, aud illustrated catalogoe free.
WE PAY THE F8EIGHT t« ail H""^»^/«f

the MisiUilppI HIvcr ami t><>rih of S. ( urotioa.

ALCOTT. ROSS & SCULLY CO.
2913 N. Broad St.« Philadelphia. Pa.

#■

A BATH FOR 2 CENTS

Is Furnished by the ^^^^

Victor Instantaneous ^W
Water Heater ^yw^ujji ■»iJJ^' x

tic room ; is ready for
use night or day; furn-
ishes hot water intianlly
for bathing, shavini:.
sickness and all domrs-
tic purposes when h"t
water is required. Usi s j
Gas or Gasoline^. .^im

for it, or tend f)r j^
fret catalogue. -^J^^ ^J

tlitM *" Lb

W.J.ADAM, ^O^^HMh '
JOLItT, ILL, ^^^^mj

It costs

no more to

apply painta that

wear five years than

it does to put on those

that last only two years.

Patton's Sun Proof Paints

are acttially less expensive

than the best while lead paints,

and they wear fully twice as

long.

Patten's Sun Proof Paints
arc all-wcathcr proof

They fonn a hard, glossy, last-
ing, weather-resisting surface.
The Sun Proof Pa iut book explains
the making of good paints, and
tells how to apply them. Shows
many color combinations. Write
for it. I.iberr.1 inducement and
cgency to dealers.

JAS. E. PATTON CO.,
415 Lake .St.,
Milwaukee,
Wis.

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juoLtntMrs MAOAzms.

Fine Floors

In Famous Houses

are finished with utmost care,
oiled or Tarnished, but ai

They are never
e waxed with

®lb iBnglidb
floor Max

because it is the best finish. Easy to apply, economical to

use. never marlced or marred, it jrives the lustrous polished

surface, considered the perfect finish for hardwood floors.

For Dsncloff Floors ujo B. B. Powdered Wax.

•• Waxed Floors," a booklet, tells how
to treat hardwood 0oork— FRBB."

The Barron, Boyle Co,, Dcpt, L, dnclnnati, U. S. A.

For It

\% Twm 4" ^^ The latest and best dcsifM ci
WV II I I ^ PIreptace Maotcle «r« b«oc

f f £ A \,\^ < from OrmuBeutol Brick k

Colonial, Elizabethan, Empec
Old Vienna, and other txria.
There is no other kind so ssit^e
and good. Ours are thmrmtag
— our cnetooMrs sAjr 00^ Itty
look the best— last the lomgesi-
are the moftt artistic and pleasing — are not too costly. Azy
capable brickmaaon can set them up froa o«r pUss.
Improve the decorative opportunities of the ^usner-
picce. It's money well spent. Our Sketch Book tells a.
about 59 designs of mantels costing from f (a
Write for it. Write to-dajr.

PEILA. ft B08T0V 7ACS BUCK CO^
F. 0. Box tSU,

Do Yoa Want a Pictoresqae Comfortable flome?

One built to suit your site, your needs and your taste f Then hare om make j«v fiB»
Yau win kc Mitlslcd 1 whether it is a Summer Cottage or yoar permaaeat kamc

My books show something of wliat I can do. Send for them.

Cottage.

Plctarenque Maaiaier Cottacea, containing Designs for Samaser Hoi . __^

Log Cabins, Club and Road Houses. The best bookof the kind erer pwhHahed, |i.
Pletareaqae lloaaca (New), Designs for houses from f3.soo to |as.aaow By maA.\
Pletareaqae Cotta«ea, 57 Designs for houses from $jao to $3,500. By amfl. 91 ca.
I make a specialty of planning for Private Parks. Special designs and aketckcs mate
order.

E. E. HOLM AX. Areklt^et, ItO Ckootaat St., FfcOadalpMa, Pa.

Was Ym House Warm Last Winter?

Send for Illustrated Book describing our FURMAN STEAM and HOT WATER

IJOILERS and system of Heating. We caa 8MVe from 25 to 33 per c&lL

of your Fuel, Your local steam fitter can easily erect the apparatus.

THE HERENDEEN MFG. CO., 00 LURE ST., GENEVA, N. Y.

Taste in Building

One's reputation for taste in building depends mostly on the
outside of the house — comparatively few people ever see the
^ inside. Beautiful houses are made more beautiful, common-
place houses are redeemed, and even ugly houses become
f attractive, when colored with the soft, harmonious tones of

Cabot's Creosote Shingle Stains

. r Stained Cedar samples in 24 colors, and color-chart of combi-
' **.- nations, sent free on request.

h'.%'^. Samuel Cabot, Sole Manufacturer,

t^Vl .^^.•:. «.-..-.» ^8 Kilby Street, Boston, Mass.

AGENTS ALL OVER THE COUNTRY.

H. H Waterman. Arch% ChJCtia

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MeCLUiarS MAGAZINE,

When a
Housewife

SEES THE TRADE-
MARK BELOW

On Enameled Ware it is
Safe to Bay ; not till then.

NO rOISON can lurk
in Agate Nickel Steel
Ware {sntj for pam-
phlet sAi>7t'ifii^ 7('hy),
but without this mark
there is no immunity
from danger. A re-
cent analysis made
of 17 different makes
showed in e \' e r )'
instance one of these
three poisons as a part
of their coating, viz.:

ARSENIC, LEAD AND
ANTIMONY.

Each Cooking Utensil (we
make 5000 different kinds) of
the ** U & G. Agate Nickel-
Steel Ware" has, besides this
Trade-Mark, burnt in the
enamel, a label attached
with Chemists' certificate
as a guaranty of

ABSOLUTE SAFETY

Pnniiihlft Free.

Lalance & Orosjean Mfg. Co., |

Kew York, Boston. Cliloago. ]:':

DEAL Steam Coekor

(JookH A wbolo mo>«l oT«r one bamer, oii^a«o-

/I'fir, ml, (/*!■% or fofuwutn eooA*(or«.

Rtduces fml Bills Ont-half.

Makes toiisli aeatai tepder. PreTmts

•teRm ftnd odors. Whlatle biowi wb«n cooker
need« moro wAter DlBBer 8ets« Bicycles*
Wutcheo. kii 1 u hrr Ysliisble Preailiimii elvea
•*lth order fur t'ookcm. Send for lIlaatraiM e»t«-
i...-,,*-. HV pay rj-pr^*,. AOENT8 WANTED.
I OLF:iu» < 0I» k F.R C20., Bex 79. Tolede. a

PLAYS

Dialoffaen. Speakeri. Amai

Book*. Catf' '

Pwblleher,

r, Bept. 48. CHICACMK

MAWC LANTERNS, $14 to $100
HOVINQ PICTURE MACHINES, $25 to $65

10.000 Slides for Educational Purpojjrs. 30,000 Slides for Church
ind Lecture Use. Our most profitable lecture sets are :— Forty-
Mt^ht slides illustratinf^ " In His Steps," sixty-two slides on the
Transvaal War. Also 100 Hymns and Songs including the " Holy
Jity'* beautifully illustrated.

Moving Films, $3.50, $3.00. $4.00. $5.50. Send for free bargain
»si, or J5C in stamps for ** Exhibitor's Manual."

WIUIAMS, BROWN & EARLE. D«pt. Q. Pbilwlelphia

Please mention McClure's v

Like a child when it comes to caring for
ice cream. Why not have it then, when-
ever you wish ?

Bought of a confectioner it is expensive
and not always convenient.

Made at home it costs only the material
and is no trouble at any time with a Peer-
less Iceland Freezer. The Peerless Iceland
Freezer has only

One Motion

the can revolves around the stationary
dasher. Few parts — little friction.

Runs easier and lasts longer than a
many-motioned freezer. Smooth delicious
ice cream in three minutes.

Dasher cleaned by simply dipping in hot
water. All gearing is enclosed. Costs no
more than a poor freezer and the saving of
time and ice makes the Peerless Iceland
the most economical ice cream freezer made.

A Four Quart Freezer p|»pp
and Peerless Ice Chipper ■ ■ '^^^

If not on sale In your town, write for infonna-
tion how to obtain the above nbaolut^lv free.
On request, we will send vou our booklet, "Ice
Cream Secretn." which tells the secret of mak-
ing fine ice cream, like the best confectioners'.

DANA & CO.. Depi S. Cincinnati. Ohio.

Who also make the "Tof *'— for 1 pint of cream.

-iien yuu write to advertisers.

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MeCLURE'S MAGAZINE.

H- i„..(Oli;Zin:«?i ms n

STEPHENSON k OREENE, ARCHITECTS. NEW YORK

THE BEST RESULTS ARE WHAT YOU WANT. USE

€nq,li&l^ ^l^ingle ^taiitjS

AND GET THE TRANSPARENT. ARTISTIC
EFFECT WHICH IS ENSURED BY THEIR
USE. SEND FOR SAMPLE BOARDS AND
COLOR PLATES TO

Dcyter Brotbere

55 & 57 DROAD STREET - - BOSTON

The followinR firms act as our Agents: H. M. Hooker Co.. 57 W. Rao-
dolph St.. Chicago, ill. ; W. S. Hueston. 45 Cliff Street. New York ; W. W.
Lawrence Sc Co.. PittslHirirh. Pa.; Smith A- Voune. San Francisco. Cal.; The
L. I. Mattison Co.. Cleveland. Ohio ; Henrv Sefm & Co., Baltimore. Md.;
c;enild Lomcr. Montreal. Can.; Curtis ^lt Bartiett Co.. Lincoln. Neb.; Porter (k
Viall. Rochester.N. v.; Samuel BetUe. Jr.. SM Walnut Strect.PbiUdclphU. Pa.

Jliiistic « iDonumems

COST NO MORE THAN
PLAIN ONES IN « « « «

mbite Bronze.

Marble is entirely
out of date. Gran-
ite soon gets moss-
grown, discolored,
requires constant ex-
panse and care, and
e V c-ntually crumbles back
to Mother Earth. Bc-
♦.tdci, it is very expen-

mbite Broixe

■ - :rictly everlasting. It
. lot crumble with the
on of frost. Mosa-
growth is an im-
possibility. It is
more artistic
than any stone.
Then why not
investigate it ? It
has been adopt-
ed for nearly one
hundred public
nonaroents, and by thousands of delighted customers in all parts
of the country. It has been on the market over twenty years and
is an established success. We have designs from $4.00 to $4,000.00.
Write at once for free designs and information. It puts you under
no obligations. We deal direct and deliver everywhere.

Vh inoNMiieMal Broixe €o.

JS4 Howard Aveaue, - - Bridgeport, Coon,

AN r>\y\ bAth tub t:an W eiveti a ^nlid, smooth enamel finish, which
will resist wear und Itut w^ier. and .it the &ATne time you can
enamel ,»ll the woo«lwurk of the t>a(h-room. either in pure white or any
fif the tints. Your dealer ought to have it. If he Itas not, write u%,
sen lioij his namr. We villi see that you get it. Address Drpt. D.

ACME WHITE LEAD AND COLOR WORKS, Detrell, Mkk.

(hiT K>iklet. *' FnamcU and Knancllnc" with s^inple^ of
rnl.vr-.. w^^nt frvv.

HOME SEEKERS, HOW WILL THIS DO?

THE LADIBS all udmlre this RceepUon Hall especially, and the inrli«l«
plan IS hard to «xcel« cost considered, which is now 93800 with hard woad
finish first floor. No healing. If interested send 9c atamp f"r the Aipired tto«r
plans and larger vlevr of this drKi^n. If jron have any Ideas of ynur own for
floor plans send them in and 1 will place them in praetlcal shape for you, giving
_ estimate coet and prices for full plans.

This is No. 26Q, Book No. za. Designs nemr and up to date,
y,— n J My 5 other Classilied Books are all full of gwod Ideas. Order

hiN.!* *^— - Boon as per price House you want,

yj KIT. Bonk No. « has ft« designs from fSftO to •!,&••

• -*« ■ •• •• IS *• tr (»^ nnr-story) 4A« " <••••

•IS •• ftO

1*t

Vlev«. plans, desrriptions. dimensions, estimates, whh modlftcatkms to
ll. Price, #1 each; any two. #1.50t any font, Mt say five. M,ftO|
liz. M* Booklet of ip sample de^itrns. "How to Start Rtgdt uid SavS
NBY." 2S cents (silver). Booklet and 55 other designs. 50 cents. AU postpaid.

h^f^s^^r^ D. S. HOPUNS, AkUM. 74Movoe St,Qraad RayUt. Mkk.

Pksse mentioQ McQtire's when you write to advertiaexs.

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MeOLXHUFS MAGAZINE.

The Olds GasolineEngine

The Modern
Home

EMBODIES light, comfort, health.
The same power which pumps
water to supply domestic and farm
uses, will inexpensively illuminate
the home with electricity and by a
simple adjustment also

Run the Sewing Machine

so helpful when run this way, so
harmful run by treading.

An Olds Does It—

Gas or
Gasoline.

OLDS' MOTOR WORKS

1308 Jefferson Av., Detroit, Mich.

; "Entirely of Tile"

Do you want the newest and best refrigerator,
made of porcelain outside and inside — doors with
tile, no chance to warp, no odor, always clean,
and will last a lifetime?

If so, send for {Inscriptive catal'.'gue to

THE WILKE MFG. CO., Anderson, Ind.

UCor. ajrd and St. Charles Sts. S

The improved Shingle Stain and preservative.
Imparts an artistic finish to shingles and prolongs
their life by penetrating the pores of the wood
and retarding decay.

Shingletint is made in all desirable sHades,
is easily applied, the colors are permanent, and
money is saved by Its use

Full information and finished sample of wood
mailed free for the asking.

BERRY BROTHERS, Limited,

Varnith Manufacturers,

DETROIT, MiCH.

New Yowc. ttt Penrl 8t. Chicaoo. 16 and 17 Lake St.

BosTOM. 680 Atlantic Are. Cincinnati. 304 Main Hi.

Philadklkhia. M a S8 N. Kuurth St. 8t. Lodis. Ill 8. Fourth St.
Baltuokb, n S. Lombard St. Ban FmaJicMoo. 117 A lit Markat St.

Please mention McClure's when you write to adverttwtm.

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McCLURE*a MAGAZINE.

Easy Cooking:

The kitchen is as pleasant as the parlor in the
home where a Detroit Jewel Gas Range reigns.
It makes cooking comfortable — makes it easier,
cleaner, better Uian is possible with any other
stove. Ask the hooaewile who has used a

Detroit

Jewel

GAS
RANGE

if she would be willing to go back to other-day
methods. Ask any woman who has learned the
economy of time, labor and fuel that comes with
cooking on this most modem of household helps
how much she values it.

Our booklet " Cooking by Gas" contains much
to interest those who wish to know more aboat
kitchen comfort and economy. Send for it — ^ii's
free if you mention McClure^t

DETROIT STOVE WORKS.
DETROIT, MICH. CHICAGO. ILL.

The above picture taken from life shows the
BERRY BROTHERS' TOY WAQON In use.

ASK YOUR DEALER IN PAINTS AND VARNISHES

ABOUT IT. OR DROP US A LINE AND WE

WILL MAIL YOU COPY OF ABOVE

PICTURE AND PARTICULARS.

New York, 25a Pearl St Chicago, 15 and 17 Lake St.

Boston, 520 Atlantic Ave. Cincinnati, 304 Main St.

Philadelphia,26& 28 N. Fourth St. St. Louis, iia S. Fourth St.
Baltimore, 2a £. Lombard St. San Francisco, 117 & 119 Market St.

BERRY BROTHERS, Limited

VamUh Manufacturers

»»»%»%%<»»»<^^x^***^

J, EONARD CLEANS i

DETROIT, MICH.

Please mention McClure*s when you write to advertisers.
54

t^^^i^

(Scientific and Elegant.)

A PERFECT FOOD PRESERVER.

Can be easily taken apart and cleaned thorou|^hlf with- 1
out back -breaking effort. They are cleaner, colder.^
dryer, than any other kind. The scientific constrocuoo.
arrangement of flues and eight walls for insulatioD a^
exclusive features which save the ice and produce t
lower temperature.

for this st^le. Stxe, 23^x7x40, others equally
as low. Freight prepaid east of the Rockitt
Privilege of returning if not satisfaaorr-
Souvenir free.

WRITE roR race aooa l that

TELLS ABOUT OUR OTHBa 8TTLC8.

GRAND RAPIDS REFRIGERATOR CO.,
12 to 30 Ottawa St., Qraad Rapids, JWidL

lower tempers

$8,251

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MeCLURETS MAGAZINE.

^ealmfr^^^amM

HOT

WATER

HEATERS

r STEAM
BOILERS
RADIATORS

\ X /E offer you the best, most economical and efficient line of heaters, from
' which to make your selections. We are specialists in our line and
devote all our time and energies to boiler making: as a result, we are able to
produce the best goods. We keep in mind the fact that a heater to be
satisfactory must save coal. The Qurney does this. It is also free
from dust, durable, and gives an even, agreeable, and healthful heat in all
parts of the house. Now is the season to install it,

/i>r sit/tr through the Stiatn and Hot Water Fitting Trade. Have your
architect specify the Gttmey and insist an your Jitter using the Gurney,
A void substitutes.

Write for handsome illustriitcd l>o<ik entitled, ** How B«st to Heat Our Home*.'*

QURNEY HEATER MANUFACTURING CO.

74 FRANKLIN STREET, Coraer Arch Street, BOSTON, MASS.

New York Off ica : 11 1 Fifth Avenue, corner 1 8th Street, New York City.

Western Selling Agents : lames B- Clow & Sons, 222-224 Lake Street. Chicago, HI.

Bicycle lAmpa, |3.
Student •• |7.
Carrlair« " I12pr.
Headllffhts, - $ia
LAoteniA, - - |3.5a

Absclutth)
Non-exptosive
and Odorless*

Our system of water control
cannot be surpassed. It's abso-
lutely automatic and generates a pure,
dry gas of great illuminating power.
Our blotting-paper conduits give an
even moisture throughout the entire
carbide charge, thus giving the light a
longer life than any other. Can t be
jarred or blown out. Can be relighted
repeatedly. All parts interchangeable.

Atk your dealer f or write to us/orpartieulan.

^4U

^ANGLLL^

THE LIGHT THAT NEVER FAILS"

pre heat and
lii;l»t p^r excellence f'f warm weather.

hlle as brilliant as pas or electricity jjivrs
<T thfv reason it Is tne livrlit p^r excellence i

ttiparativcly little heat has hrou^ht aU>ut its extended

1 I ; lion in many places where other systems would beunlwar-
i I'. Hundreds of suiiuikt homes are equipped with it to the .
exclusion of all other sysitem!^. It never smokes, *mells, gets j
out of order or makes a nui&ance of Itself, is lii;hted and
extln(;uished as easilv as gAs and wilt save its entire crist in a |
short time. Atxjut eighteen cents' worth of oil bums for one
month. Its great feature

•' NO.rNI>ER.8HAOOW "
insures all the light falling directly downward and outward
just where It is needed. Thousands arc in use In homes, stores,
offices, churches, factories, halls. Hhrarles, etc., and we have
hundreds upon hundreds of letters rnntaining highest praise.
Our catalogue D shows all sty les from $.i .ftj up. Sent on request

The Angle Lamp Co., 76 Park Place. New York City.

Bnms • boon.

BUNDY LAMP CO.. Box E, Dmira. N.Y. |

Please mention McClure's when you write to advertisers.
55

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MeCLURTS MAQAZDHB.

In the Year

'■^y^-J

ri^^

Articles of personal or domestic use *
'''were, perhaps, a trifle crude or homely in^
design, but they had one desirable feature,
they were exactly what thejr represent-
ed (it was before the era of imitations)
and were made for wear.

In the year ** 1847'* Rogers silver- \
'' plated Spoons, etc. (which have become
famous) were first made. The wearing
qualities at that time exhibited by this
brand are still a leading feature of the
original and genuine.

''1847

''Rogers Bros/'

Spoons, Forks, Knives, Etc.

If you "would have the good old wearing
quality combined with the beautiful design
and fine finish of modern times, it is only
necessary to see that each piece bears the
above trade mark. Remember" 1847" —
the year tl\is brand was first made — that is
your saf egk lard ,as there are other * Rogers. ' ^
Send for Catalos^ue No. 53 A.

It Bbows tbe progrefls In Spoon making ftom 1M7
^ to tue present time.

iNTKltNATIONAJL SiLVBK Co., SuCCCSSOT tO

IVERIDEN BRnAIfNIA C0.» Meridcn^Conii.

N«w York, Chicago. 8an FRAifcisco.
QoUL by leading deaUn everywhere.

THE FOSTER

DETACHABLE BUCKLE

Different from any other belt-buckle on
the market. NO SEWING or pins
are required in attaching it to belt.
You merely have to insert the bell-ends
through loops in the buckle, press the
loops together and the belt will be
secured. All of which you can do in a minute.

The Foster Buckle is made of durable metal
finished with pure gold, silver, oxidized silver, or black
enamel, and is guaranteed for one year. The new
pulley rings will be furnished if desired instead of
clasps. State which finish and whether pulley rings or
clasps are desired. Buy of the Manufacturer.

Send for particulars illustrating; 24 different style
buckles. 72-Pagc Catalogue Free, describinj^ our
immense stock of Diamonds, Watches, Jewelry
and Silverware. ::::::::::::

J. A. FOSTER CO., Maaofactariiii: Jewelers

<CAPITAUZCD $276,000)
ISO'lSd DORRANCB STRBBT, - - PROVtDENCB. R. L

The New

The MONITOR or The GUARDIAN

CASH REGISTER

FOR STORES. RESTAURANTS,
BARBER SHOPS AND SODA FOUNTAINS.

In nine tast-s out of ten a register from our stork will do
the work belter than one costing lea times as much.

ReiflBtert any sale from one cent to $90.90. Separatem
depart tnt'ius, also each salesman's sales as well as amouata
*' Paid Out," " Paid on Account." or *' CharRe Sales.**

Hi)s'hlv ornaint-mal, iK-autifiiUy ftnisheH. and ibofougfaly
made. Twf> tyr*f"i, Monitor and Quardlan.

Nine StylfS $I0.00 to $40.00.

Descriptive ciri,ul.irs on appliLation to

WHITING MFG. CO., Makers.

NORTHBOROUGH. MASS., U.S.A.

PUase mention McClure*s when you write to advertiaen.

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MeCLURETS MAGAZINE.

YOU -^'^

WILL ALWAYS BE
''ON TIME"

If You Own One of the Reliable

Accu rate-to-the-Second "

DUEBER-HAMPDEN

WATCHES

**Lever Set'' and Cannot **Set" in the Pocket

Look for the Name **Dueber'* In case.

Look for these " Trade Marks** on the Works,

Our ''Guide to Watch Buyers" Sent Free*
THE DUEBER-HAMPDEN WATCH WORKS.

'SPECIAL RAILWAY" 23 Jewels.
•SPECIAL RAILWAY" 21 Jewels.
•JOHN HANCOCK" 21 Jewels.
"NEW RAILWAY" 17 Jewels.
"THE 400" Ladles' Watch.

CANTON, OHIO.

Please mention McClure's when you write to advertiaen.
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Insane Chma,

cr, as the housewife would term it, '* Crazy-
ware,** does net appear in the home where
the ware is stamped with the Laughlin
Eagle St Lion hall-mark. Can any
better evidence cf careful manufacture and
absolute reliability be furnished the buyer
of china F That mark means the luxury
of style and good taste in laying- the
table at d price within the reach of all.
Good merchants carry and endorse the
goods. Your favorite dealer will order
for you anything he does not have in stock.

The Homer Laugblin China Co. ,
East Liverpool, Ohio.

NGERSOLL

FOR A D(

': OUTPUT - >
VMILLIONAYEAR

.8 /O 4^

W\0-m

A Marvel of Cheapness — An Example of Accuracy

Tliere is not a man nor a boy in the land who. in justice to him-
WAxrw^'^M'.'* **' ■*^'-"' **'""« without an INQERSOLL DOLLAR
WAH^n, lliere is no one too good to wear it, no one too po<jr la
buy It 1 he favorite of all ; it is worn by the millionaire sportsmati
and Llubnian (to save his hundred dollar onrjasniuch as by those who
cannot afford a costlier lime puce. A more accurate time -keeper can-
not be had at any price, while for Rfacc and beauty it is uosurpasscd.
Fosiiiv dy guaranteed to keep iwrfect lime for one yew or it will be
repaired or exchanged \*ithout charge.

1 T ■ ^Ji ^^' ^°'°^ dealers throughout the country or sent postpaid in
United States and Canada by the makers.

w ^^^m^'.i .'P!»Jw./im-,j..ri

Address ROBT. H J NGERSOLL &BR0/;0ept4B&eS?yS?K"?r>*t:- ;

Please mention McClure's when you write to advertisert.

McOLUBE'a MAGAZINE.

fiWe Trust You

FOR

The Genuine Article Straight from

South Africa

They never grow old. Nothing else in the

world like them.
The money you arc spending thoughtlessly will

buy one in

Our New Way

SEND 4 CENTS IN STAMPS TOR
CATALOGUE AND PARTICULARS

Ceo. £. Marshall

Diiffload Importer loi State Street, Chicago

"My China and Glass Riqht "

:^IGGIHS?SEITEIfe

tMINA,

Illustrated cataloinie> No. to M, with 30 stvles of China

reproduced in exact color— tree to those desiring to

purchase their China and Class at prices averaging

** 1*4 leM thaii elsewhere **

50-S4 West aad Street - New York

"STUART-;/-//

The unusual beauty in design and finish of all silver
bearinK the famous mark

1835 R. WALLACE

has created a new era in silver-plate manufacture. It
has the distinctive tone and fine appearance of solid
silver, with all its wcarinsj qualities. The new patterns

"JOAN," "ASTORIA," and "STUART"

arc cxtreuiely aliractivc. Our richly illustrated cat-

aloKiie No. 75 A will help you to select silver which

will make your table l>eauliful. Sent free on request.

Z ea ding dfa le rr seit IV a ila ce goeds .

R. WALLACE & SONS MFC. CO.

Walllngford. Conn.

Stores in New York, Chicago, San Francisco, London.

Please mention McCIure's when you write to advertisers.
59

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MeCLintE'S MAQAZmE.

FOOT OF COMMON HOUSEFLY
'magnified 2025" TIMES

Has

PNEUMONIA DiPKrRERiA uSmtm

The above disease germs are magnified
1,000,000 times. The foot of the fly only
2025 times. One can imagine that very
many germs will adhere to a fly's foot.
You can catch the fly and prevent infection
by the germ it carries by using

^ sticky Fly

Paper.

•^tiv i^wi 111 II. vail ICO uy U9i

Tanglefoot

It Catches the GERM as well as the FLY.

Spanish Manser Rifles and tebines

in complete first-class serviceable order, captured in late war. 10,000 sold to
us by U. S. Government, with five million ball cartridges in dips. Before
exporting, we otfer limited number at fio.oo each, packed for shipment.
Cartrlilges. I3.00 per one hundred. F. BANNERMAN, 579 Broadway,
New York. Dealer in Military GcmIs and War Relics.

Cost $2980.

TrcBtm^ M. 4,

Mjr latest books arplaK.rit
\ng sizes, costs, views, ctcm:

M 8ta«i««r8iw.C*«'|X| M

4iar«*k*CMk*»r

111

10 plans. AU l

l«c copy; year. 01 jM.

A single oae at ay ietiir»

publisbediii the Lm^Us'thm

^QM«r»M/ has been bitUS ova 9<.

* i. I can pieasc yn&b.

J. KEITH, ArfhiM
OS \mm\9W lxchn|>

■iiKKirom, ins.

TIME PROVES ALL THINGS

Law Office. Dickekson & BBon,

New York City.

"I have used vour tubs sevcralycars .

have them in my house in New York Ctir,

in my country house at Far RodLawajr,

and shooting box in North Caioiiaa

H I <: found tnem very satisfactory and 1

f." t convenience. The water-heaur

works well." E. N. DlcXEtsw

Cat'g of Tubs and Heaters fret

■06ELY POLOISO BAT! TCB CO.

t» <*A.B.**DearfoorB St,. Oncar

EARN A BICYCLE!

By wiling

take orders

a Lady or Crii •■*;.»**•• -«.. .— ^ w. .u..-— .u^...«.^_ ^^^w-^

minmiln Watches. Fnrnitnre, Crockery, Cameras, Mack-

Intoshea, etc Expreaa prepaid. Write to-day.

W. Q. BAKER (Dept.M), Springfield, Mass.

2 LBS. (ilLL'S FAMOUS

Chocolates and Bon Rons

Packed in handsome metal box. inchidiag
Elegant Capitol Souvenir Spoon, a < ^
sent express prepaid, anywhere ^ 1 .^U
in the United Sutes, for . . .1

W. S. GILL

122J PMMsyiTula Avt.. Waiklag|«, B. C.

PIERCE VIPOR LAUNCHES

SATE AND REUABI£. VE UHMNIEE VDU (AN MM TIKN.
XMIB BEAUnrUL CATAIOC lUUSTIWIV IN OXOBS. REE.

spsiwir. HtBffnwiNtm. Bans. patxx.yn._

ONE DOLLAR

Cat Ibis ad. oat 1

to n». BtAtC *

;^^____^;^^_^__^_^_____^^^_^___^__ you wish (JKSTS* 01
LAUlKH' BICVCLE* zX&o color aiid ^&r wanted, and wo will send yoa this HIQH QRA8E

- 1900 MODEL ACMEJEWEL BICYCLE, ^i^^T^^^^i

You can examine at yourerpress office, and If founa perfwllj taitoft^
torr, Msetly at r»pr^*entpd, Ibr MOST WOXDKRITL VALCBy»«»iWf MW W
heard or, equal to blcvcles that retail as hl-h as S40.00, Uyoa th^
you can (sell It at fldOO proOt «»y day» pay the eipress a«eiit m
SPECIAL PRICE, $13-75, leas tho tl.OO sent with onier, or«ll.M awl
expresscbarges. While ourSpcclol BleyeleCatalome, roalledfrw
for tho askliiir, nhowaail bicyclea below oil other hnu«*«>^ strippea
bicyclesat i5. W», «0.00, «7,60, #t*.00«Bd *9.00, theiMw ItKlOtiaeUsattw
eomplrte at »11.;5, yet OUR ACME JEWEL AT $13.75 U by far the
rrcntodtbarealn ever ofTcreil at the price. It is covered by aBJS»-
INO Gl iRANTtK, strielly hlRh pradf, Utp»tof e«rjlliUi«. Famous Beldea
Hantrer, fine equipment Gusnuile^Kl Pn<»D«istie Tli*., hlRh jrrmde Saddle,

Pedals ^landlo Bar, Tools and Toolbar, I-'"'\'"t^i^^J>'*f '^' Bf^";?^

mai^^^r^IF'YOrWAlfT AXY OTimi BICTCLB .d«.r««^ latlita paper or In m-y «U.«g»e, writ, m and we wlU «»* ?«« "*'•••'**;«!* »/*";^®
«. It. VOU CAN MARE 55O0.00 THIS YEAB epADC ROEBUCK & CO. (InC.) CHICAGO*
aelllos this bicycle at $25.00. Address, OfCAIfOf WVCOWWIV W WW. \ / ws»-w.^^w

Please mention McCture's when you write to advertisers.
60

r^''^'+'zed b'

MeCLUBSPS MAGAZINE.

Wicfccs' Refrigerators

PORCELAIN-LIIfEI) INSIDE AND OUTSIDE,
or oak exteriors, are now for the first time offered to
private families. Can be
had in all sizes. They
easily pay for themselves
in the saving of ice.

The leading packing
bouses everywhere rec-
ognise Wickes' system
as the acme of perfection
in rehigerators and all
their refrigerator cars.
This is the best test of
their merit.

CATALOQUC ON APPLICATION.

BRUNSWICK-BALKE-COLLENDER CO., "f*^

HOME BILLIARD TABLES.

We make Billiard Tables for private home use a
specialty. The table as illustrated above 886 with
our guarantee that it is equal to any of our $200 tables
for playing purposes. A smaller size, $65.00. Bymtana
of the a^uatable top which we Mupply, thiM table la nmdily
converted Into a handaome dining or library table.

SOLD ON EASY PAYMENTS.

CataJoeue showing different size tables on application, and we will
mail book showing fOO new "shots" on receipt of 90 cents. Address

( New York, ClKiuall.
)SI.LMiit. Su PrudM*.

aCHICABO, ILL.B»«t

DCSICNS TRADEMMWS

Our fee returned if we fail. Any one send-
ing sketch and description of any invention will
promptly receive our opinion free concerning
the patentability of same. "I low to Obtain a
Patent** sent upon request. Patents secured
through us advertised for sale at our expense.

Patents taken out through us receive special
iM^^, without charge, in The Patent Rec-
ord, an illustrated and widely circulated jour-
nal, consulted by Manufacturers and Investors.

Send for sample copy FREE. Address,

VICTOR J. EVANS ft CO.,

(Paient Attomeya,)

Evans EMlWlnfo WOHIMTOII, P. C

m "Dew Gem"

$dfeiy«Rd2or

IMPOSSIBLE TO CUT
THE FACE.

If s the BEST and

SIMPLEST
Safety ever devised.

N« ezperleaee
re«alred.

We fruarantee and

ke«p them sharp

for one year.

Well, That'* Fine I Prico $2, Postpaid.

or Smid for IBuKfOted Pric« IMt.

SIMMONS HARDWARE CO., St. Loois, Mo.

A DOLLAR'S VALUE FOR 2S CENTS

We will aend, postpaid, six choice Rose plants, assorted— one each, red, white, yellow,
and pink, two of intermediate colors— to any person who will send us twenty-flve cents
for a six-months' trial subscription for our ffreat monthly magazine, HOW TO GROW
FLOWERS. This offer Is good for a limited time only. These Roses are sold by florists
for ten cents each. The plants we send out are vigorous and thrifty. They are on their
own roots, AND WILL BLOOM THI3 SUMMER. The kinds will be specially selected
to suit your climate. This offer may be taken advantage of only by persons not already
subscribers for HOW TO GROW FLOWER5. Order to-day.

HOW TO GROW FLOWERS is a work of art. all the iUustrations made
from photoirr^phs, thus showing flowers as they actually are. The great merit

HOW TO GROW FLOWERS is by far the best floral Joamal published.
Each namber contains 36 large pages, printed on fine book paper, beauti-
fully illustrated. It tells when, how, and what to plant, when and how to
ne. when and how to mulch, how to protect in Winter, how to get rid of

, and what to plant, when and how
prune, when and how to mulch, how to protect in winter, how to get rid .
Insects, water and heat needed, how to bed out plants, the best varieties, about

floral deconitions,and givescomplete directions forhaving success with flowers.
It is the only floral paper not run by commercial florisu. Worth ad

flowers. It is an indispensable aid.whether you hare a ^inele plant or a large

collection No flower lover can afford to be without it. We want you to try

HOW TO GROW FLOWERS, believing once you have seen it you will al-

a dollar a year. wajrs be a subscriber. Hence this great special offer, good for thirty days only.

SIX ROSE PLANTS AND THiS GREAT MAGAZINE SIX MONTHS ONLY 25 CENTS

The Roses alone are worth twice the money. This is the biggest bargain in flowers ever offered. Five collections and five sub-
scriptions for one dollar. Get four of your neit^hhors to subscribe, and secure your own paper and plants free. AddreM

THE FLrORAI^ PUBLISHING CO., 65 South Stone St., SPRINGFIBLD, Ohio.

Please mention McClure's when you write to advertisers.

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ifeCLUBFS MAQAZmm.

Golf Playing^

dard ^^^^^ The Best 25c
V^ai VX ^^ Card Made.

Ask your dealer for them or send
25 cents to us for sample pack.

THE AMERICAN PLAYING CARD CO. •

Midi.

BhVHlLR^^I\GA/l^

An ///nstrXatf CathollG Moattly far Yomag amd OU.
SUBSOtDTlON, SLOO A YEAR.

The 6Ml«at waj to ■abserl^'e Is to aend a dollar bill to
BnnaoBB Bbothxss, ae Baxvlay Street, Kew York.

Hjatdsomely Prtnied,
PNffuseN Jllustrsied,

sna M Utersry Genu *

The Finest CmOwUc
lUgMMine Published.

BENnCER'S MAGAZINE

COXTAINg :

Original Stories by
the Best Writers.

Special Articles on
Interesting Subjects

Current Events, Science and Inventions,
Photography, Stenography, Household,
Dressmaking, Games, Amusements,
Puzzles, Prize Questions, ** For Little
Tots," etc.

NUMEROUS FINE ILLUSTRATIONS.

Nov) Is the best time to subscribe,

BENZIGER BROTHERS,

Dcpl. E, 36 BarcUy Str«ct» New York.

ELECTRICAL
ENGINEERING
TAUGHT
BY MAIL

tiuTi"! .tnti s<iUru-s siu'jv inc
3t home by our mAil sys-
tem. We teach EJcctrical
tnginecring. Mechanical
Hng^tneerinff, MccKanicti
Drawing. Electric Uc- •
Short Popular Electrical Cocr^-
lementarv Msthcmatics. etc., bj

mail. Study In spare lime only.

Institute endorsed by Thomas A.

ine
L-le

lilUoti and others. Catalog free

Electrical Enflncer iMtltiite

Dcpt. B, »ia.»4g \\>»t 88*1 HtrccU >cw York

If Yon Will Sen

JEWELRY Novell ICH we will ffive you
WATCHES, f An Eli AH. BRACK-
LETS Jt i;<>LD It I NGH for your trouble.

No money is required. Send u» >'Our name *nd
full address and we will send you i8 gold plate
scarf and stick pins all set with different colored
slonc5, to sell for 10 cents each.

When you have sold them we will »end you
your choice of the above articles and many other
premiums on our large illustrated list wh:ch we
send ynu wiih the pins. NOVELTY MFU.

CO., »t llnilcy 8t., AtlU*boro, Mass.

Other Lights are Dim

Beside ••THE BEST"
Incandescent Vapor Qas Light.

The cheapest ond strongest light on earth.
More brilliant than electric or acctvlcne gas,
cheaper than a kerosene lamp. It makes its
own gas, is portable, requires no wires or
gas machine, no wicks to trim, no smoke, no
smell, no danger. Approved by Fire Insur-
ance Underwriters.

100 candle power costs only a cents for
15 hours ; gives a powerful, steady, pure
white light.

For residences, (city or country) stores, of
flees, etc., it has no equal. Send for booklet.

The Best Street Lamp is superior to any
other. Agents wanted everywhere.
The B«8l Lif bt Co.« 929 E. Fifth St., Caatoa. 0.

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MeOLURSrS MAGAZINB.

Instantly applied or mo¥ed-»tay-don't tear.

Used by Am. Sug^ar Refining Co., New York ; IlUnois Central Railroad Co.,

Chicago; Northern Pacific Steamship Co., Purtlaivd, Ore., etc.

CatBlov «nd Price lAmt FREE. ^«mple Tac, 5 e«iit«.

Dept. B, CHAS. C, SMITH, Mfr,, Exeter, Nebraska,

Canadian Reprc&cotatives. GRAND & TOY. Toronto.

FILING

CABINET

Direct from tht Factory, '
ft fight prepaid, sent ** On <
Appravalj" lo be returned
at our expense, if not posi-
tively the best j2-drawer filing (
cabinet ever sold at so low a .
price.

Each drawer is fitted with a (
good index.polisbed brass label- ^
holder pull, and strong nickel
plated spring compressor. ^
rront, lop and ends are best (
quarter-s^wcd oak with a fine
polish finish. At retail this size *
and quality sells for |i8 to $25. ^

'Ihc above is but one of
many alzea uf Letter Files <
made by us and sold '* Direct 1
from the Factory at Factory
Prices." '

We Prepay Frtiglii:r';,rt',.r'

«.ippi nn.l north .if South Carolina, i

(f. lints t'»-\onfl on an raual basist)

Urite fi-r ( ataicguf j\o. ••£4."

THE FRED MACEY CO. Brand Rapids, Mich.

Makers of Office and Library Furaiture

Rock the Baby or Yourself in the

Wayne Lawn and Veranda Swing

An outdoor delight in summer on lawn or
porch— an indtmr plcasiure all the year
'round, in attic, playroom or nurse rv. Ap-
preciated alike by >frown-unsand little ones.
Safe, restful, strongly made, noiseless, ad-
justable to any reclining or uprisrht positions. Supercedes the hammoclc.
Can be occupied and operatt^d by one to four pennons. Gives the same
sweep as a 10 ft. Hwin«r. yet is onlv iK fpet high, 7 feet long, 34 feet wide.
Talrert no more room than a couch. Will sustain a ton weight. The pressure
of the foot gives the motion, a a easily operated ns a rocking chair. I rice
from $10 up, according to finish. Free Booklet with descriptions and
prices upon request.

LOUIS RASTETTER A SONS,

Ft. Wayne, tnd.

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McCLURE'S MAOAZtNE.

CHAIR IS COVERED WITH

PANTASOTE

WATERPROOF GREASE PROOF STAIN PROOF

Looks exactly like leather
and costs half as much.

I'niike the cojnmon iinita-
tions oi leather, Pantaitote
dors not rot, peel, or cruck,
cciiitains no rubber, ccHulose,
or other dangerously inflam-
mable substances, and is
affected by heat,
cold, or climate.

tested for
nine years b y
leadin,i{ furniture
makers, carnage
builders, rail-
ways and steam-
ship lines with
perfect success.
Made in stand-
ard colore, plain
or figured.

Bnouffh to
cover a dining^*
chair scat or
footstool sent
for 85o.
In stamps.

SAMPLE FREE! 15x5 inches for sc. stamp and yotir

■^^^^^^^^"■""~ upholsterer's address.

CAUTION I Thfrf are xvorthUxs and danger aus imita-

See '^

Pantasctr ' is sfixm^fd

tions. Set that
on tkf goods,

(D«pU F.i. «9 Broadway,
♦f >e» York City.

PANTASOTE CO^

Fine Furniture from

Factory to Fireside

But from the makers. Save retailer**
and jobber's prcfits and cash discounts.

materials, and

best ever sold

be returned at

Send for nr

ever produced,

for this uncommoolf
smoking cabinet. No. 3633. It is just
the thinf^ for the man who smokes
or who keeps a supplv of Itquorsand
smoking^ materials tor his friends.
It is also used by women for sew-
inir materiab. painting and drawing
as a general utility cabinet. Has two doors,
three drawers, and open
space for cigars, bottles,
etc. Has vertical ve-
neer, French legs, and
beautifully rounded
comers and edges and
rail. It is handrubbed
and polished.

Pnces: Quartered
white oak. 995.00: solid
mahogany, $30Loa
Through a d«]cr it
would cost from f 40.00
toJUj-otk

This is only a sample
of our great variety of
out of tne ordinary fur-
niture.

When cash accom-
panies order we P^o^
pay freight to pomu
east of the MiSBisBtppi.
If not found to be the
at such low prices, any of our goods may
our expense and money will be rmmded.
n catalogue of the finest line of furniture

JONES FURNITURE CO^ Deft C, Syraaue, N. Y.

No. 179.

This is One ef Our. Latest.

It is one of Co styles illustrated sod described in our a
logue " B " for 1900, of

ReOiig aid Oarryfaig Chairs.

The case of invalidism docsn*t ezisK for whkrh we canaoC
famish a suitable chair.

We also make the best types as wcU as the largest variety
to be found, of

Riolhritf durirs Mdl MhsliUi C§Mb§s

FOR SICK FOLKS. WCU. FOLKS. AMD LAZY FOLKS.

AH of which are illustrated and dcacribcd in oor catalogue C
la writing for mtonnation, please particulanar.

GEO. F. SARGENT COMPANY.

AvMM. aaat 2M SItmI. NEW VOIUL

lCcQare*s whaa yoa

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McCLUBBTS MAQAZllSE.

The mechanism of every kind of machine shows some improve-
ment in latest models, and typewriters are no exception to the
rule. The old style typewriters print uivside-dowo, so that
the operator cannot see what is written without lifting: the
carriage. The

^^nWttlX W8IT1NQ V-^

Oliver

TYPEWRITER

M built riirht-side up, and the work is in sight. Operators who
ose the Oliver can correct mistakes as soon as made. Their
minds are not distracted from their work by wondering whether
or not, the printed page is coming out correctly written. Agents
wanted in towns where we have none to show and sell the Oliver.

Please write us to-day for booklet entitled " Twenty-five
Reasons," giving that many points in which The Oliver
Tyfwwriter exceU all others.

The OLiVKR^/rvPBWRiTKR Co.. Q3 Dearborn Street, Chicago

Main Office, 309 Broadway, New York.

J ^^BeacoJi Li

HAVE YOU SEEN THE

Columbia

Bar-Lock No. JO?

Jl Jl Jl

Thk latest model has

BALL-BEARING CARMAGE

in addition to tbe other well-known
features of the Bar -Lock Type-
writer* This gives unsurpassed

EASE OF OPERATION
Jl Jl Jl

Write /or a descriptive aita/of^te
Jl Jl Jl

COLUMBIA TYPEWRITER MFG, CO.

39 West ii6th Street, New York City

Please mention McClure** when you write to advertisera.
65

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McCLURE'S MAGAZINE.

^kejewett

Built for service in every day business. Us heavy
hatig^ersand type bars make it the most power-
ful muni folder. It

WRITES JO COPIES AT ONCE

While being durable and ready for heavy work.
the JEWETT also has a light, responsive touch
and is easy to operate,

Wrile for Itook let. which illus-
tnte^ antt ex|«Uuu everything.

jEWETT Typewriter Co..

etH t,ocust Street. Des Moines. la.

Best in the World'

Urawrn* in U'tli pcdcsuU in&tcsd
i>f clt-sct, if preferred.

Roll-Top Desk, 10

Freight prepaid to any point ia tiie United StatmM
tact of Mississippi River.

f>c:!>kisSolklOak;uul mea>ittics4S in. 1 ii„; vj )>)-i'<^ep;
45 in. hij^li. Ah' inled ((U casters ; (iniwcrs and closet
Iwlow writing Ih il. H.-is z rxtension leave*. PiRcon-
h6le case is(ivt_Tliun;^' siuneas;!!! hi;; li-prict-d desks, and
contains: 2 tneditira-sized drawers; 2 racks fcr pens,
pencils, etc.; a memo. sHrips for card?, hluttt-rs. etc.

Entire Desk iocks auiomaticaity wittteut a key, whma

top is roiled down, by means ot a spring- iock

—one key unlocks entire desk.

Joseph L. Shoemaker & Co.

Salesrooms : 924 ARCH ST., Pbtladelphla, Peon.

Send 2-cent stamp f.jr Catalogue M,

Practical Demonstration

of the work that Dixon's Pencils do, will convince any pencil user that they are
exactly suited to his individual needs. A multitude of styles,
If your .iL-.ilcr I.wsnt k..-ci> tlitm. send 1* cents f

samples w-jfth t

JOSEPH DIXON CRUCIBLE CO..

Jerney CItj,

N. 4.

'noi^toN^

'iS^^v^^

«A«r«W!lffWmflW'"

■.■irl)if^:ifff)ll]nillUllilHlllll}lillll

, .case mention McClure s n len you writt- to aaverttsexs.
66

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MeCLUBBTS MAGAZINE.

r/ ^\

llllNOTON

N91

CCURATtX

AMD

'««aft|Sg

If Is Not Necessary

To Pay $100

ForaFlrsf-GlassTypewriter

Tbe WelUnrton eoflti only iM and doe* air that
any llOO raaehlne will do, besldie** haTinK adraDta^es
peculiarly iui own.

To prove thii, we wllJ iend It to any addrtwn for
trial. If not perfectly iatisfactory money will b* r»-
tamed. Whar more can we do t

Ulttstrated OataJofrue Free.

THE WILLIAMS! MPO. CO., Ltd.,

Box 40, PlattabarSf N* T.

The Largest Contract Ever

Given for Typewriters

250
Underwood
Typewriters

rtae U. S. Govemment buys 250 Machines.

Washington, Feb. a6.— Secretary Long of the Navy Depart-
ment has decided to accept report of special board appointed to
iiiTcsUgate the meriU of Typewriters as to advantages, speed,
inrability, etc., which was, that the bid of the Wagner Type-
writer Co. for 200 to aso Underwood Typewriters was the most
advantageous, and the Department decided to accept it, against
Remington, Densmore, Remington-Scholes, Jewctt, Oliver,
Hammond and others.

ElasHe
«Bcok«6asc

A System of Units

A living book<ase— grows with
your library and always fits It
Small enough for lo or large
enough for io,ooo books. An
ideal book-case for the home.
Fitted with dust-proof disappear-
ing doors, simple and perfect in
operation. Furnished in grades
and prices to suit all tastes and
requirements. Handled by re-
sponsible dealers in all principal
dties^send for list and hand-
some booklet desaibing the
beauties of this case.

Wernicke pays the freight.

ii'li^ifl

w~E mm^m

W^M^^Mi,

*VcrDickcCo,

i83BartlettSt.,
ORAND RAPIDS, MICH.

WAGNER TYPEWRITER COMPANY,
2 1 8-220 Broadway, New York.

Pleaac mention McClure*a when you write to adveitiaeiiL
67

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MeCLUBM*a MABAZINm.

The Edison

Diaphrag^m

Mimeos:raph

A new style hand operattns Mimeograph for the
reduplication of

Type- Writing, Hand- Writing,
Drawings, Maps, Music, etc.

The stencil is protected by a fixed cloth diaphratm
insuring better work and savias of supplies, labor
and time.

A Great Improvement. Quickly Appreciated.

Its many adraatages fully set oiit in our booklet to be had free for the asking.

A. B. DICK COMPANY,
Branch 47 Nassan St., New York. 153-154 Lake St., CHICAOO.

SHORTHAND

forair. Celebrated Per II In method.
Qidckljr learned; no shading; no pc»-
sition: connectire ro»els; nigkest
award World's Fair; self taught or by
; textbook on approval Write H.M. Pernik. Author, Detroit, Mich.

SI^B

Bfi!ieig(yi!!S<»»»

tnm faelory at la w—t wfcslwa 6 |

nealanbrfapi^tiiavwL RoBonaytBaAranoa.

£« fraa tUustmlaii «»«aW)CM4 naelal 0
CASH BVYBBflMIVI^, ,

&SS. INCORPORATED?

Tbc advantages over a person or fina shown by the Corpora-
tioa MaiMt Book, price Si.50» pootpakL

Booklet—" How to Incorporate, ' asc. Circnlsn free.

BANKERS' SUPPLY CO.. 97 QulMy SIrwt, Chkxfa.

All Arithmetical

ProMems

•olred rapidly and accnratoly by tho
lOumptoraetrr. Barea M per cent of
'time and entiraly relieres nervous and
mental strain. Adapted to all eonv
mereial and sclent ino computatlott.
Every offlce should ha.Te one.
WriU for Pam/UiMU
FEUaTABBANT MFC CO..CIiieMa

TYPEWRITER HEADQUARTERS,

X09 Fulton St., New York, sell ad makes nndler half price. I>oo*t
buy befofv writing them lor onprenidiced advice aad prinsk
Exchanges. Immense stock for selection. Shipped for trial.
Guaranteed first class. Dealers supplied. 53-page illns. cat. frrr.

AIXmSTAMDAaD aACIIMIS f

Vn^^Pi^^^ AIXmSTAMDi
■□■■■^L IUNOr*CTCBIKl

i^^^^^^Hewsrrs roa oatai

■R^^Typetriter

TYPEHR1TER3

iwsrrs roa OATAi^oaoi.

Typewriter Enporii

lABoUoSt.

~~:oAoa

fUtnn^Xr ^°^ saver Print
*»*^^**^ Jr your own cards, drco-

H/To Ir^^Wt *"» *^*^^' newspaper,
iUHlKCr with our $5 or$x8
printing press. Type setting easy, printed
rules sent. For man or boy. Send for
catalog, presses, type, paper, to factorr.

THE FRXSS CO., Meridoi, Con.

&^mg.

A GOOD TTPEWRITER

IN YOUR OFHCE

will denonstrate Its odvantofoo.

Send for samples of writinjr. with prioe», etc.

I.arjrest and most complete stock of second-hand Typewriters »»f any house in th«

traiie. Machines shipped, privileffe of inspection. Title to every I

cuy.

UoMla.

'paaelM«»Cal.

ni«IIT QTHRTQ JS^ lironleld ^reet, K«*««r. HI7 WvaMdalte (Street, Kaaaa*

(4«t RlaaMad »t..Hltl*k«rBh.Pa. IkSeCalirorala St., Han FraaelMi

Pleasf mention McClure's when you write to advertisers.

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McChUBB'S UAOAZIUB.

ForSalebyAIIDcalcra.

Lead ana
Colored
Pencils.

Stationers'

Rubber

Goods,

Inks.

¥
Mark the initials

A. W.

before the name of

FABER.

CstabHshed 17fl.

Here, There and

Everywhere

many persons of great prominence have endorsed

Waterman's

Ideal

Fountain

Pen

as the

Best Writing Instrument

It is the one fountain pen entireljr satisfactory.
A trial permitted ; exchanges are invited. Inquire
at your local dealer's, or write for booklet.

L. E. Waterman Co.

Larfl^est Fountain Pen
Manufactureri in the World

157 Broadway, New York

12 Golden Lane, London
McClmv 5-0

DESTINY

ANYBODY

who uses

CARTER'S
INK

is destined to be

SATISFIED.

40 years of study and accumula-
tive chemical knowledge accounts
for the quality of Carter's Ink.
Uncle Sam uses it in all depart-
ments. All of the great railroads
use it and the school boards of all
the large cities buy it to the ex-
clusion of all other makes of ink.

Carter's Ink ought to meet your
needs.

There are sixteen kinds to
choose from — only one quality
of each kind — The Best*

Please mention McClure*8 when you write to advertisera.

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MCVljUHm^a MA.UJUUNM.

The ''COMFORT" CHAIR

The "Comfort ** ReclininR Swing: Chair is what you ought to have
for the porch and lawn durinjf the coming season.

It is easier and more comfortable than a hammock, takes up less
room, IS not in other people's way, and can be easily moved from place
to place just as an ordinary chair could.

You can lie down in it, or sit up in it, or swing in it with but the
slightest effort.

It instantly responds to the slightest movement of the occupant.

It is light but strong, and neat and handsome in appearance.

For shipping and storing it can be folded into a compact space of
only A% by 3< inches.

Order at least one of these Chairs now and get the full benefit of it
during the Summer months.

Ask your furniture dealer for them. If he doesn't handle them,
we will send you one for $4.25, cash with order, f.o.b. Chicago, or $4.75,
freight prepaid to all parts of the United States east of the Roc^
Mountains and north of North Carolina and New Mexico.

HAQQARD ft MARCUSSON CO, 4lt SmM Cmii stmt. Chkm. nt

tll^s^edl^^ tei^'^^S^^ ^^St>;i^:^9f

SECURE from FIRE

Why keep vour valuable papers— Deeds. Bonds,
Contracts, Mortgages, Notes, insurance Policies,
Receipts, etc.— in an old tin box or bureau drawer
where they will be destroyed in case of fire, when
for $8.00 we will ship you this Guaranteed

FIRE-PROOF BOX

which will preserve its contents perfectly in Che
very hottest fire ? Write for pamphlet and our
new 140- page illustrated Safe catalogue.

Inside DlrncnstoDS
ng, 6in vndc, 3 In. deep

At'i^ru*iinate w^rlijtit, 50 ll)S.

rnc VICTOR SArc e> lock co.

Detiartment 17 CINCINNATI^ OniO ^

PB^^^'^Q^^ ^S^^aS^^ ^JS^^f^^^

The "HANN"
Hammock:

$3.00 i

► Holds Its full width ai all time*. Ha* adjuitable arms. A ,
^ in(f arm chair, conforminj; lo the body and rest* onr all

► Ml,!.- nf hrii-ht f.inrv ^rr{prd O-t'-k, ^trnne -"-M'.-h '— "-rlT-

^r'--r-''-- ^i-i-i- y i-i. uj ^. ttC 'j I rtjl ui 1 .tC i Ui. 1,- illA^U MWIA AC^MMT

L express east of Rocky -mountains. NoI^XOk with a in. nS£
(•3.00 t No. ao. with 5 in. frin«. #3.99 1 No Z. .^V^
k frinee, 93<*'S0l No. 40, with 8 in.lnnce, $3.7*') ; No cp. witiia
k in. fringe, 04.00.

ISWlNfilNii CHAIR

With AdiottaMe Hesd Rett

I Instantly adjusted to any desired
* height of seat. Strong enough for
^ erown people. Folds into space 6 in.
^ by 2 ft. We manufacture tnem and
' prepay express charges east of Rockjr
1 mountains. Size 2x3 feet.

No. to, with 4 in. fringe, 01.50
No. 30, with 8 in. fringe, 0l«7il
No. 40, with 8 in. fringe, 0^*00

THE HANN MFQ. CO.
1 133 E. Ung St, Colmobiis, 0.

Please mention McClure's when you write to advertiser*.
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MeCLURE'S MAGAZINE,

Spaulding & Co.,

PARIS:
96 Ave dc l*Operm,

Goldsmiths, Silversmiths
and Jewelers.

CHICAGO:
Jackion Blvd. cor. Stote Sc

Spring Weddings.

The abundance of artistic and appropriate
gifts to be had at our establishment, all of
assured quality, unique and exclusive in
design, and at consistent prices should
attract those who are interested in approach-
ing weddings.

Our "Suggestion Book" mailed on application.

Spaulding & Co., Jackson Blvd. cor. State St., Chicago.

DIRECT FROM THE FACTORY > «

BUYS THIS
USCLLCNT

"MACEY"

Desk, No. lo-H, dirtct from the factory , Freight Pre-
paid^ sent ** On Approval/* to be returned at our ezpenae if
not found positivelv the best roll top desk ever sold at so
low a price. Worth at reuil $a8.oo to $3<;.oo.

This desk is 48 in. long, 30 in. wide. 48 in. high. It ha>
a fine quarter-sawed oak front, closed back, front base mould,
aa pigeonholes, 9 file boxes, 2 arm rests^ ball bearing caaxxxs.
and 3 oonplcte letter files. Beautiful polish finish.

A I VKT AprLIKD FOH

We Preoay Freiaht *? *?" p""'^* cast of the Mis-

Carolina. (Points beyond on an equal basis.)

Write for our Complete Catalogue No, Ba.

THE FRED MACEY CO., Qrand Rapidt. MIoh.

Makers of Office and Library Pumiture.
♦ ♦♦#♦♦#♦♦»»»♦•#♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦<■♦# »

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HV%>.«« *J M.md

I WHY PAY $60^ MORE

for a sttrrej than Is actoaUr DMeMMy. H 7<m boy » job aa good aa

^ tSll charwo yoa aboot that amonntla eonu

ir fa(^T7 and aave It. Wa ara tka larMM

raaaarartarersorYahlalesaad UaraaM U tka warM •ellli« ta tka

from a daaier or aaant be •mUl charKo 70a
I Hlon. Buj direct from our factoi

to tboM MUtef Cor no flMNb

WE HAVE MO Aeam

we make ITS etylM ofTeMeleeandWetyiaeafka^

' --nre forexamlnati<m,goaraii-

Ton take no risk, aa all oar

nees and ship auTwhere forezamlnatioau SQjuan-
teeine eafe dellTery. Yon take no risk, aa all our
workla goarantead ae to quaUty, tylaand flnteh.

•^

You hare the advantaga * tba tergaet etodt In
the coantry to saleat from. Uon't boy a Teblcla
or kaneflaofany kind nntU yoa iret a fiaa copy
of onr larsa Ulaetradad «»tada«««.

Eiklart Cirriip ud Raniast MfK. Co.,

Cut the Cost
of a Carriage

by buying It of
tho makers. Pay
only one, in-
fitcad of two or
three profltH.
No other fac-
tory cau build
finer, hand-
somer or more
snhstfinLial vo-
hlclea than
thoue which we
ship direct to
btiyerw— Instead
of Hell incr through dealers. Our great faclll-
ttt'S and long experience enable us to secure
tho highest qualtly of material and work-
manship at tho lowest cost.

We make harness as well as carriages, and
sell great quantities of robes, blauketjft, and
all horse accessories— all at prices that will
save voii dollars. The purchaser may return
anything with which ho la not satisfled, and
get his money back. ,

THE COLUMBUS CARRIAGE & HARNESS COMPANY,
COLUMBUS. OHIO.

. So. 21*1.' — ('nnopr Top Surrt-y
I Trlee. $S>.T5.

SIMPLEX LAUNCH ENGINES

Biirn Naphtha or Gasoline. Excel in Bafety. ^iRf UicitT

and Design. Most Reliable Motor? for Small Boats;.

FAIRBANKS, MORSE & CO.«

Clilcar<K A(- Lottlii. Ht.FAul, I^uUtIIU, ClfTrlsnd.
diiclnitutl, Httu Frunflt»e«K, Portland. <lre.

All tt\e lar^esc and r&stest
jjas -propelled yachts on the
Great Lakes are equipped with

DIMT^

SiNTz Gas Engine Co*

Godfrey Avenue Grand Rapids. Mich.

-=.sJRl

llaveaCatTla§e,$lr?

WE MAKE THEM AND SELL DIRECT TO YOU AT
LESS THAN WHOLESALE PRICES-

Full line of Buggies, Carnages, Canopy Top and Extension Top Surreys. Open
Stick Seat Surreys, Phaetons, Traps, Driving Wagons, Concords, Spring
Wagons and all kinds of single and double harness. Every articSe guaran*
teed. Shipped anywhere subject to buyer's approval. If not satisfactory,
return at our expense. We save you $35 to $75, according to the Job.
Get our free catalogue before buying.

Mkt JlllA7nfl GARRIA8E & HARNESS CO.,
RALAfflA^UU 101 140 MUMAIOO, MICH. '

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MeCLUBE'S MAGAZINE.

te^nj^ ^

'^^:SL'tJt.^r:'£}^[:z:Li

'■-jiJMo

BAUSCH & LOMB-ZEISS

STEREO

BINOCULAR GLASSES.

Differ from all others.

Lenses are farther apart than the eyes.

This gives Stereoscopic Effect.

The ordinary stereoscope makes objects in a
photograph stand out in relief.

Stereoscopic Effect in these Glasses makes
Distant objects stand out, lifelike and plainly.

SMALLER^LIOHTER—

MORE POWERFUL.

IMMENSE FIELD OF VIEW.

Biwklct Fret'

SOLD BY ALL DEALERS.

Catalog of Photo or Micros* o^ic Goods r*n A/^^lication,
Chemicah 0/ all Kimls.

BAUSCH & LOMB OPTICAL CO.,

NEW VORK. ROCHOSFHR, N. Y. CHICAGO.

,^;fl&^:*X>v«,*is:-rfWft^ - >--<

Globe Gasoline Engines,

FOR MARINE»«''5TATI0NARY SERVICE .

LAUNCHES,YACHTSand WORKING BOATS

ALSO FOR SUPPLYING AUXILIARY POWERFOR SAILING CRAFf..

NO FIPE
^0 SMOKE A

nohea;^

■H t .,K . Pt--*ri-

EXPLOSIONS

& nodanoer

!••' NO n>iMENT

picTION

AlwaVs Ready^ For Instant Service,
No ExpeKse. Except When In OperatioNj^

PENNSYLVANIA IRON WORKS CO,

Philadelphia, Pa I

iNarywwDfflct fci BftOAPWAYJ

5;;^gfeiggi^ri*@gg^ac InformatwhI

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MCVIjUIUS^S JKLAUJLZIirJC.

THE LUCKEROuIeD CIGARI

Has by its undeniable merit won an enviable position in the i

regard of the American smoker. Made of tender young leaves!

of the most delicate Porto Rican growth, they have a flavor equal \

to any imported cigar on the market, and at one^fourth the\

\cost. They supply what has long been sought for; a luxurious

I satisfying smoke at an economical price. It's like saving money

[to smoke the Lucke cigars; but it's the quality, not the

price, that recommends them.

O ^^ WkM All 'r*'* l-iiflie Kolird ( Igritr, box ..f w. prepaid to any ad-
D T Ivl All- an-s^ in the VmwA St.itcb.for «1.«6. or loO Llicke KolU

(the small editi-ri! fur #1.00. S.itibf.iction j^uarantced, or your money back.

J. H. LUCKE & CO.,

Lucke Block,
CINCINNATI, OHIO.

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MeCLUBtrS MAOAZINE.

(^-^

toOider$li

A a offer made by aae of the largest
corset concerns la the U a Ite4 States,

The Coronet Corset Compatiy's plant 4
is the most improved and complete in \
existence. It turns out the finest and *
richest class of jjoods made in the world.
Nowhere else except in Pans. France,
are floods made of equal hii;h -class. We
are throwin(( open our entire depart-
W f ment of Special Orders for the benefit of
I f all women who are particular about their
I ff corsets and-af Factory Prices ~\\'\\\ make
\ s upfo measure an Advertising Special build
I f of the matchless

/f^gne jVloiilded C^jomet

•old by dealers at %}-y> to $5.00 Ctbe latter fif^re when
made to order). Our Department of Special Orders
has operated for years in fittinff special shapes at
special prices for dealers under this same system of
measurement Measuring for a Corset is simple ; the
difficulty is to make up a corset and to mould it in
its sinews and stays according to the individual
measures as taken.

SEE NUMBERS IN CUT ABOVE.
I Bust Measure ; 2 Waist Measure ; 3 Hip
Measure ; 4 Under Arm to waist line; Q Prom 1
waist line to bottom line of present corset ; or higher '
or lower than same, if desired.

This corset will be made and forwarded to you
upon the receipt of tt.oo. Should tou require a sise
in waist measure above ^, or a blaclc lined corset,
add as cents to your remittance. We protect voa
absolutely, and guarantee complete pleased satisfac-
tion by a second fitting if necessary.

We make this remarkable offer tor a purpose— not
for your dollar— we do it to bring the Flexibone right
home to you in a more direct way than any ordinary
advertising could do and to show you why a Flexibone
I at I1.50 is worth three of any ordinary |i corset |
sold in stores.

II Is the ciMBce of yow Uffe-tIm Is gd a corset thai Is

a flttoi. sMsMei oxsalsMo gsrsMsl-al cool to make.

Only one mods for any ons person. Putnre |

I ardcrs and Inquiries will all Im referred to dealers.

Right now and direct front factory Is the only

1 way you can obtain a Flexlhone AdvertMng Spe-

I clal,-aMdeandnioaldedtoofdcr-for$i. Address

1 CORONET CORSET COmBox EJaokson^Mich. ,

^^* NORTHERN

MILES

/wow

CHICAGO

&0
100
100
£€>3

//a

lee
iB^
379

334
400
43S
477

NEARBTir

RUMMER
Rj^SORTS

Fox LaA:^

Z/AAoifluike

Star LAfte
Spirit t^oAe

*^,Mi,m£JkMM^

CHICAGO MILWAUKKB «^«r.RIUIk RV.

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MeCLURE'S MAOAZINE.

Dairying on Business Principles y^

means that only the best milch cows shall be kept,
and thai they shall get the kind of food that will -
produce all the rich milk it is possible to produce.

^Id/^y^

SM ALLEY'S FAMILY
OF FEED SAVERS

should be a part of every well-equipped dairy.

Send for trtm iUvBtnted booklet.
"Farming on BntloM* Princlplei."

SJraxjL^r jr^o, ca.

MoniU^w^et %Wim%

MOVING PICTURE MACHINES

STEREOPTICONS 'r-a'S.f^n'^iJp-uSlS^

tlf-« f<ir mt- n with Htn&ll capital.
Wc start )(»tj,funihhinKCoini»lei«
uiitfita aii.l fx Illicit limlnictjuns
&i a aar|idsiiigly low cuaU

THE FIELD IS LASGE

IcomprinInK the regulwr thputro

fieJdn ill Churrhw. Public S«-h.«jU

Lodgeii and (ienerml JHiLIlp

Oathertiir*- Onr Entortalnmctit

Svpply Catalnirnc ind special offer fully exrlalns everj-thinK, 8«ntFree*

CHICAGO PROJECTING CO.. 225 Dearborn St., Dept. Y, Chicago

Before Buying
iNew A^J

Kiif'losc 5 Cent 8 in

statu J IS i(> pay postaj^e on
^oS j)aj,'<? lltustrateil (."ata-
loj^in' nf Custom Made

Oak-Tanned
Leather Harness,

direct to the consumer from the
manufacturer, at wholesale prices.
We can save you money.

ao years^ experience.
The KING HARNESS CO.,Mfrs.

211 Church St,, Owe^o, N. V.

BUILTforSERVICE

Vc Milp lllrert to the rnnsunur Al
LuwcAt H'hol«r«uile I'rlcr*

tiif iiiowt rt'liable line of
\ velilcleiketc, to be found any-
Jwlifrt. IJullthul»HtAiitlalIjor
Jhoneat material— workman-
r Khlp the l^esl — one of them

__,__ will outlaiit two of the ortllrH

ary kiixi l.iiamntM-d aMrej.n-Mented oryourmoney bark.
We will f.hip C.o.ixwlth prlvileipe of examination. Vua
rlHk nothln»r. Keliahle Top Bu^'jry. •S'l.OOl One anrJliK
WaKon ilSH.OO; Btrontr two hot>e Farm Wa|ron,M4.##|
liandMome Siirrfv. #54.00| well ma^Ie Portlan<l Cotter,

f\t.%^\ Cartn. lfiH.&» up. Slnv:].- hartiPfs <lt.50: Farm

CASH BUYERS' UNION. 15S W.VanBuren St.,B-164.Cblcacv

^ BURRELL ENGINE

THE 1900 TYPE

UMS OA* OR OAftOLINC.
Compact, Simple. Reliable and Ani«ilJc,
Huilt in (Quantities. Parts Intenrhanjceablr.

Material iind Workmanship the Kcsc.

At. H.F. Weitfht. Time PrUe. Stiot Cask

\% fftfo •140.0« iltft.*fi

S 900 l«O.0« 14&.0«

All Krtifin''v tiuamirtcetl. Sole M»krr>

HKII.I.IN A RICIIARl»8MFO.C«..

»45 W. Jf fTrraow Wt., Chrcago, 1 1 Ik.

1F«Y tjkiiij,' (irdiis lor Cusluin Tailor Made

HansenTailoring Co. '«* -^ ^-^ '"^

, ii»,' »'rt

SuilH, pRUtNUnd llvercoata. Kvery garment made
" ■ 40aa»Hw

HuitN from ^10 up.

> Chicafo.

YOU CAN EASILY EARN

bicycle?!. tcwiiiR iiiiM-Kiit)»]i. hi'ij^f fuiiti>}iiii){!«. latlie*' ur peiitlrtiK-n »> wAiches, camsra^.
m-irid->liii* ►.'uitarN. vi.-lm*. iilvcrviatc. diiiintr st-ts, u.nii". Mid >'»ur chojceof ahumlrfd
other art If If 1. all raaranlred. Sim|(lv mtriHluc*- ii ifw U'ws i>l uur uneic«lie<l tM(|.-t
Bo»|(n ami any .if thi-ni «rr yimri- Srod na amarj. Wf Irunl jtiB. (Jirls Atid b<>ysd<> is
well as .ihlt-r ve«>l>le. Write nt MUr.fMr ftili inf-.rtiiatiMii VV. ruiil litiTiKortit. iMu-.tr tl-d
caUloK free, itddrp^s Orrat Northern Woap Wor^w. «4 Lafce Hi.. Oak Park, III.

nON'T TAKF TIHF to Read this advertisement

m^^^V^ m ml^mMmd M MAfMM^ Unless You or Your Friends Have a Vegetable Garden or a Lawn.

If you have a veK^t?table Kiirden, no matter how i«maU. we can make It easy to rare for, anda aouroe of pteaiiar« and proftt
'"I'tlnd that not tme town-'twfller or villatjvr In u.*n. who Yi^» a fu ally veirctable ifarden. kitowrt the full viilui» of tnc
*l*lauet jr.*' uiola. Kvery larjre family ifanlen ^m^>e^ative^y neeil:< tri»> Mfrvlceti of the **l*l«net Jr." No* Sfr

Examine tht- nit. The
*ii W11180W Mil ycnir irai-<len s«.«^tf
I'tly rirfht. elLhiT In hilltt ur dHlin. It
■peii!

f^erder and f ultlviitor.
7>ia «5will80i

Thi* i^niaU family vet^etahlc (nu*den requin
"Planet Jr.** No. 1(t, mncle Wheel lloe. »

VVorklni; It Isa dfll>rht. It ho*»ii, pjown. r&ke^B
andiMiltivute-* wtth the K"*t«'!!ft ea-«e; all with-^
In the eawv utrf-n^tlh <»f a man, wf>man ^£t 9

or a bov. and fi will eot*t you nnly ^V

All Of tnirltnplfmentjtari' made nf the vt^ry
best material and are fully warranted.
Either of thes-e will Ik* went promptly on receipt of price, < ._,,
■an iw obtained from > our dealer, 'n- write for full dewrrlptlve
■atalo^rne. Any advu-e yr»u may want we ***" wladlv irive^
to the l>ee«t of our ability.

.-, covers, rollt* and jnut ki* the
Then a« a hoe. tilow mxl
ultivator. It rnakeitea^y at
the tf^arden from t^priiiK
^'li fall, I'riee only

$14l

S L. ALLEN & CO,,

Box 71 IF,
PHILADELPHIA, PA.

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MeCLURE'S MJiGAS^NMi.

t^«^^«^^^l^«««^^^«^«««^«««««4^^^^«^«««4fc«««^$^^K«^«««^^A^4b.

THE

MONTAUK

c4lw^fs Strictly High Grade.

Price, $15to$l5a

^^^

QENNERT, M Bast lath Street, New York.

The difference be-
tween MONTAUK
CAMERAS and

others is very much
as the difference be-
tueen factory-made
clothing and the
product of the justly
celebrated tailor.
The latter, like the
Montauk Camera,
has quality, style,
goodness and indi-
viduality. It looks
different and is
different from the
fcictory-made pro-
duct. Send for our
1900 Catalogue,

also
Vaiuable Pamphlet

on Hauff^s

Developers, Metol,

Ortol, Adurol.

^^^^^^r^9^99^9^^9^99^^^^9^9^y^^99^^99^^^^9^»j»99^^9^9^^r^*

The Breatest Photographic Offer E¥er Made.

NEHRING'S
CONVERTIBLE

AMPLISCOPES

PLT UP IN A NEAT CASE CONTAINING

1 Capylns a«d Knlarfffvff lien*,
1 Pttrtrnft licna,
1 Wide Avvie l«eB»,

ITelo Photo Lens.
Orihochroinailc Ray Screen.

These lenses can he used with any
camera matie, fitted tvitk a reo
tilt near or an anastigmat lens.

Price per set, containing the above lenses, 4 x 5— $5*oo ;
% X 7— S6.00. I lie akove lenses can be luUI sintly «t $3.00
eacn In the 4 x 5 size, and $3.25 c«ch in the 5x7 size.

U. NEHRINO, Dept. H, 16 East 43d St., N. Y.

We En large-
Photographs

Most amateur photographers have many negatives
stored away that would make pretty enlargements.
Possibly you did not know that beautiful wall
pictures can be made from these small negatives.
Pick out one o' 'he best, send it to us with $1, and we
will make a beautiful enlargement, mounted on 16 x 30
dark bevel edge card, and express it prepaid. Smaller
sizes from 350. Write to-day for full information con-
cerning sizi», prices, styles and catalogue of Cameras,
Photographic Supplies and Monogram Stationery.

FRANKLIN PRINTINa AND ENQRAVINa Ca,

302-306 Superior Street, Toledo, Ohio.

Ask your dealer to show
the latest Magasine Cam-
era and Automatic Tripod.

Product of 1900

SUNART VICI
MAGAZINE CAMERAS

Size 4x5, $8.00. At one loading 12 Plafes or 24 nims

IMPROVED PNEUMATIC SHUTTER. ACHROMATIC

LENS. EVERY CAMERA GUARANTEED
Folding: and Cycle Cameras from $5.00 to $50.00. Catalos:tie free
8UNART PHOTO CO., Rochester, N. Y., U. S. A., No. ai Aqueduct St.

Ptease mention McClure's when you write to advertisers.

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fi_

• ¥ ^ ^

^^^^^^B^- -*^'~ ' i^P^^^K^^^^^^*^^.

^E^

• jjgj^

isn't

Eastman

isn't

Kodak.

Picture Taking with

The Folding
Pocket Kodak

means a full realization of the charms of photography without the
drawbacks of burdensome apparatus, without bulky plate holders or
heavy, fragile glass plates.

The Folding Pocket Kodaks have the finest meniscus achromatic
lenses, our automatic rotary shutters, sets of three stops and accurate
view finders. They are, in short, equipped for the finest photo-
graphic work, and like all Kodaks they use our film cartridges and

Load in Daylight.

Folding Pocket Kodak No 1, for pictures 24 x 3^ inches*
Folding Pocket Kodak No. 1 A, for pictures 2Vi x 4V4 inches,
Folding Pocket Kodak No. 2, for pictures 33^ x 3'4 inches,

$10.00
1200
15,00

Kodaks $5.00 to $35.00.

EASTMAN KODAK CO.

Catalogues free at the dealers or by mail.

Rochester, N. Y.

Pleasr mention MrCltjrr's wIipm yon write to .-tclvfrtiseTS.

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MeCLURX'a MAOAZINK.

*'^It works of itself,

Aristo
SeM-Toning

PAPER is equal In per-
manent to our cele*
brated Aristo-Platlno.
Nobottiersome developers'
or uncerCain toners; no
fading.

*^ It U time wasted to make a 9oad
notatiTe and lose it all In a poor

j^-.t- »»

prnn.

affiWURiiBISTOPAPQS

the full Talue of the

negathrc^ are fadelraa and rdl-

ahle. Tbat*» why they are oaed

the world over by leadinip

pcofcaiional |>liotofp%pheta»

All photsBTaphers of reputarioa

skill will Imish your work on Ama

Aristo products without the ask

Others will if yoa insist upon it.

AristePlaltMftrVitt tvlaceUlcli.

AMCmCAM ARISTOTYFC CO.
. JAMESTOWN. N. Y.

The Lovell

IJl^^^ Is the cominc
§^ Id^Lw phoeogmphic
plate. If you
are osiiig it you are using
tbe best. If uot^ try it and you
wiU become a coaaUmt user.
The Lovell Drt Plate is
guaranteed and proved to be as
fast as any and more rapid than
most. Compare the prices of
all stancknrd plates and note the
saving is using THE Lovell.
Stripped prosnptly in Summer as
well as in Winter — no delay.
All dealers sett them.

On reoefpt of 15 cents we vfll tend a sample pscksgts
paid, 4x5 only. If yoa mention this
Oar booklet, ** Snn Magie," IkTCw

THE LOVELL DRT PLATE MFG. COMPANY

New Rochcllc, N. Y.

Wm^

Just a Few Seconds

exposure to gas or lamp light and a few
more seconds For development makes a

VELOX

Print. Exquisitely soft matte effects.

NEPERA CHEMICAL CO.
Division of the General Aristo Co.

.rarsa^^y ^^fl^ N^P^*^ Park,

4x5 WENO$000
HAWK-EYE

Uses Daylif^ht Loading Film and is fitted with fixed focus
Meniscus lens of sit{>erior quality, an ad{ustable speed rotary
shutter, set of three stops, view finders and tripod sockets for
both vertical and horizontal exposures. Has nickeled fittings
and fine morocco grain covering.

Perfect in design, workmanship and finish and is positively
the most convenient 4x5 camera made. AH dealers sell it.

Hawk'Eyt catal»t^ue/ret by maii,

BLAIR CAMERA CO.
Formerly of Boston. Rochester, N. Y.

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McCLUBE'8 MAGAZLKE.

? MAGNIFY

3 TO 12

PrAMETERS
PRICES FROM
H4.507O*7250

HEAD OFFICES: BERLIN-FRIEDENAU.
branches: 22 Rua de rEntrep6t PARIS.

4-5 holborn- Circus, LONDON, EC

trieder»Bmocubr$

Magnify at equal size 8 to 10 times more
than old style glasses and at equal magnifica-
tion show 8 to 10 times larger field. Unex-
celled for Racing, Huntings Field, Yachting «ni
Military purposcs; also for Theater use.

C p. Goerz

Tbe umei

CP.Goerzaad CrMcr-BMdc

are M every rlass. niBStratedde$crl»-

tf?e pria list free on appUcatloii to any

4eakr In opUcal coodi. or direct to

O^tkol W«to: 52CIWo«S4i»«.N.Y.

It's mgy to kMd an
Adlake Plateholder.

The Fascination of

ADUKE PHOTOGRAPHY

is enhanced by the eaae with which Ad-
lake Plateholders may be handled and
which gives to Adlake Cameras a dis-
tinctive value over all other makes

Twelve Adlake Plateholders loaded,
occupy but a fraction of an inch more
than 12 (jlass plates. Each is a separate
thin metal portfolio which shuts like a
watch case — light'ttght. dust proof.

Buy Adlakes of your dealer if you
can, If not, send to us.
Adlake Cameras, $8.00 to $13.30

Send for new Adlake Booklet

THE ADAMS & WESTLAKE CO.

118 Ontario St., Chicago.

Light of
Experience

Travelers use Ray Cameras because they are
reliable, compact and simple. They are never
out of order. Their moderate price puts
them within the reach of all. They use
European sizes of plates as well as American.

Before deciding your purchase, send for our i

caUIogue fully describing our many styles.

Price, $2.50 afid up.

Our •• 1900 " Catalogue is now ready.
^Tto RAY CAMERA CC 42 Co^raa St. RodMor. K.T. (

FIVE CAMERAS IN ONE

PRICK
OF ONE

Do not buy a Camera until yoa have
examined the

"AL-VISTA" PANORAMIC CAMERAS.

With the patent long and short negative atUchment
yoa can take a 4 z 4, 4 x 6, 4 x 8, 4 z 10 and a 4 x la-
inch picture, as desired. Consequently you have
five cameras in one. And the •• AL-VISTA^ i» made
for time and snap-shot work, too. Uses the ordinary
4 z s dayliffht loading film on spools. I>rop oa •
poatal and M^t our looo catiilorae.

■ULTISCOPE A nUi CO.,

mention McCIare*B when you write to advertiaero.

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McCLintE'S MAOAZJITE.

nmm

The most Beautifully Finisfaed,

Practical and Reliable Cameras

sold this year.

The superiority of

Vive Lenses

gives them the

LEAD ^

EVERYWHERE

Daylight Loading and Mecfaao-

ical Fixed Kocus and

Focusing Cameras

$520 to $1522

VMunny FoMiag Cameras

$ 1 022 to $7022

You will rcRrct buying any camera
without first carefully examining
our elegant 1900 Art Catalogue
and Illustrated Brochure FRLE.

Embossed mounted photo 5c extra.

VIVE CAMERA COMPANY

Manufacturers,
N. W. Cor. SUte and Washlaston Sit.

CHICAGO.
Refeot HoMc, Regeat St. W. LONDON.

$ We are Selling '^

I At Our New Store I

(Cycle and Folding) j^

ASCOT f

CAMERASl

Our

Catalogue
Prices

until Stock i.i exhausted

CAMERAS OF ALL KINDS
BUCKEYES KODAKS

PREMOS CYCLONES

and a complete stock of
PHOTOGRAPHIC SUPPLIES

Cataiogue Free,

^ E. & H. T. ANTHONY & CO.

L^ 122-124 Fifth Ave., Now York
45-47-49 E. Randolph St., Chicago. ^

Please meatioa McClure't

i
I

n^imM

>than voui

I^^BULLARD

Folding
Magazine
Camera.

Series 3.

^I0'9£d

[n.jtini;tLi!Lm.miiuiuL,iiLJULLju

EIGHTEETV4X5 &Ia^^
pIfLtes -ait oneloadm&^

We are frequently told that our Scries B,|io.n>. Mat,'-
azine Camera is entirely t.x> line for the money. It is
a superb instrument. Wautiful in design and finish •
Mahokrany front, special adjustable Lens and special
Shutter. The Magazine works v^ith the speed and
tl accuracy of a repcalinK^ rifle. The two-wint dcscrlp-
' ttve Fixed Focus Scale U a new and valuable feature
of this Camera making it as simple to manipulate as
a Fixed t ocus Camera without suffering any u( its
limititions. CaiaJogite No. 3 free.
Maffitzlne rnmerat. from ♦10.00 to ♦40.00.
THE BULLARD CAMERA CO., Sprinjfleld, Mass.

when yoa wriu to advotiKxs.
8X

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mCUljUitJB'a JSL3.UtJUeH£9Jli,

Three Minutes

,.uf;- Ib'f^

'^^m^ir'^-- . •

Only required to take, develop, and
finish the above picture with the

NODARK
CAMERA

Size of camera, 3^ in. wide, i% in. hieh, 12 in. long.
Size of pictures, 1% in. x 3M1 in.

With this camera the entire tedious and dif-
ficult science of photography is reduced to such
simplicity that any child can use it.

JVO DABK ROOM.

No Costly Chemicals.
No Printing Frames.

No Blurs or Hazy Results.

The prqcesf is so perfect that every plate comes out
right. There is no secret about the Nodark Camera—
simply a new dry-plate tintype is used instead of glass
plates or films. Every Nodark Camera is complete nnH
perfect. Also Includes ^6 plates, 1 developinff
chanber, a bottles of solution, and Instructions
how to operate and make the pictures.

Price $6.00.

Buy from your dealer. If he won't supply you, write
us. /^rff booklet sent on request,

POPULAR PHOTOGRAPH COMPANY.
114 and 116 Bleecker Street, New York.

'' It 's all in the Lens

The most popular Camera of the day is tlie

LONG FOCUS KORONA!

SERIES VI

Durinfi; the past few months the orders for fi*
Camiera nave incfrased greatly. It appeals to both the
amatetsr and sldUed photographer^ auid is ^worthy of a-
aminatlon by all who care for this most inleic^llng aft

It has a Donble-SUdlac Fro^t
Convertible Leas
Among It has Double Swiag Ba^k

Its l^k and Pinloa

Advantages The Back is Quickly Reversible
Korona Shatter
Time, Bnib and lastaalaaeous Eifsi««
Write for Catalogue and full particulars.

GUNDLACH OPTICAL CO^ Rochester, N.T.

••Not la tbe Tml"

Chase BOX Magazine Camera

Send tor FREE Catalogae,

KOZY CAMERA CO.,

34 Warren Street. BOSTON. iQASS.. U«$.J^.

Please mentfoa McClure't when you write to ad^ertiserk

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MeOLUBSrS MAQAZJNE,

•^•^.«#^^#^'i#^«*^«*^^#^««^««^««^'i#^#

ALL WHO

Examine

Th,

Cyclone

Ma^zJne
Camera

■J

■re amazed at its simplicity rnd the beauty of its pict res.
The finest pictures can come only from glass plates. ^
Glass plates used and carried as easily as a roll of film, T,
but with better results, is uhat the Cyclone does. It's ^
our Ideal, and will be yours if you investigate its merits.

Price, 56 to $10.

S^nil f.jr fine iUu!itratcd Catalogue, mailed on request.

WESTERN CAMERA MFD. CO., U2 Wabash Ave.. Chicago. III.

• ■«r#^^fe#i^fe;*Sl6^'fer»b"fer#5^fe:#!>'fer»S-i^f*i>y;#i^W»t«

KID GLOVES

"CEXTEMERI" aro the

bt'.'^t. HoUl i.i T>iinci])alfitieB.
Cat.iloijUGs frt'C.
P. CENTEMERI & CO., 91l Broadway. N. Y.

ORMOND FOLDING CYCLE CAMERA

' DELIVERED FREE TO ANY PART OF THE U. S, FOR ^ ~

CVCRV ONE FULLY GUARANTEED.

iLLusTHATED SWEET, WALLACH 4. CO.

I CATALOGUE FREE fl* w*»a3« *wi oi" » CHtCAGO. iL

HOTOGRAPHERS

SEND SIZE OF PLATE
>^ ANDI54F0R
SAMPLE.

- UT

HANDLES

ON YOUR

PLATES

CLAW

PLATE HANDLE

COMPANY

.^^

#.^

CIRCULAR

, FREE

AT YOUR

DEALERS

-IR DIRECT.

BAY CITY
MICH.

Please mention McClu

AMERICAWS DEMAMD THK

Tlio I'oro h!i8 all ndjuslmenta for hand or tripod work.
Fitted with Rochesirr Sym metrical Lf lis and Unlcum Shutter.
All NlEPM (>r rorelfrn-nnde Plnten can be uaed in. the

Foco, by means of intorchaugeablL' holders.

maikd on appUcatwn. rnCC, »i> dHO UpWflraS.

Rochester Catnera k Supply Co. At South St., Rochester. N. Y.

Uses Both Glass Plates aod Daylight Loading FUid.

The Premo la the Ideal camera for tourists. Many styles
of Frcmo Cameras have long bellows extension, eoabUng objects at
a (freat distance to be photof^aphed full of detail.

Travelers on the Continent are delifhted to find that
Prcrno Cameras can he fitted with holderi. in which the odd
European sired plitcs can l>e use 1, Send for cataU)Que^

Price, $10.00 and Upwards.
ROCHESTER OPTICAL CO., 41 South St., Rochesler, N. Y.

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MdJLUHlG'ti MAUAZlIflG.

THE DAYLiaHT

........LOADIHB

CAMERAS

The only one In the world that loads 19 grlAM plates in daylight. Iioads
18 to 36 films in dayllgrht an<l pennitii the remoTsd of any exposure at will.
It can also be used as an ordinary naagasine oauxera, with any make of plates.

XO DARK BOOM OB BEI.OADING APPABATUS BBQUIBED.
In fact, it simply separates the dragrrery ft^m the fascinating^ part of
photography. Bleg^antly finished in black seal grain and oxidised copper.

them

For making: 31^ z 4% photos $8.00. For 4x5 slse $10.00
Onr Interchang:eable Magazine fits all folding^ cameras* translbrmias
m into Magazine Cameras loading^ in daylight. Price fO.OO.

Special Achromatic I^ns.

BENNETT D. STRAIGHT & CO.. Mfrs., champiain eidg.. Chicago

Here's What You're Looking For !

No more time wasted mornings hunting for
vour siiavlnff outfit. Our handy device
bears out the old ssying :

*'A Place for Everything and Everything in its Place." :

The Cardinal

Shaving
Cabinet

made In Oolden Oak or
Mahoffany flnlah, Is 14 In.
hlcrh by 12 In. wide and hanfni
on the wall or back of door
always ready for use. Bevel
French Plate Mirror In front
of door for use while aharlnflr, or as a dresein? mirror.

|Njf Ton can set the Cabinet, a €ake of WIlllaMii* Shavian
aoam Torrey Bnsor Strop, Hard Rabber Sbavlac Braab*
Pom^laln Sbavinc Mas, Witch Hasel LaTeader Oolocae
aad a Cake of Magnesia—

The Complete OutHt, $6.50 "SST

Cabinet without Oatlt, $4.ft0, Ezpreas Paid.

It Saves In Delays Its Cost Many Times Over.

Cabinet Is made to keep everythlncr dust proof. Think
of It! Here Is a new convenience you can't afford to be
without Remit or write for farther particulars to

THE CARDINAL CABINET CO..

ST. LOUIS, MO.

11 STORE FIXTURES.

If you want something out of the ordinary in
store, office or bank fixtures, write us ; let us
send you designs. Our designs are original, and
we submit them free. We compete with anyone
on prices, yet we give you a style, a uniqueness
that others cannot furnish. Our designs arc
now found in many of the largest and finest
stores in the country. East and West; yet we give
to the small buyer just as careful attention as to
the large buyer. Tell us what you want.

RACINE FinURE CO., RaeiiM, Wis.

A $25.00 MAUSER RIFLE FOR ONLY $10.00

THE LITTLE BI« OriV.

Shoots a ball small eMMgli for a
squirrel, big eoottgh for a bear.

the (genuine s-shot repeating Spanish Mausers captured from the Sjwnlsh at Santiago. Our «K«nt ha*
pur.hdscl ih. entire lot, nith inilllonN of (.artri.iKC-. .»» a price which enal.lcs us to make this low offer. For^lO •«
ish MaiiMr rlllf»». In «-o«iplete ctcrvlcrabU condition, uith trraluating al^liu and clennlns r<xis. These guns have *U been
cleaned and ex.-iiiiined at our etjicnse and are Kuaranleed. I nese are of iiio-lern patt.rn and improvement^ with the popular sJidto); breech-
block action .uitoiiKiti. >h.ll .icctmi: An.l loadini:. Ma|fa/ine holds 5 cartridK'cs. Ue o*n these ijruns at the lowest possible Agure. and we are olfrrinK
them to the nut. lie .u a price l<lov» what the C.oNcrnment were asking. They i^nnot be ohtaint-d now from any other source. The giins we offer are <^tbe
desirable 7 ndlliMietrc and 7.6s millimetre < alil.re. and wci^h from ? to » pounds; length of barrel, ^s inches. Ammnnltlon for these riA«s U made b^
the manufacturers in this country. Con>equenll> a supplv of ammunition can always t>e secured. \S c have an almost inexhaustible stock of captured
• i>.i,in>j low rates. With each gun we send a supply of cartridges. The rifle is convenientlv adapted to both lar^e and

__ _ k:s not tear small game; it goes with such a tcrriHc force (^.4.., feet to the second) Ui.it it pierces the skull of a bear or
and traverses the entire length of his body. By the use of the improved smokeless cartridges, is more effective for large game than the old «» calibre

- - THE MAUSER W"'

ammunition which we supply at astom
small game; the ball. l>eing small

buffalo and traverses the entire length of his body. By the use of the impr . ^ . 1..." ■ v .^. — ^^ „ .

SOME THINGS THE MAUSER WILL DO: {yS;ft?U'.':J'U^^:Sir•lV?5^,„•;,!^^^^^^^^

tkronc

It is acr urate and tni"

.ong-rangc sights you can shoot two miles.

Jj;^;^'"!? to the highest degree ; at too yards, in skilled hands.

without using graduated sls^

can hit a penny. THE PR* ^.-n 01 uic»«; •"•«-- -m^^ —-——-, ■^- -- — r^r'i:- — ». ' •« " i: — • i. .— -r -. ."t .- ..-v. -,t 7-

stock FOR $10. an I on receipt of Sa.«;o. as CTidence of good faith, we will -ship th- rifle by express, with loaded smokeless powder-b«Jl cartridges, ready
for immediate us" and trust to your honor to pay tne balance. %n.tp and exne^^ --harges, when you receive it ar.d know it to be as teiwesented andjust what
you want. Could anything be more fair? WE WARRANT KTER Y GUN to be senrireable and in gcod condition and fust as rmesented or n(«cy
refunded. This is a rare chance to get an excellent rifle at less thin one half price and at the same time have a valuable MMlTenlr rf tM» AmbI*Ii wnr,
which will increase In value as years roll by. You can easily d'^uble your mon'-v on these rifles if yon want to sell Customers who have purrhaacd Man^ei
rifles report that th-y are highly pleased with their good oualities. WH \T A CUSTOMER SAYS: Til* Manaer rlB» »nr«k«M4 •€ JM ■• •Xi Hf k^
It la n WMiderftil snni tke ■••t»«werftil nnd neeumtc aliAote* I erer mw. Hare akot tkrMicli M laekes of i«IM kav4 k&«6

WAttd Anil ♦■ Wyj^M^fc T| t^jfcWaui Af 1 1 |M ^># 0n€U

The M \user islflie best and most famous rifle Hi the world. It •iJn»kinr W«t"fy »t«>ie»cnt with the Boers in South M^ .^rcnr tportaoiAa •»d JSBfy
iourenlr collector wants one of those rUtes. Addrtts KISTLAUD BBOA. A OO., Deyt. K, tM BBOAHWATTMSW TOBK.

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MeCLURBTS MAGAZINE,

It Will PAY YOU to INVESTIGATE

THE POLIOES OF THE

Ficific

Solid
Secure
Prog REVIVE'

Guaranteed Cash Values

Greater than those of any other G)mpany

WE GUARANTEE WHAT OTHERS

ESTIMATE

Postal Card will bring you Full Information

MANN & TOWNSLEY charles w. townsley

J74 BROADWAY ^ WILLIAM B. MANN

NEW YORK General Agents

WALTER E. BROWN, Special Representative

Pleasr inrniion McClures when you write to advertisers.
85

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MeCLUBE'^ MAOAZJNK.

Ride

in a

Riker

The perfect
aiitoniobile.

Every jolt and jar is absorbed by a
flexible frame. The motor and running
gear beinj^ attached to this frame, vibra-
tion is entirely prevented. Tlic running
gear of a

Rilcer

Electric Vehicle

is constructed upon an entirely new
principle. The vehicle is under perfect
control, it being imposiiible for rut or
stone to change the course. A Ride in a
Riker is the most convincing proof of
its perfection, speed and beauty.

If yon will tell ufl whether you wnnt a car-
riage for plpauure or a wagon fur buninesH
wo will roail you a cataloBue accnrately
describiDg them ju pictures and wurda.

BUY A.

IBANNER

GUARANTEED
» K SELF OFEHATI\G
^HON ALL ROADS ,u
^ ) BURNS

^lOOSE CARBIDE

EXAMIME, IT
BETORE BOYING

•'9'jy.

THE nxmtsfA
MFC, ca

i24?

1EN NOT KEPT BY D£ALER5,\^1LL B£ SSfti
LCHARGE^ PRmiP ON RECEIPT OF PKICE.

^ A\OTOR "
CAr^lAGES

>^-fi.T

P? ^ ^

JOYS OF THE SEASOX.

1 ,^r,. ^ . "''''°^ carnage. Thb WrNTON embodi« Hi d^
of service ' ''^'^^*^" *^ ^ practical success under all^coSdiS

m'M''?!^' '*^* r'',.P'^"'\''5'l ^'"'!'«'n«rs )s the best possible recaoi'
rn.-ndatl..n. Waftinij list is tfcttir.ff longer. tVHtV^rclil^

TheWinfoa Motor Carriage Co., CleveUum, OWO.

Eastern Departruct^t. im Broadway, ^v'ew York.

Please mention McClure's when you write to advertisen,

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McCLUBE'a MAQAZnm.

Please mention McC1ure*B when you write to advertisen.

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McCLURE'S MAGAZINE.

' TAe ComtHc Fiytr; C.>f>yright, /Sixf, by the '' Locotuobiie'^ Company c/ Anufua.
Please mrntion McCIure'* when you write to ad^crtlser$.

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WOODS

ELECTRIC

ROAD WAGON

The lightest, smartest looking and most graceful
Automobile ever built. Is a regular three-quarter
size, piano box, sidebar buggy with 32-inch wheels,
60-inch box and 36-inch seat ; i^-inch hard rub-
ber tires. Weight complete, 900 pounds. Speed,
12 miles per hour. Mileage capacity on one charge of the batteries, 25 miles. Will climb
a 12 per cent, grade Painted to suit purchaser. Trimmed in whipcord, dark cloth or
leather, as desired. Electric lights and bell. Unexcelled for reliability, ease of manage-
ment and economy. No complicated machinery, noise or jar. Always ready for immediate
service. PROMPT DELIVERY.

On request we will send our illustrated Catalogue in colors showing many designs of Woods Carriages — all
manufactured by our own skilled workmen under one roof. We equip Private or Public Stables completely.

WOODS v^H^^L^B COMPANY

NEW YORK, 44th St. and Vanderbilt Ave.

CHICAGO, 545-549 Wabash Avenue

f^lNir^ 1^1 TTT ^^^ about Electric Automobiles, their care, construction and operation, in a
nil>LI KJU 1 book published by Herberts. Stone & Co., Chicago. $1.25.

Price, $1,5W- I'j 1*

Auto-
mobiles

for

Pleasure

Gasoline
System

THE HAYNES APPERSON CO.

KOKOMO, IND., U. S. A.

THB OLDEST MANUFACTURERS IN AMERICA

Seven years* actual experience in this line will
save our customers money. V^rite us before buying
experiments. Our Carriages are substantially built,
easily managed, will run any speed, good hill climbers.
Anyone can use them.

Pleasure Auto-
mob Hen rang-
ing in priert
frotn $ 1,000
to $1,800

Booklet describ-
ing our Gasoline
system, 10 cents

Deseriptlue
Qinular Fm

Price, $l,*iOO-No Diso^onts.

Please mention McClurc's when you write to advertisers,

THF. \\Vl\ is the leadin/f journal in the carriage and auto-
mobile tf,ide and j^ives complete information on Automobiles
Doij'i Ihiv an Automobile until you have read and studied <|
IHRHrU. K.^iablished 47 years. ;;

Pidilished monthly at $2.<x> a year ; single copies at news- ^
stands, .'s tents.

In order that rveryl>ody may have an opportunity to
examine IMF Hl'r., \vc will send it for three month<i for
25 cents to anvoiir mentioning McCi.I'Ke's.

TRADE NEWS PUBLISHINQ CO., Rooa S, U Morray St., New York |

»»»»»»»%%»%»»%%»%%%%>%»»%%%%%%%^»%>%%%%%%>%

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MeCLUBE'S MAGAZINE.

1^-

"^M))u).

*^^.

The cycling season of 1900 begins with
Hartford Tires more popular than ever.
There are reasons for this popularity.

HARTFORD SINGLE TUBE TIRES

are and have always been made regardless of
any expense that could help to make them
better. Ihey cost more than other tires, but
they are worth more, and they are the
most economical in the end.

If you insist, you can have them on any
high grade wheel without extra cost to you.

Don't be induced to accept substitutes on
the statement that they are ** just as good as

Harifords."

If HartfordS were not the Standard Single
Tube Tires and known to be the best, they
would not be quoted in the comparison.

Remember, the better the tire, the easier
the wheel will run.

$1,000 IN CASH PRIZES

will be offered by us during the season of Iqoo.
The competition is open to all bicyclists,
both men and women.

Write for Prlze Competition Booklet, en-
closing this advertisement and one two-cent
stamp.

HARTFORD RUBBER WORKS CO.,
HARTFORD, CONU.

OTHERS ARE NO

MARKER

Golf Goods

FORK SPLICED CLUBS

SOCKET CLUBS.

EVERYTHING PERTAINING
TO GOLF,

^•^<H^I TO GOLF,

I 'l^^SSi^p^v-. W»'i t p fo r Cf 1 1 ci I o 0 11

nliof) l<)

be^vJinners bv

John D.Dunn

Tiui BRiDonmRi riiN

^O EBTEKPKUllia BBS, In any Metlon, w olhr Asplndld appar*
tiinlty to make money by the manofMiar* and mJo of an Mtiole
of oalvenwl and enonnooa oonsoaptlen. Oar elreolar, mailed
firee, telle a plain, atimlgbtfenrard etorj. AddrBaa,

QIRARD MPQ. CO., 1130

St..

jgLEARING

finOO«Sl*doT.r mu.t^'h^SlI 75

U W UV SArRIPlCED AT ONCK ' ■« —

L SACBIFICED AT ONCK

^!uT7!7ll4KU whe«lt, crood as |Q Tfl f * fl

new, over 5) makes nn I moJeU u 'W | U

- I|TO»20

ONE^ON

Swell lOCO Models,!

mrORi: flVKESkT.

CfiAC'E GLTAiA-VTirii.

HIP TO ANY

LL AND TKIALBIK
One RIDER ACENT In carh towa can
'obtain KlttK l>Kof isiinilo whoel to Hde
and exl.ibit. Write for ART CATALOOUi;
BAROAIN I.IST AND OUR SPKCIlt Om*.

MEAD CYCLE CO, Bept.mN CMcago.

Examine the

Canfield

Coaster

Brake

carefully and you
will find It to be the
simplest, neatest,
strongest and most
efficient. Best in-
side. Best outside.
Fltsanyhub. Any-
one can apply it.
Booklet free. Ad-
dress
CANFIELD BRAKE CO ,
Corning, N. Y., U. S. A.

Pleaie mention McClure'a when you write to advertiien.
90

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jncLijuujojua m^itjauaijyija.

For Emergencies like this a

FOREHAND "PenecUon
REVOLVER

•CNO
FOR OUR
CATALOOUe

A
FOREHAND

"PorfBOtlon*
REVOLVER

is made of the best materials by the most skilled workmen. It's
handsome and serviceable It's easily cleaned and kept in order. It
will only go off when you want it to. It CAN'T before, as it has an auto-
matic hammer block and prsitive cylinder stop. The price from your dealer or from
us is 34- 50. Our beautiful catalogue o' other revolvers and guns sent on request.

FOREHAND ARMS OO,

Woroasior, Massm, Um Sm Am

Pleue mentioo McQure't when you write to advertisen.
91

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McCLURirS MAGAZINE.

Dust or mud in bicycle gear causes loss of time
and money for repairs. As your watch-case saves
the watch.

The Frost
Gear Case

Protects wearing parts from grit and your clothes from
grease. Twenty-four hundred miles without oil or
attention to chain, its record. Write for our booklet,
'* Bicycle Breathing." and read what professionals say
of the celebrated Frost Gear Case in rain and dust.
Name your wheel when writing for price of gear case.

UNIVERSAL GEAR CASE WORKS
6ao South Meridian St., Indlanapoiit, lad.

TNE UniE DCTECTIVE

POCKET SEARCH UQMT.

The most useful and durable elec-
tric liKlit ever made. For policemen,
night watchmen, at home or in btttt-
nrss. in case of burglar it is better than a Kun. Price, preoud.
M.OO. *^

We make evcrythlne electrical. SpecUl %i3mo Belt with Siispensorr.
ia.So. None Ixttcr made. f6.oo BK ycle Lanip, 12.75. AJ*« Motor, Si.<».
Send quick. Catalogue free, illustrated.
CLEVELAND SEARCH L1«IIT CO., CleTelM4. Olil«, T.A. A.

. far Bicycles
\ « ioi* Carriages

1 for Autoinahiics

1 Send for booklet

The American Duoiop Tire Cn^

'"**"' Belleville. N. J. Chicago, fl I

'Mina('^"

The

New
Tire

L,attina Cellular Tire

ends all tire trouble. Harks tbe besfanlos
of a new era Id wbeeling. Cannot be paDo»
turoil. Requires no Intiatlon. Alwars tb«
eame. Possesses the blgbest degree of rcatl»
lency. Hmallnr tban pneumatic, lighter
than a solid tire, nioredurable and cheaper
than either. Mivde for every kind of wbe«l
from a ttlrvcle lo an automobile^
TlIK Rl nit FU TIRE CO.. PM1ft..Pa.
Siispl> ■« fthviwii ttn<l contr«et* nndeeair t>r

Please mention McClurcs when you write to advertisers.
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McCLURE'S MAGAZINE.

THAT 18 THE

O.K. 1900

Acetylene Gas Lamp,
and it /j"O.K." The
disadvantages of heavy
weight and cumber-
some size overcome.
Best material and
workmanship and all
the latest improve-
ments in gas lamps.
Reversible bracket, al-
lowing change in ele-
vation of four inches.
No other lam p has this.
If your dealer doesn't
carry it we send, ex-
press prepaid, lo any
point in the U. S. for
$2.50. Descriptive
booklet free.

SEAL LOCK CO.

m Wtshlastoo St.
Chlca£o, HI.

Did You Ever Puncture
a Tire and Walk
Home?

You Never Will
If You
Own a

SKINNER Automatic Pump.

It Inflates the tire while you ride. It does not dlefl^ure the
wheeL It wUl fit any wheel. It makes pumplnflr easy and is
always ready. It can bn thrown out of gear and left on wheel.
It can be instantly detached and placed in Tool basr if desired.
It weighs six oanccs and costs imt 98. OO, delivered to
any point In the U. S. Write for descriptive booklet.

SKINNER MFQ. CO., 206 Mechanic St., Jackson, Mich.

please mention McClure's when you write to advertisen.
93

Not How Much You Pay
But What it Costs!

Q & J Tires may cost most in the
beginning, but cost nothing for repairs.

Other Tires may cost less in the be-
ginning and prove most expensive in-
the end.

Our catalog explains it all.

G & J TIRE CO.,

INDIANAPOLIS.

IHE MORROW

O COASTER-HUB
BRAKE

FITS ANY BICYCLE

WITH THIS YOU

RIDE 50 MILES

BUT PEDAL ONLY 35
Wheel Always Under Control

Thousands in use.

Coast with your feet on the
pedals.

A slight back pressure applies
the brake.

No continuous strain on the
leg muscles after brake is ap-
plied.

You can coast down every little
decline without removine
your feet from the pedals.

Adds loo per cent, to the pleas-
ures of cycling.

Send for printed matter.

EaiPSE BICYCLE CO.,

Eclipse Acetylene
OasLamp.

Superior to any yet
shown. Best gener-
ator made. Fool
proof— Simplv taa'l
" ut of orrfe"

'illustrated pamphlet
giving detailed information of
both the Brake and the Lamp-
free on request.

Box P. Elmira, N. Y.

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MeCLUBE'S MAGAZINE.

101,000
CRESCENT BICYCLES

were sold in 1899 — more
than any other wheel — a
tribute to Crescent popu-
larity. Why buy any other
wheel when you can get a
Crescent for the same
money?

The perfection in bicycle construction is demonstrated in the
smooth-running qualities of the Crescent Bevcl-Gear Chainlcss.

Bevel Gear Chainless Models $60

Adults' Chain Models $25 $26 $30 $35
Boys* and Girls' Models $25

Send for Crescent Catalogue

THE CRESCENT BICYCLE

"501, Wells Street, .Chicago ; 36 Warren Street, Nejf York

Please meoUoa McCIure's when you write to adverttaen.
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McCLURE'S MAGAZINE.

THE COLUMBIA
BEVEL=GEAR CHAINLESS

has won a leading place among bicycles because it meets
every requirement of the cyclist* It is always ready to
ride* The adjustment is peculiarly simple, direct and
effective* There is nothing to entangle or soil the skirt*
The mechanism is dirt-proof and weather-proof, and
does not deteriorate with use* The transmission of power
IS direct, utilising every ounce of driving force expended*
It is the easiest running, the most practical and most
trustworthy bicycle* Price $75*

COLUMBIA, HARTFORD, STORMER
and PENNANT CHAIN WHEELS

embody every Improvemeot possible (o the cbaia type. Prices: $50. $3S. $30, $25.

THE COLUMBIA COASTER BRAKE is simple and sure in action
and saves fully one-third of the pedaling necessary in ordinary riding.
An hour's practice will bring any one to a realization of its merits as a
labor-saving device. Price $5.00 when ordered with a new machine.
Applicable to both Cbainless and Chain Models.

See Columbia and Stormer Catalogues,

PImm mention McClart'e when ]roa write to adverttien.
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McCLURE'8 MAGAZINE.

hoenix Bicycles ^ ^

ONLY ONE GRADE BUILT BUT THAT-THE BEST

FOR THE PAST TVELVE YEARS PHOENIX
BICYCLES HAVE BEEN MANUFACTURED AND
THE 1900 PATTERNS ARE FAR SUPERIOR TO
ANYTHING PREVIOUSLY OFFERED Jl Jl jl ^

"They Stand the Racket"

THE PRICE IS

$40.00

MONARCH HEADQUARTERS, '-*''^n,*^Tarr^1't':Te^yor*?*'**"

ELEdmc

Atlapttd to th9 Quick aad Ecoaomical DeUvcry of Light

Merchaadlae.

Top Removable : Rear Seat Aif/uMtable,

A Profitable Proposition for Buslaess or Phaaure.

Eighteen Models— Guaranteed.
Catalogue mailed for t-mo two^ent stamps.

WAVERLEY FACTORY, Indianapolis, Inc.. U. 8. A.
Naw York Office, 941 BIgbth Avenue,

SAVE YOUR STRENGTH

You can cover the same
ground with less energy
by using the

CLIPPER cH^SSSSs

The secret is in the Bevel-
Gear. Price, $60 and $73.

Chain Wheels, $50 and %¥k

For Catalogue, address
the Rambler ofRce, North
Franklin Street and Insti-
tute Place, Chicago, lU.

Please mention McClure's when you write to advertiierB.

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They are the Standard Acetylene
Gas Cycle Lamps, and their great
success is due to the patented system
of gas generation which secures a
steady bright white light.

Your dealer will sell them to you
for $3.00 each, or we will send them
to you express prepaid at this price.

Our booklet — Solar System — sent
free upon application.
THE BADGER BRASS MFG. CO.

KENOSHA, WISCONSIIf.

Please mention !^fcClure*8 when you write to advertisers.
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MeCLUBE'S MAOAZINB,

^QmmKW^ymS'^----^^^

BOSTON > NEW YORK

Prices I ^^"^"^' ^°^ ^«" ^^ Women, $75.00
) Chain, for Men and Women, - 55.00

KNOWING CYCLISTS

r^::^, will not ride without a
reliable '' mile-teller/

THE VEEDER MFO. CO., Hartford, Conn.
flUkan tf CyclMNtcra, Odoacten, Cocatlaf /lUcblMs and Flie CosHagt

Please mention McClure** when yoa write to advertisers
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McCJLURE'8 MAGAZINE.

ARNICA

TOOTH SOAP

Jahon de Arnica*

Savoa Dentifrice I>* Arnica.

Arnica Zahn Seife,

The Only International Dentifrice.

The Standard for 30 years.

Preeerree and whitens the teeth, etrengtheiiA the
irums— «weetenfi the breatti.

25c at All Drtig^tsts.
C. H. STRONG & CO., Props., CHICAGO, U. S. A.

A lEW AID EFFECTIVE CURE '^'S^

Thia iottmincDt la IHxi iochM in aixa and eonalcta of a StMl Crlindn

«1 Cjrlii
atMi <

oo which la pUewl • pollahiof clolh. held by ni«k»l uU

A bottia of lotion for curing the aof t corn, iofatber with an extra eloth, I

" " • " witli tbla iBntrMMeat |

ial«tloa of «allo«9 f

Saliafaction guarantaad. \

Mailed on receipt of 85 cents.

J. F. ALLISON, Mtlg. Toilet Artlelee, RsrERBNct, America
S4 A Wakasli ATeave, Ckieaco, III. National Bank.

pMkad Intide each cylinder. Pollahlas wltk
* caallT reaaovee e«ma avd preveato aeeaiaa
^ aatteMi keeping the akin dean and healthy. Satl

■ T ▼ ▼ ▼ <r ▼ ▼•^

A SHELF FOR YOUR

I p^Q O TheB.B. Chair has two Of
■■t\JO 1 them for rest and comfort.

Write, C. 5. BEEBB, 728 Lake Ave., Racine, Wit.

ONE OF TH E URGEST AGENCY
CONCERNS IN THE COUN-
TRY offeriDK a PATIHO
and PERMANENT oppor-
tnnltj to a«tlTe men de-
sires to place additional

men in every state of the

idS-cent stamp

fun

Union. SendS-cent stamja
for book containing full

particulars. State your name, address, age

and present oocnpatlon.

SuWHcst to VKe
Qfli^Jjfte Cup.

^;j

Po ^\ u

Foo"3L Co5-yee

10 *3^€tu^ an^ note
tKe Zi^^etertce in

HEALTH

BICYCLES,

Poatoffloe Box 802, Chloaso, III.

FOR EVERYBODY.
' NO MONEY IN ADVANCE.

Shipped direct to anyone and guaranteed as represented
or money refunded. Sare aaents large proflte and vet a
~ ^wheel at rock bottom wholesale
■price. Our Arllact«a Medel K Is
the greatest bartrain
.erer offered; in lotM of
Aone or more at $|4.SS
l$IS-ArltagtsB"$li.5t
' %4B $18.5t
SM **Oskwtsd*' S2l.5t

ee.d wheel. |12.M,Sll.Mt «•.•• Btrtop^ WkaebO nil
the ArUngton A Oalcwoodai-e Strictly high gnMle# I aUU
•lid the best that can be made. Thoroughly tested ami
ftilly guaranteed. Orer 100,000 riders can testify to their
superior quality, style, ennstructinn and worlonanshlp.
Illustrated catalog free. CASH BUYERS* UNIOIi«
16S W. Tan Bnren St^ B-164, Cbloago, Ills.

HOW TO DECORATE AMD <f
= FURNISH YOUR ROOM. TL

Send a list of articles you now hare in any one room with rough diagram showing windows and doors, stating whether windows open on
street, or front or back yards, and ear expert deeorator will describe how to rearrange and furnish your room artUUeally— aaC
expeaaivcly— provided you send 01.00 for a year's supecrlption to Keith's Home Builder. This magaxine contains every aaoath piaas far
tea or more artistic hoMea, besides much valuable up-to-date matter on inside fumlahlngs. This offer limited to Se days from May Ist.
Wm s/* KEITH, A^ohUmai, Pmhilmhmr, »89 lAtn^ber Baoehange, Minneapoiis, Jf inn.

Uwanta &rjj: Mattress S6.50

If waatcd la two pleees. like eat. #7. Freight prepaid to all ooints north of the south

line of Tenneaeee and east of the Misponri River and of a line drawn directly souUi from

Kansas City. Part of the freight paid to more distant points.

AhMlnte Perfeetlaa. As soft as a MO hair mattress and to be preferred, beoaoee It

I B«?ar packs. Is cleaner, moresanitary and never attracts moths. Guaranteed to last a lifetime without making over. They may

be retamed after thirty days' trial at our aocpenaa, if not positively the best mattress that money can buy, and your money will be

hMtaatly and eheerfnlfj refunded.

I PROM PACTORY TO OUSTIIMEK. The Uwaata Mattrcea can be had only of as. If sold by retaHars, the prioe would

be froa $12 to $1& What Is Oattaa Dowaf It Is the saow-white selected cotton fresh from the fields. In orialnal bales, made into

I' Ootton Down by being put through our patented process until it Is almost as fluffy as feathers. Some oall it '*(elt" when thus
treated and it Is undoubtedly the best mattress material known to the trade. In ordering give the width of your bed. meaeoring
from the lasideaf the side rails. All mattresses are 6 feet S Inches long.

rORT '^nriLTNB rURNlXURB COMPILNT, IPort '^lirayiie, lAdlaaa.
Also maaaCaetniars of Sideboards, Extension Tables and Dlning-Room Ohairs. tiead fsr OaCalecae.

1 Also mi

Meaac mention McClure'a when you wntc to adveruaos.
99

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MeCLURE'8 MAGAZINE.

AMERICAN
RAILROADS.

THEIR RELATIOTJ TO
COMMERCIAL, INDUSTRIAL AND
AGRICULTURAL INTERESTS,

" Reads like a Romance."

— LoiiisvilU Courier -Journal.

*' Should be read in all our higher public schools.**

— Criterion, New V'ork.

** Perhaps the most important address before the Inter-
national Commercial Congress at Philadelphia."
— 7'/te Outlook, New York.

** One of the most instructive and important made
before the Commercial Congress."

— Evnuug Star, Philadelphia.

" A good lesson to teach a Commercial Congress."

^Plaitidealer^ Cleveland. O.

'* It shows that the thoughts of the people are widen-
ing." — Inter-Ocean, Chicago.

'* No more significant or impressive estimate of the
commercial triumph of the United States than is
contained in this address."

— Home Journal, New York.

Sent free, post-paid, to any address in the worM on receipt of a twtw
cent stamp. Address Room No. 373, tirand (.'entral Station. New Vock

The Paris Exposition

Opened April 14

THE RUSH

FOR ACCOMMODATIONS 15 NOW ON

We have expended thousands of dollars to engage L

Berths on Popular Steamers and Sftlllng Dates aod I

Baropesn Hotels, which we are Allotting Daily in cooncctioa
with our Select Escorted Tours, including not otily the Farts
Bzposltloa, but

THE OBERAMMERGAU PASSION PLAY

THE RHINE, SWITZERLAND, AND ITALY

THE LANDS OF SCOTT AND SHAKESPEARE

Also Several Delightful Summer Cruises
By Our Palatial, Specially Chartered Steam- Yacht

"ARGONAUT"

(S8S4 toi», 4000 horse-power, length 3SS feet)
Visiting

NORWAY AND THE NORTH CAPE

" THE LAND OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN **

ST. PETERSBURG AND MOSCOW

Sailing from Hull, Englatid, in connection with the Iea4«ac
transatlantic steamers.

OUR PRICES niaUDE ALL DfODBIITAL

expehses as specifibd

Manv intending visitors will be absolutely unable \m
steamsnip and hotel accommodations, because they delay ia
applying. Several of our sailinK' are already ftill.

Write to-day for Illustrated Piogfai, oamiog Taar or
Cruise you wish to uke.

TNE EUIOPEAI TOOIIST MHMIT

i is6 FHtli Avenuo. New York

Please mention McClure's when you write to advertiaera.

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MvCLURErS MAGAZINE,

SWISS GUIDES,

Canadian Pacific Railway Tickets the wonders of

brought from Switzerland for
purpose, will show holders of

the

BANFF in the Canadian Rockies
LAKES IN THE CLOUDS

GLACIERS OF THE 8ELKIRKS on

CANADIAN PACIFIC RAILWAY

THE

IHRKE SISIKRS IN IHE CANADIAN KOCKIFS.

Address

Hew York

PhiUdelphla

Baltimore

Washlnrton

Boston

Baffalo

Detroit

Chlcagro

any tJi^etit of the Company for iHustrated pamphlets^ mentioning McC LUKE'S in 7vritini:.

351 Broadway E. V. Skinner Minneapolis

6ao Chestnut Street H. McMurtHe St, Paul

139 F.ast Baltimore Street C. G. Osbum Plttsbnr?

laaq Pennsylvania Avenue W. W. Mcrklc San FranclSCO

197 Washington Street H. J. Colvin Toronto

2;ii Main Street A, J, Shalman Montreal

II Pert Street, W. A. E. Edmonds Winnipeg

228 South Clark Strret J- F. Lee Vancouver

MQ South Third Street W. B. Chandler

o - ._ r, . .. ^•^, Thorn

400 Smtth Bmlding F. W. Sallshnry

^77 ^T.l^ket Street M. M. Stem

I kinjf Street. Kast A. H. Hotman

f .eneral Passensrer Ajrent C. E. E. UiSher

C.eneral Passrntrer Ak'** nt C.E.McPherson

Ass t (.encral Passenger Agt. E. J. Coyle

Please mention McClure't when you write lo adverttten.
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MeCLUBE'S MAGAZINE.

Upon the specially constructed and magrnificently appointed new

crTJW^a^JKt. **Prliixmlii Ulctoria tirt$e" («« feet uwa).

The unqualified success m^t with by the Annual Summer Cruises of the Hambure- Americaji I-lne to the
Land of the Midnight Sun and to the Orient has prompted this Company to extend this delightful feature

of it. services to a CRUISE AROUND THE WORLD

With this end in view, it has constructed a Twin-Screw Crulalnic Ta«ht, which is to be used exclu-
sively for these Cruises, and which by its size and especial arransremenU will add materially to the pleasures
of this delightful trip. She will carry first-clas<i passenRcrs only, and will not carry mails or cargo. The
state-rooms are equipped with everything to enhance comfort. Suites with private baths and toileta. state-
rooms for the occupancy of sinirle nisscngers, magnificent saloons, a gymnasium for exercise and recreation,
and a grand proinennde are provided.

TH E FI PST CPI II^P 'or which the followine Itlncran- is proposed: Irovi n«iiybiirK, Pept. «5 1 from €hpr-
IIIE« ni\01 \,^KUISi::, |M„,r». fl^nl. 2T.1900. niTcctronnectioocanbeinnde fro.n New Y..rkby the Hauiburkr-
AniericanLlne'sTwinScrew Express S.S. Atifriiste Victoria, leaving New York Sept. n. i90o,diie in ChtrtMiiirif Sept. » and in Ham
hursr Sept. »i. 1900. or liy any earlier stcnmerof this line. U*hnn, CSihrallar. Kle», «#iim. Alhrnv roo»t«nlln«ple, JaSh (Je™*^'*'").
Part M4 (Eirypt). Isaaltbi (Ujrypt). lUHbar fvisits to Pnona. Kh.iiidaUa. Karli Cave. Elepbanta I i.n. At Bombay passengert may
al-io leave the yacht and make the grand overland tour throiwh northern India, visiting Akmetfah i' Jfypore, Delhi. Afna, CrtL'Hfort,
I.uekMow, Benartx, Darfeelin/r, and Calmttn, where they will acain board the " Prinxe^Mn Victoi 1 I ui'^c." whif h vull have proccedefl
from BoMbtty, ria CsIohIm to Caleatta. After eml.arkjnir the passenger*, the cniisc will l»e continn' ! m Kintap«r«>. XaBlta. H<
(excursions lo Mmno and CantonX Skaiiriuil. !(an«ikl. Kakr 0>ere facilities will he provided to 1. 1^
to Hiogo, Osaka, S'ara, and Kioto). The steamer then proceeds to YakohaHa K in order not to ovet • . >

Jerswill be divided into four sections, in turn visitin? (0 F.uoshima and k'umakura : (2) A'
[»Molnln. thence to HllaandSan FranrUc*. where the American |)assen^rs will leave the yacht,
railmad transport-ition to ttieirhomcx.

Kintap«r«>. XaBlta, Haavkoaf

pas«;enKers Im an inland tour

I he facilities at hand the na^^

pa^seii>

ikI from wliere they will receive

THP SFCONn CDI IIQP «»->rtine from San Francisco on lanuary 76. 1901. will follow ahout the same Itinerafyas
I 1 1 £# •^L..WVf i^ VM WI^VJ I^C, ^j^y^ J,, reversed orxicr. For further pnrticulars. rates, etc.. address

Raiibiird-HiiKricaii tine, I5si5r8«'iir.-sf~'"""-

SAN FRANCISCO, 40f C«lifornUi St.

NEW YORK, 37 Broadway.
CHICAGO, 159 Randolph St.

of the

reat Igkes

Mackimc b Indian for "Island of |

Ciant Fairies" — one of them they say i

formed Arched Rock. Odd formations:

and historic interest make Mackinac th^

'Cem of the Inland Seas." Tickets. St. Loubto^

Detroit, throush Lake Huron to Mackinic.*|

through Lake Michigan to Chicago, back to^

St. Louis, cost S35.50. Our booklet suggests i

Summer Tours $20 to $ 1 00 i

^ _ illustrates them with beautiful engravings and gives valuable \

%*»^^ information to the contemplating summer vacationist. Bound
cloth — you will want to preserve it. It is free.

laraamaar ootinff, how mach ydta waat it to coat yo«, tie. Aak

> you hav* in mind. Wa will ekaarfially aaawar anv aii4 all
nenra of othart which will sava you aioaay and anhanca Hm

> fltiff*«t jnat tba trip yon have baan looking for. It will aoal yoa

TOUR DEPARTMENT. WABASH

I UNCOLN TRU5T BUILDINO. ST. LOUU.

RAILROAD.

McClnre't wlieii yoa write to
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McCLimsrS MAGAZINE.

YOUR VACATION
IN COLORADO

Builin^ton,
Route

O you quite realize that in all the world there is no scenery more gorgeous,
more majestic and awe-inspiring than that of Colorado ?

Couple this with these facts —

That the climate of Colorado is simpl}' delightful.
That the dry, pure air is wonderfully healthful and invigor-
ating; and that the hotels are of unusual excellence.
Then consider the question of spending your vacation
there this sununer.

Colorado is not fur away. The Burlington Route runs "one night on the road" trains from
both Chicago and St. Louis, and I hey arc luxuriously furnished. Sumptuous library smoking cars
and dining cars t/ /</ carte make the trip seem very short. Then during the summer months tourist
tickets are s(.»ld at greatly reduced rates, so the e.xpense is not great.

Let me send you niai)s, time tables, ticket rates ; and if you want to know more about the
country enclose six cents in postage for our book on Colorado. It is a I>eautiful work, of literary
excellence and profusely illustrated.

P. S. EUSTIS, General Passenger Agent, C. B. .V Q. R. R., Chicago, III.

Please mention McClure*s when you write to advertisers.
Ill

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McCLLIiE\, MAOAZtNE.

is the best Havana smoke that can be bought for less
than ten cents. And it costs only one cent. Its low
price is due to its small size (slender, and but 3^ inches
long), to a close margin of profit, and to an output of
millions a week. Send $1.00 for 100, prepaid. Mooey
back if you should not like them.

BENEDICT & COMPANY, 321 East First St^ Dayton, Ohio

DOUBLE DUTY
"POUCH "

This is the l>cst tuUacco pouch inailc (*.peLl.\l non-dcid cure-l
ful)t>cr) containing new feJturc^ that iip()f.(l at nm t- to evrrx
jiijKr ami cijfarette buiokcr. The separate po..ket. tnatl-' of a
sin^'lc ^^rin. ]u>h\s tnatchc*. «>r paper, kcepiriij tl.ciM alwavs
laiiily JiiJiJr\. -\thlelcs. Mcv tM/,!'.. snortMiien, > jrht\iii.'ti.
c.in<H.'iits and Mnokers i;encrally. vay lliey are tlir hcst an- 1
tu'ist < onujiiient [Hdahcs Ihcy ever used. Tiie inrncrs ar-- rr_'
taforccd, ensuring doiilile v.car. 1 lirec st-indard '.ii-rs ; Sn, 4,
€.«. : No. 5. 70c ; N". 6. goc. .-/.»* yaur dealer. If he i. inn. it
snp|)iy yoti one »ill Itc rii;iiled ni'i receipt uf pritc in nmnev
orrlcr ..r stamps.

"LOOK FOR THE POCKET

AQENTS EARN

$75.00 to $350.00
a month

SBLUNQ TRANSPARENT HANDLE KNIVES.

An article of ercrydaf use j every person a possible cs
tomer ; best of materials and workmanship. Name. addrr«
and emblems of societies and trades, photos, etc.. benotb
handles. ^

Many other advantages make large and rapid saks

WE WANT AGENTS EVERYWHERE-

G0od Commissiem Paiti.
Send 9-cent stamp for terms and circulais.

NOVELTY CUTLERY CO., 5 Rar SL, Cantonal

>j>

COSMIC UTILITY CO.

Dcpt. B. c8 CORTLANDT ST., NEW YORK

It needs no skill.
It needs no art,

A child can work
The hardest part
Lightning Freezer.

A beautiful child's book
hi three cok>rs free. Ad-
dress North Bros. Mfg. Co..
Philadelphia. Pa.

SURE PAYING BUSINESS. $125 \1^

GOLD, SILVER, NICKEL AND METAL PLATING. NEW QUICK PROCESS.

MR. REED MADE 088 FIRST • DATB. Mr. Cox wHtesi "Get all I can do. Plate jo sets a d^y.

money. So can you.
at home or travelinf takii

Eleij^nt business." Mr. Woodward earns $i7o a month. Ajtents all making money. So can you.

Genta or Ladle*. 70s esn poaltlvely aiake Oft t« 010 a day. at home or travelinf takinr
"" ^ " " L'nequalcd for plating watches. Jewelry, tableware, bicycles, all

Jenta •r Ladle*, yos ean positive]
and selling frof. Gray's Platers. L'nei,
Heavy plate. Warranted. Mo easerleaee aeeessary,

LET 18 START YOU IN rfrr---— " •

ordeis. i»»C
mc«al V"^

UK Ti-:\( II

TIIK \U>\ \

l.rc-nnlv «i
to 800 pii^

DE%l AM> i ui

insteatl of buyidii 11. .*.
they can do. Pcopli

SIN £88. We do plating ourselves.
All sizes complete.

18 START Vor IN

practical outfits, including all tools, lathes and materials.
■nteed. New aiodcni aioliiods.
^ <»r the art. fteniUk reelses. f^rmlaa aad trade acercU FRFE
OUR XEW DIPPING PROCESS. Quick. "
j«t brillnnt plate, ready to deliver. Thick plate every

Have experience.

Ready lor work when receJTcd.

MaBa&ctnre the only
0«sr>

rare dolly. NooollahliiK.irrhidlac or work neoessary.
PLATING IS ENORMOrM. Every

adc acercU FRFE. Pallare laaoaalhio.

Easy. Latest method. Goods dipped in mehed wrtal. take« wj
time. Gaaraatood O to 10 years. A boy plates frssi tOt

, ^ family, hotel and restaurant have goods plated

Too will not need to eanraso. Our agents have all the work

It's cheaper and better

ring it. You can hire boys cheap to do your plating, the same as we. and solicitors to gatfier
nt. Replating is honest and legitimate. Customers always delighted. WE A RE AN OLD
...,.< «.- , Know what is required. Our evstoaiers hare the

Reader^ ^r5js_s chance of a lifetime to go

DMt

»v. Address,

PLATING WORKS. 000 ELM ST., CINCINNATI. OHIC.

Please mention McClure's when you write to advertiser!.

112

work for a ftmalJ per ( _ _,

EST.iBLlHllED KIRM. Been in business for years.
' eoeflt of our rzpfrloBca.

WK AKF iU>l»ON81BLE and Gnaraatee ETcrytblnc.

■ Diisines<i for your, c If. WE START TOC Now Is the tlHio to atake aMaeyt

WRITE TO-DAT. Oar new Plan. Soasples, TesifaaonlaU aa^ CIreaUre FREE
T7rJt. Send us your .nddress any way. Address,
D. F. t)RAY A CO. ^'

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McCLURE*8 MAGAZINE,

FACTUKY UF THE MOBILK COMPANY OF AMERICA — VIKW LOOKING SOUTH.

THE LARGEST AUTOMOBILE FACTORY IN THE WORLD.

LOCATED AT KINGSLAND POINT ON THE FAMOUS PHILIPSE MANOR PROPERTY. THE WORK OF PREPARATION

REQUIRED TO BUILD SIX HUNDRED CARRIAGES PER MONTH. HISTORY OF THE DEVELOPMENT

OF THE HORSELESS CARRIAGE IN THE UNITED STATES.

THE first MOBILES were turned out at the factory of THE MOBILE COMPANY OF AMERICA at
Kinj^sland-Point-on-the-Hudson during the month of March. Nine months before, two hundred and
thirty-three acres of the famous Philipse Manor property, having nearly a mile of river frontage on the
Hudson and bisected by the New York Central Railway, was purchased with the idea of building there an auto-
mobile factory of such extent that the cost of production could be brought to the lowest possible figure. While
the factory was in course of erection, a corps of engineers and experts under the direction of the Messrs. Francis
and Freeland Stanley was engaged in strengthening and improving the carriage and perfecting methods and
special tools for the manufacture of the automobile carriage invented by the Messrs. Stanley.

The carriage thus perfected is to be known as the "WESTCHESTER COUNTY MODEL" to dis-
tinguish it from the carriages of the Stanley design turned out at the works in Massachusetts. It carries the very
latest improvements, and the orders for its construction have been to use only the finest quality of material and to
spare no pains to turn out the best of which the most skilful workmanship is capable. It is believed that the
" WESTCHESTER COUNTY MODEL." built at the factory of THE MOBILE COMPANY OF AMERICA,
is not excelled in strength, durability and excellence of design .

WHAT THE MOBILE IS.

The •' WESTCHESTER COUNTY MODEL." built by THE MOBILE COMPANY OF AMERICA,
is a horseless carnage weighing less than five hundred pounds, and costing but six hundred and fifty dollars.
Compactly built, with workmanship of the finest quality, capable of traveling twenty miles or more an hour or
reducing its speed so that it can take its place in the slowly moving and stopping line of travel in the great cities,
ft is operated by steam under circumstances which render it absolutely safe. More than a thousand Stanley
carriages of the Massachusetts model are now in public use. and there has never been a single boiler accident.
The fuel shuts off automatically when the steam reaches one hundred and sixty pounds. There is a safety-valve
which opens at one hundred and seventy pounds. Each boiler is wound with piano-wire and tested up to six
hundred pounds pressure, and is calculated to withstand a strain up to thirty-five hundred pounds pressure to the
square inch. Recently, as an experiment, a boiler was placed in an excavation, all valves closed, and the fire
turned on full head. A gauge carried off to a distance showed a steam pressure of twelve hundred pounds. Then
the steam began to drop, owing to a slight escape around the head of each of the copper tubes which compose
the boiler flues, and the pressure did not rise above the twelve hundred pounds indicated, until all the water was
exhausted. If the water supply should be exhausted in the boiler through oversight, the pressure drops and the
boiler ceases to produce steam, and with the decreased pressure of the steam the carriage comes to a stop and the
pump which supplies water ceases to work.

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MeCLURE'8 MAGAZINE,

NOKTH END MOBILB COMPANY S FACTOKV.

REGARDING THE PRICE OF $650.

The factory of the company has been fitted up with the most perfect machinery and special tools, all new
and of the latest design for manufacturing on the most extensive scale. In this way the company proposes lo
bring the price within the reach of every class. The charge
made is SIX HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS, payable
upon delivery at the Kingsland Point station of the New York
Central Railway. The claim made for THE MOBILE COM •
PANV'S "WESTCHESTER COUNTY MODEL" is that it
has no superior in the world's markets to-day.

THE mobile's RADIUS OF MOTION.

One of the improvements in the "WESTCHESTER
COUNTY MODEL" is a tank made from seamless copper
tubing, giving a fuel-storage capacity double that in the original
Stanley carriage, and equal to one hundred miles' run on smooth,
level roads. The MOBILE can travel over any class of road,
rough or smooth; but it must be distinctly understood that the
rougher the road the more fuel required.

THE MOBILE BUILT TO CLIMB THE STEEPEST HILL ROADS.

The question of steep grades is an annoying one for the
average horseless carriage. Not so for the MOBILE. It can climb on n fairly made road up a fourteen per
cent, grade (which is considered a pretty steep country road) at the rate of fifteen miles kn hour. During last
summer, Mr. Freeland O. Stanley and his wife ascended the long, steep road up Mount Washington in two
hours and twenty minutes.

IN THE MATTER OK COMFORT.

The MOBILE is perfectly smooth in operation. It moves without jar or vibration of any kind. When
in motion, the products of combustion are carried underneath the carriage, and neither heat nor odor of any kind
arises. The machinery is noiseless except in climbing stiff grades, when a siig^ht puffing is audible, but nothing
in the least degree objectionable.

There are more than a dozen improvements in the present carriage over the Stanley carriage as originally
put out. The first and most important of these is in the engine. The second relates to the gasoline tank which
now holds double the quantity of oil formerly carried. A seamless copper tube, very strong in construction and
elliptical in shape, secures this much to be desired result.

Another marked improvement is in the ball bearings of the engine, which are one-half inch instead of
three-eighths inch as formerly, experience showing that the increase of strength thus obtained is an item of
great importance.

The other improvements are largely in details of construction, no effort in time or money having been
spared to work out the most perfect results.

The question is frequently asked, "What guarantee is given to the intending purchaser?" To this we
reply that we guarantee our materials and workmanship to be the best that money can produce. Our factory,
however, is open to the inspection of intending purchasers, and it only needs a visit to the various departments to
satisfy an expert as to the excellence of the work being turned out.

The claims ^hich the MOBILE makes upon the public confidence may be briefly summed up as follows : —

First. The lig^htest, most compact, best designed and most perfect horseless carriage now
before the public.

Second. The highest class of materials and workmanship.

Third. Cost— but $650.

Fourth. Simplicity in construction, odorless when running, and almost noiseless.

Fifth. It can speed at a g^ait up to thirty miles per hour or follow the slowest truck.

Sixth. It is operated by steam, the standard power of the world, under perfect repilation
and test.

Seventh. Its fuel is inexpensive ; it carries a supply for fifty to one hundred miles, accordin|^
to the character of the road, which can be procured at any drug*store at slig^ht expense.

Eighth. It embraces all the latest improvements, and is confidently recommended as the
most perfect piece of machinery now on the market.

The probabilities are that not one automobile carnage will be built during the coming season wher^ ten
will be required to supply the demand. The impression prevails that there are a great number of horseless car-
riage factories being erected and that the output will be large during the coming season. The fact renmins that

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MeCLURBPS MAGAZINE,

there are not in operation in the United States at this time factories capable of turning out twenty machines a
day other than the Stanley carriage. After three years of experiment on the part of the Messrs. Stanley
and nine months spent on the construction of a factory, we are only now in a position to turn out carriages on a
considerable scale.

A carefully prepared book of instructions will be furnished with each carriage sold, and it is ix>ssible
for any one with some mechanical knowledge to master the handling of the MOBILE from the instructions
therein given. Unmechanical purchasers living at a distance who cannot come to the factory for instructions
are advised to secure a careful and competent engineer, a man of good judgment and likely to be thorough, who
can master the machine and then instruct the purchaser.

INSPKCTION OF VEHICI.KS.

The MOBILE carriage, "WESTCHESTER COUNTY MODEL," may be found from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m.
in front of the New York Offices of the company, Fifth Avenue and Forty-second St., and the Times Building.

THK HKADLtCSS HORSKMAN S BRIDOK AS IT WAS PORMHRLY.

Intending purchasers arc invited to visit the factory at Kingsland Point, Tarrytown-on-the- Hudson, where
instruction will be given in handling the carriage.

KINGSLAND POINT WKLL ADAPTED FOR TRYING AUTOMOBILES.

The Philipse Manor property contains many beautiful roadways, steep, level, good, and some bad, so
that the purchaser or intending purchaser will find it admirably adapted as a place to try automobiles.

Tarrytown is a little more than half an hour's run from New York by the fast trains. Of the fifty-nine
accommodation trains which stop at Tarrytown station, fourteen each day stop at Kingsland Point u|X)n applica-
tion to the conductor. Kingsland Point itself is considered to be one of the two or three most beautiful places on
the Hudson. It stands well out in the Tappan Zee with Grant's Tomb visible on a clear day to the south, and a
great stretch of water to the north off into the Highlands. The place is full of historic memories. The original
Philipse Manor and mill, more than two hundred years old, are still standing. The *' Headless Horseman's
Bridge " is near by. The mansion was the center originally of the Philipse estate, which embraced two hundred
square miles and reached from Spuyten Duyvel to Peekskill. It seems proper that here should be opened the
manufacture of automobiles, for here were beg^n more than two hundred years ago manufacturing operations
on the Hudson.

THE "MOBILE" COMPANY OF AMERICA

lOHN BRISBEN WALKER, President WILLIAM A, BELL, Vice-President

NEW YORK CITY OFFICES:

Fifth Avenue and Forty-Second Street ^ J80 Times Building

Factory: Kingsland Point, Tarrytown-on-Hudson, N. Y.

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SPECIAL OFFER ^4 7/5

^MeCLURB'S MAOAZINB tor Oif Year, and $ * • ■ ^^
THB BARLY LIPB OP LINCOLN, by Ida M. TarbalL

Foreign order* for Magazine and Book will require f i.io additional for pof tage

THB S. 8. McCLURB CO., I4i-iaa B. J0th St., N«w York.

$1.78,

f GLASS"

TAST IWCK
IfilMtMCSWlDE

RU5IL FINISH

AT All FIRST ClASS DRV GOODS STORES OR WRITE TO

U.W. GODDARD C SON-S

CSTAOllSHfD 1817 I

LITERARY FOLK. ^

We pay cash for short stoiies* poems, «^^

are looking for another ** David Harom.** Wc Ittn
beginners on the road to fame and fbrtune. j^
writers, to-day unknown, will be famous next y***^
you one ? Send self-addressed stamped enTelope»
particulars to the
SUBSCRIBERS* MONTHLY PUBUSHING COMPANY.
82 Fifth Av«iitt«. N«w York. _

Pvfslar UknuT EdlUoa M

THE LIFE OF NAPOLEON

By Mi*s Ida M. Tarbslx,
Conceded to be the most complete, accurate, and yet concise S*^'^
Mapoleoa ever published. tiftO ILLVSTRATIOHS ^^^^
of tne now famous portraits of Napoleon, and the most ntuomnta, « sw
torical pictures made prominent during his career.
Hmndsowuiy b^utul in Butkrttm, with g9id tttUrim£ mtd b*r4irt • ^

THE 8. R. HeCLURE CO., 141 East tttk Street, Kew Iw* W

A BEAUTIFir
MANTEL

\Vc offer this ETii-'ri
as iUusiratcd, tnaoe J
quarter sawed ^ J\
birch with a nice P"^
tinish, complete »'J
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tilc-facinff and b"f»
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MiM COMPLETB

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"WAlSt

It does away with the slightest hint of a ridge at
bust and shoulder blades! Every line of the figure
is rounded off so's to give the waist a trim and chic
appearance. It's a luxuriously cozy model — low-busted
and medium, and made of cool, tough French Lisle net
or batiste with dainty touches of lace and baby ribbon
at top and bottom. Every dealer has them for you.
There's a special "Shirt Waist" corset for every figure.
See that you get the style built and mtended for your
proportions. The price, li.oo.

If you can't obtain your size at home, write to us, mentioning your dealer*s
name and enclose the price of the corset an J we will forward the corset to you
prepaid the day of the receipt of your letter.

WEINOARTEN BROS., »unuf«.ur«.

Departmtmi C. 377 & ^9 Broadway, New York.

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McCLURE'5 MAGAZINE

A NNOUNCEMENT

The June and other coming numbers, besides interesting matter of vanA-
other kinds, will be especially notable in authoritative articles descriptive of the latent
new devices and enterprises that are practically

Building the World Anew

The Nicaras^ua Canal. — The Canal is now practically assured, and it wii. k
the greatest achievement in constructive engineering that the world has thus far seen
Mr. Charles M. Lincoln, of the editorial staff of the Ntiv York Hera/ii^ after makr.
a life-long study of the general subject and spending months with the enginecr^n
Nicaragua, has written an article telling through what kind of country the Canai wi
run, how the immense difficulties in its path will be surmounted, and the wonderlu.
advantages it will give to the world of comniene. In an early number, with maps,
diagrams, and pictures.

The Cape Nome Gold Fields. — These seem to be the richest gold fields ever
discovered, and thousands upon thousands of people will make the long journey k
them this summer. A fully illustrated article in the June number will tell how u-
reach them and what the traveler will find when he gets there, besides giving an
account of the almost fabulous richness that the fields have thus far disclosed.

I Railroad Development in China. — An article by Mr. W. B. Parsons, chiet-

; engineer of the American-China Development (^)., and author of the interesting article
in the April number on **The American Invasion of China," will tell just how China i>
off to-day for railroads and what immense development in that respect — to the revolu-
tion of the world's trade — is now impending. The article will be fully illustrated
1 from photographs taken by the author himself in his journeys in China.

' Engineering Feats in Bridge-Building. — In no department have the engi-

neers been more constantly beating their own best record — to the shoving of the
severed quarters of the earth into each other's arms — than in bridge-building. Their
feats in this have been marvelous and fairly heroic; and the story of them is more
interesting than any fiction. It will be told in an early article, and fully illustrated

New Experiments in Flying. — Mr. O. Chanute, who has been studying and
experimenting to solve the problem of human flight'for over forty years, will describe,
in the June number, some machines of his own that seem to prepare the way toward
the final flying-machine and his recent experiences and adventures with them.
Illustrated from photographs taken by the author, ,

SINGULAR STORIES

From tlie Secret Diplomatic History of the United 5Utes

These are strange unpublished chapters of our own history. Each will be
written by some person especially conversant with the particular matters of which
it treats. In several instances, the writers have been themselves actors in the
episode that they relate, and are perhaps the only persons living who could tell the
storv of it. I

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McCLURE'S MAGAZINE— ANNOUNCEMENT.

THE 19th AND 20th CENTURIES

As Presented at the Paris Exposition, tlie One in its Acfiievements, tlie Otiier in

Its Promises

This will be an Interpretation — not a conventional description — of the Paris
Exposition. It will be in the form of interviews and .articles, giving the impressions
of various eminent experts who will visit the Exposition to study in assemblage the
latest performance and promise in their several specialties. It will be a series of
conclusions by the highest authorities, from this greatest of exhibitions, regarding
the recent past and the near future in many departments of human knowledge and
activity.

PROFESSIONAL CRIMINALS AND THEIR LIFE

stories by Josiah Flynt Willard of tlie Men Outside the Law

Following his well-known studies of tramp life, Mr. Willard has lived a year
as one of themselves among the professional criminals of the large cities. In a series
of interesting articles, he will exhibit them as they really are, and as no writer has
ever qualified himself by actual observation and experience to portray them before.
He will describe their relations to each other and to the administrators of the law
in dread of whom all their life is passed; how they ply their several nefarious
tricks and c/'afts; and what they are as simple human beings — in their minds and
hearts, in their hopes, habits, and ^esires. Each article will be fully illustrated.

SHORT 5T0RIE5

Strong, interesting short stories, depicting usually some of the finer or stranger
phases of the life of to-day, and usually illustrated by the best artists, will be a special
feature of each number. We have good stories in hand by all the young writers who
have lately won general recognition through the medium of McClure's; and in
early numbers will also appear stories by

Bret Harte
Robert Barr
Tighe Hopkins

Sarah Orne Jewett
Hamlin Oarland
Oillett Burgess

Shan F. Bullock
W. A. Fraser
Clinton Ross

But as heretofore, fine, stirring, noble true stories, no less than fiction, will
be a constant feature ; and among such we may mention:

COLONIAL FIGHTS AND FIGHTERS

A New Series of Great Stories from History by tl|e Rev. C. T. Brady

In the June number, Mr. Brady will tell the story of Reid's great sea fight
in the ** General Armstrong" against a whole British squadron. Then he will begin
his new series, one depicting the more heroic men and achievement of the Colonial
period. These stories, while dramatically presented, will always be strictly historic;
and not only so, but in many instances Mr. Brady will be able to give new facts
drawn from unpublished material to which he has access. The stories will be fully
illustrated.

$1.00 A YEAR

10 CENTS A COPY

THE 5. 5. McCLURE CO.

141-155 East 25th Street New York City

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MeCLURSrS IIAOAZINE.

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your

There is nothing which
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It conforms to every curve,
every movement of the body. It is
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It has a score of other good points, of
iMch you can learn by writing,

FOSTER BROS. MF8. 00^

ik linCA.IiIi

BOUND VOLUME XIV

McCLURE'S MAGAZINE

November, i899=^April, 1900

NOW READY FOR DELIVERY

PRICES

(laciudiag delivery charges)

Blue Buckram Binding, with gold lettering and borders $150

Green Linen 1.25

All bound volumes are now in stock and can be supplied at the prices quoted above, with the exception of
Volume I — June to November, i8g3 — which we have reprinted, and for which an additional charge in cither
style of binding is made of $1.00 per volume.

REQARDINQ EXCHANGE

Unbound copies returned to us, without cover and advertisements having been removed, and otherwise in
good condition, with delivery charges prepaid, will be exchanged for corresponding Bound Volumes at the
following rates :

Blue Buckram, per volume ....... $1.00

Green Linen, " ....... .75

Volumes begin with the November and May issues. Remittance should be made with order.

THE S. S. McCLURE CO., 141 East 2Sth Street, New York City

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MeCLURE'8 MAGAZINE.

Ye CiT/y. -thing

XIX

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USE

DEJSJTINJE

jorye Pre/erve^Jtion. Cc Cle^K.nline/s of ^reTTeetli

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For the exclusive treatment of cancer, tumors and all other forms
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tunity to gain a knowledge of our method an<l Ussucce<.5. When writ-
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and Mate its situation. Afidrc!,v

I>r». W. K. BROWN A SON. North Ad«m«. Mm*.

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SULPHUME BATHS can be taken
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HEAD NOISES?
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his work is endorsed by leading men and women of the
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Dr Oncals Treatise on DISEASES OF THE EYE. EAR.
NOSE AND THROAT is sent free. It is fully illustrated
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DR. OREN ONEAL,

Suites A and B,
52 Dearborn Street, OflCAGa

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™ tious world. What wonder we
breakdown! AHofusovenax our-
selves at times, so that weoften need
a bracer like Pabst Malt Extract,
The "Best" Tonic. It allays ner-
vousness, brings sound sleep, and
as you sleep it feeds the nerves,
feeds them with grain strength, not
with drugs. This makes it a real
nerve tonic, a remedy that will re-
store exhausted nerves to their full
health and vigor. Taken four times
a day, once before bed-time, a bot-
tle daily, it works wonders with a
shattered nervous system. That's
what the doctors say when order-
ing it for patients.

How to Get this
Picture Free

WTHEN you buy your
™ first six bottles your
druggist will make you a
present of a lovely Allo-
type entitled, ^*Baby*s
First Adventure.** This
fine picture cannot be
bought at art stores nor
obtained by any other
method than that plainly
outlined here.

Picture

The undersigned

PprtifiofltP ■trees to five the
l^eniricate bearer of Als ccr-
tiflcite one copy, 13x17, of the
Artotype in fifteen colors, repro-
ducinE Kaulbach's fimous pic-
ure, * Baby's First Adventure"
when eich of the numhereon the
end hereof has been canceled up-
on the purchase of a bottle of
The ''Best** Tonic,
DruttisVs
Signature - -

To the Public:

Most dmnlsts
sell The ''Best"
Tonic. If yours
does not, send us
$1.50 for a half
dozen bottles and
one picture, or
$2.50 for one doz-
en bottles and two
pictures. Express
charces fully pre-

faid. Address...-
'abst Brewing Co.
Milwaukee,

Ingca
WU.

The Drujigi^t can caned
rachoRcol these Muco

by private loUbl. iilt,
or marfc. Ead siuot

frpresnrtsofKbollierf
TIir'MSriOfllCsoli

5 6

I he ttcarer of the ccr*
lififate for 25 cnrfs.

Please mention McClure** when you write to advertisers.
1 1 2m

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MeCLURE'S MAGAZINE.

Turkish Baths for 3 Cents*

The best of all bath cabinets is now
sold at makcr^s prices direct to the user.
Sold even lower than the inconvenient
affairs that are advertised for this ser-
vice* A tight, dooble-walled room, rub-
ber coated inside and outside, and fitted
with a door* Made so that merely tip-
ping folds it into a 6-inch space* Hand-
some, convenient and strong*

With this cibinet, Turkish, vapor and medicated
baths may be taken it home, exactly the same as
in Turkish Bath rooms. The cost i^ three cents
per bath. Nothins else is so effective in keeping
the blood pure, preventing sickness, stopping
colds and curing most chronic diseases. Nothing
else accomplishes perfect cleanliness, or so clears
the complexion, so quickly quiets the nervous and
rests the tired. The habit of Turkish bathing
keeps the mind and body up to the highest vigor.

*^^^

Prices from S5.00 to $12.00
Express or Freight Prepaid.

The Racine Cabinet is guaranteed to be {he best one on the market. We sell on ap*
provalf to be rettsmed at our expense if not satisfactory. Sold direct to users at from $ 5 to
$12.t express or freight prepaid ; alcohol stove* vaporizer and face steaming attachment In-
cluded* Send today for our handsome illustrated catalogue* and order from that*

RACINE BATH CABINET CO.,

Box A, RAONE, WIS.

I Hyomei Antiseptic Skin Soap

Made from the fresh p-ccn leaves
J o( the 'I'a.smanian liiue (iuni '1 ree.

**A bath with Hyond Soap Is m rare luxury.**
Sold by drugK>sU everywhere or sent by mail. Price, 25c.
' THB R. T. BOOTH CO.. 35 Ave. B, Ithaca, N. Y.

Send 5 CIS. for sample cal<e of Ilvitmei Soap.

Please mention McClure's wheo yoa write to advertisers.

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MeCLXmE'S KAOAZmK.

S^^^S^

*> si

w^mm

Hat Like Others* Better Than Others,

It is a scientific medicinal preparation (not simply a dusting
powder), indispensable for the nursery, toilet, and sick room.
A Medicated Powder for infants, children, and adults.

Unequaled in the field of medicine for controlling and healing
all inflammation and aflections of the skin. At Druggists, a^candsa

{)0ZCC4

Perfumes are

50 like the

flowers that

one never tires

of them.

"Swiss Hose"

is lasting, j
withal delicate I

and wott'

drousfy true ;
_ to nature. I

Bold by all dealPM, or will be T,api> A* CoFris\ t

heai^ prcjKilrt, on receipt of $1.00. £1 Burtliiy St.. Sew \ ork. T
^ . «»■».»■». ♦•i».i». ^^ ♦ » ■♦■ * -^ *-♦" ♦ ■ ^

Please mention McClure's when
II20

rdeir

SPECIAL OFFER.

To introduce Comfort Powder into families
where it is not now used, we will send a box on
receipt of no cents, and also a year's subscription
freetoTRAINKD MOTHER HOOD, a monthly
magazine that every mother needs.

1 his bnyht magazine contains helpful and in-
teresting advice pertaining to the baby's hcilth,
comfort, clo'hinK, education, and so forth, from
the world's best authorities.

The subscription price alone is one dollar; ynu
therefore get the best medicinal powder and the
best mother's magazine m the world for 50 cetits.

THE COMFORT POWOEB CO., HARTFORD, CONN.

you wnte to adveitiBerSi

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McCLURE'S MAGAZINE,

f cf Uii»fmtions

LEA & PERRINS''

''^ ^ng/nai & Genuine worcesters^^'^*-

Makes all Chafing-dish cookery palalable
and dii^estible - Gives a delicate flavor to
Welsh rarebits, Lohster-NewlMjrgh,Oysters,elL

SlONATUR£

on every boitie.

cd^^t

DELICIOUS DESSERTS

Easy miul quick to make, follow a few
minute*' work with a

TrIPLC WOTrON

White Mountain fREEZCR.

Lacking nothing a freeier ncetlB, it haj
(rr>od points no other fy*eKer potacases.
More than ha^f of all the freexera in uae
are

White Mountala Freezers,
FroivD DalatiM 8«Mt Pre«.
A book of nractical receipt! compiled by
Mrs Lincoln of cook book fame.

Address,

The White MounUin Freezer Co.,

OCPARTMENT D, NASHUA, N.H,

43>^-@^

ARE YOU QOINQ lu ^, ^.

How to Flan and
HowtoBnildthem.

Gives instructions on the
beat methods of BalUlll
a Hmm. Bcsutifully
illustrated. Sent Iwtb
cents, if you meotioo
price house wanted.

Motel DwvUlllgl— Book of Sundard Designs and Plans—

All styles, ail prices. Superb edition* $1.00 i

BeiMi aa4 Bana, [low cost houses] JO ,

We execute HIgh-ctaaa apMlal work In all i

Modem and Claaaic '^'y —

GEO. P. BARBER ft CO^ ArcUtecto, KaoxrUle, Ten. |

SffmOO and UP
RoU TotB DESK,

20^000 must be sold.
OreatestoatpntinU s. \\V
stylea and alses Ouality
euro to please. l^nccH mo,
low si^enta can sell at
ffood profit.

Honae Famltnre,

Bef rirem ton ,

Bnb/ Cnrrlag^cs, etc.
aU at tmotO^y prFcmm

€aUl«f X*. M, OflM l-umllure.
CstalOf X«* TO, Bo«M t urnllurT.

E. B. STAFFORD* BROS.. Steinway nafl. CRICAGO

EUROPEAN TOURS

J 9th Year* Select parties. Terms reasonable
ucted by Da. & Mas. H.

Con-
S. PAINE, Glens Falls, N. Y

THC HCMCT LANDS ARC LOCATED IN

SoBtliorn Galifornia

Soil and climate suitable to the culture of the Oranre, Lemon
and Olive. All other products successfully grown. Abundance
of water. Good market. Educational and religious advan-
tages. FREE, large illustrated pamphlet giving reliable facts
and figures about good California irrigable lands in tracts to
suit, on easy payments. Title perfect. Address

HEMET LAND COMPANY

DCFT. D. HCMCT. RIVCRSIDC COUNTY, CAL.

IINUTIJRE PHOTOS __,

make and send to yon u beaotifnl miniature Photos.

Address F, M. 8NYOEIC, Oxfbff^ OM«

Send any Photo and sjc ta
silver and ac stamp to psT

1^.

mWHAT DISTRESS
WC NOTE THIS LASS

DISFIGURED WITH
HER HIDEOUS GLASS1

v^0^

SEE HOW THC FACE

BRIGHT AS AURORA
DUE TO USE OF THE
2^ SIGHT RESTORER,

II2p

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McCLURE'S MAGAZINE.

The mental annoyance in after years
when dandruff ends in baldness is far
greater than mere pain of the flesh.

GokeDandruncure

is the preventative for baldness. It re-
moves the cause of baldness — dandruff.
If it doesn't, here's your money back.

Tho only hair (.reparation adinittod to the P&rli Expoaltion.

Phyilriana not only pr*«ribo It but u»« U themselvM.

Druggiit* sell U. Barben use tt. If youn does not, »cn<l

one dollar and hUnauio lor a bottle, i)rcpaid, byexpr«ii.

M&ny«oH:allc<l "Hair Resiorativct" contain poison

ouB minerals that cauw jjaralysls. Avoid them,

A. R. Bnmer Co., 33 La Sallo Street, Chicago.

CjknAi>ii.n DwoT^Lyman Broi. A Co , Ltd.. Toronto.

THE TIME TO BEGIN

Is when the teeth flrst come. The delicious
fragrance and soothing qualities of Rubifoam
please the children.

PopuUr price 25 cts* AH Druggists*
Sample Vud for a 2<t* stamp.

E. W. HOYT A CO LOWELL. MASS.

Please meDtion McClure's when you write to advertisers.
"3

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McCLUBE'S MAOAZINS,

- Ml

BABIES

A Book on Infant Feeding;

to Mothers.^^

A POSTAL

PlCMc mcniion McClure** when you wriu to J
12^

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